Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (7 page)

“Why
not?” asked suit boy.

“It was
too damn creepy,” said Briana, “felt all wrong.”

She was
right. There was something about it, beyond the obvious, that was bugging me. I
didn’t want to go back.

The
sisters began to whisper to one another, and the guy in his stylish wool suit
quickly joined in. He was already perspiring heavily.

“We
think we’ll try there, just to see,” said the woman.

“Good
luck with that,” I offered, politely.

Briana
rolled her eyes and got into the Jeep.

“Anything
I should know about the road ahead?” I asked, pulling my own door open.

“It was
clear for us,” she said, “other than wrecks and those things walking about.”

That was
the first conversation I’d had with anyone other than Briana since this all
began. Looking back on it, it had not been a meaningful exchange. None of us
provided the others with worthwhile information. No one had any great
revelations to share. Still, they didn’t shoot at us, and they didn’t threaten
us, nor did they try begging or stealing. Overall, it went as well as one could
reasonably expect.

*
* *

“Still
think they’re going to be eaten?” I asked, hours later.

We were
parked in a field outside of Verden. I was setting up the laptop so we could
watch a movie before attempting to sleep.

“The
idiot in the suit is going to be eaten,” stated Briana, firmly. “No doubt about
that one. The way he kept fiddling with his Rolex, he was all flash.”

I hadn’t
realized it was a Rolex and wouldn’t have been able to tell unless I was close
enough to see the logo, but I took her word for it.

“The
ladies seemed competent.”

“The one
who talked to you. Her sister, Janet…”

“It was
Janice.”

“Janice
then.” Briana did not like being corrected. She’d get over that with me around,
or possibly murder me in my sleep. “She was a basket case.”

“You
weren’t doing all that well when you showed up on my front door,” I pointed
out.

“That is
completely different. I’d been… It was bad that first morning when it happened,
and I barely got away. I was tired and hurting and upset. Now, a few days
later, I’m doing perfectly well.” She clearly thought about what she was saying
and dropped her head.

“Everyone’s
circumstances are going to be different. I lucked out with an easy start,” I
began, picking my words carefully. “Others were not so fortunate. Who knows
what happened to Janice. She was functional though. That’s a good sign,
probably.”

“Well,
yeah,” agreed Briana, “but hooking up with that poser.”

It’d
been a while since I’d heard the term, and I wondered if it was still regularly
used, along with how far removed from popular culture I might be.

“I
didn’t like him all that much either.” I ran the cursor down the list of movies
on my computer while Briana leaned over to see what I had. “They should have
met someone much better, like me. At least I drive a practical car. A Lexus is
not the best choice.”

“Far
from it,” she laughed. “Meeting you was good luck on my part, more on yours
since I’m fun to be around.”

I
couldn’t argue with that. Briana was rapidly opening up, faster than I’d
expected, and her company was pleasant.

*
* *

The next
morning, day six of the zombie apocalypse, was dreary and overcast. It was
still hot of course, no way around that, but at least the sun wasn’t in our
eyes. As usual, we slowed when approaching any towns, keeping an eye out for
anything important, and, finally, we found something. A dozen people, mostly
children, were perched atop a UPS truck surrounded by zombies. The monsters
were pressed up close, reaching and straining with their arms and not coming
anywhere close to being able to grab the huddled, cowering group. It would have
been humorous if not for the fact the children were clinging to one another in
stark terror.

“We have
to help them Jacob,” announced Briana, as soon as she took in the sight.

I rolled
my window down and drove closer. Some of the zombies turned toward us.

“I think
we can do that.” We had to do, try something. “You’ll want to cover your ears.”

It’s
awkward shooting right handed while sitting on the left side of a Jeep, but I
managed to twist enough to get my arm mostly out the window. Then I began
pulling the trigger of my .40 caliber Beretta automatic. I had two clips, each
holding ten rounds. When the first was empty I handed it to Briana who began to
refill it from a box in the ammo bag we kept handy.

My
position was uncomfortable, and the blast of the gun was very loud, seemingly
amplified inside the Jeep. I immediately decided that next time I would get out
of the vehicle to fight. I should have done that to begin with – it would have
prevented the ringing in my ears – but I hadn’t been prepared to take such a
chance, yet. It seemed better to remain where I could simply press down on the
pedal and drive away if need be.

At least
the zombies were slow and predicable. They came right for me, and they were
easy to hit. Even so, not every head shot did the job. Some of the things took
two, the first either skipping along the skull or not striking the important
part of the brain, whatever that was. And I quickly received assistance. Some
men came running up and added to my fire. I was a bit startled at how
recklessly they wasted their ammunition, often riddling the bodies with
bullets, but at least they were careful with their aim. Nothing came near me or
the people atop the truck. There was never a risk of anyone getting caught in a
crossfire.

*
* *

“Thanks
for helping out,” said an elderly man. He slung his rifle across a narrow
shoulder.

I cut
the engine, rolled up the window, and got out. “My pleasure.”

Despite
my words, I was feeling ill. This was the first time I put a zombie down. As a
general rule, I don’t kill living things, aside from bugs – I fervently believe
fire ants are demonic creatures that should be made extinct – and never hunt or
fish. I do love eating the things, but given the choice I rather get my animals
already dead, cleaned, and prepared from a grocery store. My shooting was
always at the range, targeting pieces of paper. Damn zombies look too much like
real people.

“I’m
Edwin McAllister.”

“Jacob
Thornton and Briana Mills,” I replied.

“Hello,”
said Briana. She came around the Jeep and offered her hand, which the man shook
warmly.

To the
side, people were climbing down off the truck. It appeared they used a ladder
to get up in the first place and then kicked it over, a good idea that was to
be repeated in the future. That same folding ladder was now being used for
their descent.

“How
they get trapped?” I looked about. There were a lot of men present, all of them
armed.

Edwin shook
his head. “No idea. They were supposed to be out of harm’s way in the open here
while we cleared out some houses. Thought the whole town was about free of the
vermin.”

“They
walk about, down the roads,” said Briana. “We passed plenty on our way here, some
of them miles from anywhere.”

He
groaned. “Blasted… Figures. Didn’t recognize any.”

I
really, really did not like the idea of shooting zombies I knew in life.
Fortunately, that shouldn’t be an issue. We were already far from home.

“So
you’re going to stay here? Since you’ve been clearing out houses and the town I
mean.”

Edwin
looked me over carefully. “It’s our home, isn’t it then. We aren’t going
anywhere. You’re welcome to stay the night or forever if you want. I don’t
think anyone will mind, not after you helped us out, and we can always use good
people.”

The old
man was clearly more attached to the concept of home than either of us, but
then I’d moved about a lot as a child, never developing a desire to stay in one
place.

“Let’s
stop here Jacob,” suggested Briana, “for a while.”

“For the
day,” I clarified, “maybe several. We’re concerned about lasting long term you
see and don’t want to rush into anything we might regret later.”

“Planning
ahead. Good for that,” said Edwin, with an approving nod.

*
* *

Briana
and I were given a tiny one bedroom house to spend the night in and use as we
saw fit. There was an attached garage, which was quite nice since it gave us a
safe place to sort our supplies and rearrange things so they’d be easier to get
to. We were informed the prior owner died of a heart attack during the zombie
uprising and was buried later that day in the town cemetery. Edwin also
confirmed that those who perished of natural causes did not reanimate. Only the
infected became zombies.

Most of
the first day was spent speaking with Edwin. Unlike the neighboring towns,
Anadarko managed to survive the opening days of the zombie apocalypse. Through
the actions of some quick thinking residents they’d established ad hoc safe
zones, saving numerous lives, before proceeding to systematically kill the
shamblers. Edwin, a former mayor and lifelong resident, had taken charge to the
near universal agreement of his fellows. Using a small neighborhood for
housing, they were keeping everyone safe and somewhat comfortable at night.
During the day they had been leaving the children by the UPS truck so they
could drive off if need be. That plan proving flawed, they decided to instead
stick them on a roof, out of reach from the start.

The
town’s small grocery store was fortified and secured, serving as their primary
supply house. More food was moved to the town hall and a few of the houses they
were using. Edwin explained that he was worried about a possible fire or other
disaster and didn’t want all his eggs in a single basket. It made sense. There
were also some old wells in and around the town, so they had groundwater to
drink. It was probably safe, but they’d been boiling it just in case. Overall,
my initial thoughts were favorable toward these people’s efforts.

“This,”
began Briana, “is even hotter than your house.”

“I’m
going to go out on a limb and say you’re likely right on that count.”

We were
lying atop the double bed in the single bedroom of our allocated home. It was
pitch black, although we each had a flashlight handy in case it was needed
along with our guns. Still, there wasn’t much concern. The place seemed sturdy.
The windows were partially boarded over, and both doors had been barricaded
from the inside. The garage door was likewise locked down. If anyone sought to
enter and do us harm, they would have difficulty making the attempt, but
neither of us felt threatened.

“I don’t
know if lying next to you in a sticky tank top, which is so sweaty I might as
well be in a wet T-shirt contest, and teeny tiny shorts is a good idea,” she
teased. “You might try something the minute I close my eyes.”

“It is
too hot to touch another human being Briana.”

Beautiful
or not, the weather was about as contrary to romance as one could get. Besides,
I was fairly certain she was kidding.

“Yeah,
but I can’t sleep like this.”

“It’ll
cool off. Sun just went down, and it gets colder at night here than back in
Denton, I think.”

“So not
fair.”

I hated
the temperature every bit as much as she, but I didn’t think fairness was a
relevant factor. If it didn’t cool off quick however, we might sleep in the
Jeep instead. At least it had air conditioning.

“What do
you think about this place?” I asked.

Briana
was quiet for a moment as she thought it over. “The people are nice enough.
Edwin has a pretty good grasp on things. I like his daughter Stephanie as
well.”

Stephanie
was in charge of the children while their parents, or new guardians in too many
cases, were working. She’d been quite grateful at having us help save them and
even went so far as to make sure we had our own cherry pie, fresh baked,
waiting for us in the house when we turned in for the night. We’d polished it
off, even after having a rather large dinner. Who knew when we’d get another.

“They
are good people,” I agreed, “but I’m not certain about their long term
sustainability. I need to think about it some more. Let me know if you see
anything interesting, get any ideas or insights.”

“Sure
thing,” she promised.

*
* *

The next
two days were much like the first. We helped the survivors any way we could and
spoke with as many of them as possible. A great deal of time was also spent
with Edwin. Lacking the strength of youth, or even that of a middle aged man,
and being in questionable health to begin with, the majority of his efforts
were directed at organization and planning. A part of this was to pick our
brains for all the information we had concerning the area to the south.