Zombie Rules (37 page)

             
“However, I agree with you two. If she had been left out there on her own, her chances of survival would have been very slim. She’s incapable of taking care of herself in her present condition.” Julie reached under the table and squeezed my leg.

             
“Alright Macie, you can stay with us. After your child is born, we’ll see how it goes. Maybe,” I had put my hand on the table and found myself drumming my fingers. I was having a difficult time thinking logically. “Maybe by the time you’ve given birth, we will have met other people. Maybe we’ll find a group you can live with.”

             
“Thank you.” She replied, almost in a whisper. I looked at the three of them. Fred nodded and gave me a wink. Julie smiled. Macie wiped away some more tears. I was tired. I was having a hard time being pleased with any of our successes without reminding myself of all of our setbacks.

             
I nodded quietly. The rest of the conversation was short and quiet. Macie had very little to say.

             
“I found some decaf coffee hidden behind some cans in the cabinet, would anyone like some?” Julie asked. We nodded. Julie picked up the plates and put the teakettle on. A short time later we were enjoying a steaming mug of stale coffee.

             
“I have a suggestion.” Julie said. “Macie needs to stay close to the house and she can’t be doing any heavy lifting. She could earn her keep by doing light housework and monitoring the radio.”

             
Julie was smiling hopefully. I shrugged. “It sounds agreeable enough. Macie?” She readily agreed and there was no more commentary. I finished my coffee, excused myself, and went back to bed. The tense dinner conversation must have worn me down. I never felt Julie crawl in beside me. Or Curly.

              I awakened at maybe three in the morning. Early, even for me. Armed with flashlight and gun, I ventured outside on a moonless night and searched the farm for Moe. If he were alive, he would have come home by now. I was looking for his carcass, or perhaps he had become infected somehow. If I found him, I was going to bury him next to Rick. Rick would have enjoyed the company. After the sun came up, Fred rode up on Prancer and walked with me in silence. Julie must have called him on the radio. I knew Fred had already made a painstaking search, but I had to be sure. After a while, I gave up and accepted Fred’s offer to ride back to the house on Prancer in silence.

             
“You know, I’ve been thinking. We need to acquire some live traps. Or we make our own. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

             
“Sure.” Fred sure could get a conversation going. We were sitting at the kitchen table. I had more soup for breakfast and Julie had changed my bandages. It was the first time I had gotten a good look at my wound. It was going to be an ugly scar, but I was alive. It was more than Leon could say. Or Jason. Or Darius, Tay and Jasper. Damn, I did not realize until now how many people I had killed. It did not make me feel good.

             
I lightly rubbed my fresh bandaging. I no longer had the mummy turban, now only a patch on the side of the head. It required shaving off the hair on the injured side, which looked stupid, so I had Julie shave my entire head. It felt funny and looked funny. Julie said I looked handsome, all the while trying hard not to laugh. Even Macie was hiding a smile. Fred declined Julie’s offer of a haircut, preferring to stick with cutting his own hair.

             
“We need to capture some rabbits and chickens, live ones. We can breed them for food and trade.” I finished up my bland soup and vowed to grow some spices in our newly built greenhouse. “I should have thought about it sooner, but we had plenty of chickens not too long ago.”

             
Fred grinned, sort of. It consisted of a slight upturn of the corner of his upper lip. Hell, it might have been a symptom of gas for all I know. “I believe for the first time I am one up on you. I’ve already set up six traps. If you feel up to it, we’ll go check on them.”

             
I readily agreed. Our high hopes were quickly dashed at our findings. We had netted precisely one rabbit and one skunk. Fred managed to get the skunk released without being sprayed. “I’ve already got a rabbit pen built. We’ll put this little girl in there and maybe find her a boyfriend soon. We should build at least a dozen more traps though.” I nodded absent-mindedly. Fred saw it. “What’s wrong Hoss?”

             
I shook my head and sighed. I’ve been doing a lot of sighing since Macie moved in. Or maybe getting shot caused some sort of brain damage. “I’m in no hurry to get back to the house. You want to get out for a while? Ride around?”

             
Now Fred actually chuckled. “I think I understand. I loved my wife, daughter, and mother-in-law, but I have to admit, I spent a lot of time in the barn. Get Julie on the radio and tell her what we’re doing so she won’t get worried. Let’s get a few jars of those stewed tomatoes and go see Bernie. You’ll get a kick out of the old coot.” I readily agreed.

             
“Zachariah Gunderson, Zombie killer.” Bernie the Beekeeper was inspecting me closely. His glasses reminded me of Snotgrass and her dirty bifocals. He lived in an old house deep in a wooded hollow surrounded by dilapidated sheds full of junk. His house was also overflowing with various types of junk that appeared to have been accumulated over several years. A true hoarder.

             
“I have perused your rules with great fascination. Great fascination. Tell me young Mr. Gunderson, how many rules are there? During my travels I have counted six.”

             
“There are currently ten.” Bernie gasped. I enumerated each of them. Bernie had me repeat them, twice. I finally tore a sheet of paper out of my notebook and wrote them down for him. I used large, block script for his convenience.

             
When I was finished, Bernie looked over at Fred. “Deep conjuration, these rules are of deep conjuration to me.” He refocused his attention to me. “Tell me Zach, are there more rules forthcoming?”

             
“Yes, absolutely.” I said. Bernie nodded in grateful admiration. He then turned his attention to the jars of tomatoes. He inspected them closely through his dirty glasses and clucked his tongue. Maybe it was my recent brain injury which caused a limited amount of patience, but I could not stand it any longer. “Uh, Bernie, may I see your glasses?” He looked at me questioningly, but acquiesced. I used some water out of my canteen and spent a good two minutes rubbing the grime off with the tail of my shirt. Bernie watched in silence and carefully put them back on, as if I might have applied poison to them. Then he gave me a big smile with his bright white dentures.

             
“Why Mr. Gunderson, you have helped me significantly already. I had no idea that my specs were so dirty.”

             
I shrugged. “Some things you get used to and not even realize it.”

             
“Deep words sir. Deep words.” Fred was behind Bernie and was giving me a half-cocked grin.

             
“Bernie, I was wondering.” Bernie looked up at me expectantly. His now clean glasses magnified his eyes, making him look like an old version of Felix. “We have started sowing crops, corn and wheat mostly, and we have some spices and such planted in our greenhouses. Fred and I were wondering, what would your thoughts be about putting some beehives in our fields?”

             
Bernie clapped with glee. “An excellent idea gentlemen! Excellent idea! Bees are magical you know. They’ll pollinate your crops and make them grow splendidly.” He clapped again and smiled with his bright white dentures.

             
“Of course,” Fred added, “The vestibule of trade will be wide open for this endeavor. Wide open.” I looked at Fred. He kind of shrugged, which I interpreted as meaning he would fill me in later.

             
Our conversation was interrupted by a Hummer coming up Bernie’s gravel drive. I instinctively reached for my Glock, but Bernie put his hand on my shoulder. “No need for that Mr. Gunderson. Those are friends.” We were soon introduced to Howard Allen, his wife LaShonda, and their two preteen kids. We made a round of shaking hands.

             
“I’m a mechanic. Any work you men need on your vehicles, just come on down to the old Goodyear store on Nolensville Pike. If it has an engine, I can fix it.” His wife added an Amen for emphasis. He looked over our truck. “That’s some pretty fancy window dressing you have there. How effective is it?”

             
“It’s great for keeping zombies out, but you have to unscrew the frame work to clean the windows. When I have the chance, I’ve thought about modifying it with removable mounts or maybe hinges. It’s on the list of things to do.” He nodded his head in understanding. “I’ve got a truck that was shot up pretty badly. I’m not sure it can be fixed. Would you be willing to look it over? We’ve got cattle. I can butcher up meat we can trade, and we should have some good crops in a few months, would that be suitable barter material?”

             
“Absolutely honey.” LaShonda replied before Howard could speak. She was a tall woman, about five-ten, with very wide hips. “These kids are always hungry.” Howard nodded and absently rubbed his belly at the thought of a juicy steak.

             
We talked a while. Howard was in his mid-forties. He was probably fat before the shit hit the fan. He was much thinner now, but he still had the torso of a wine barrel. “We had plenty of food at the bakery and the stoves ran on natural gas.” He said. He told us he was a mechanic at the Goodyear Store, and LaShonda owned a food catering business. “You see, it was located in a basement. When LaShonda would start cooking, the food aromas seemed to come out from up top of the building, so anybody who happened to be sniffing around couldn’t locate us. It worked, for a while. Then one day there was a grease fire and we couldn’t get it out. The whole building went down.”

             
“What happened to your home?” I asked. LaShonda made a sorrowful sigh.

             
Howard shook his head. “Them zombie things were all over the place. We couldn’t make it back to our house. We barely got out with our lives.” He grimaced and shook his head again. “Anyway, we had some supplies and ended up at the Goodyear store where I worked. I found a construction site nearby. It was going to be fancy condominiums. I found a lot of stuff, including a couple of generators. We’ve remodeled the store into a home. I also found a whole bunch of rebar. I’m a pretty good welder, so I fortified the whole place with the stuff. Now we scavenge for food and make do. By the way, I can rig you up a frame on the front of your truck that’ll push them zombies out of the way. Kind of like a cattle catcher on old trains.” He said.

             
He was quiet for a minute and looked at his wife. She nodded. They had been together long enough to know what the other one was thinking. “Let me ask you three a question, have any of you seen any other African-Americans? You know, black folks? We’ve not seen any. We were wondering if there were any left alive, or if the disease targeted minorities.”

             
“You see, we’re worried about exposing our kids to anyone if they’re more susceptible to being infected.” LaShonda added.

             
I cleared my throat. “We have. We met some soldiers with the National Guard unit, and then there were some others I came into contact with. I don’t believe any of them were infected. The soldiers seemed to be good guys, but we’ve not seen them lately. Unfortunately the other ones I encountered meant to kill me and I was forced to defend myself.” I briefly explained the circumstances and the untimely demise of Jason, Darius, and Tay. I left a lot of information out, to which Fred gave me a brief nod in agreement.

             
I saw Howard looking at LaShonda again. She nodded somberly. He frowned a moment before speaking. “Yeah, there are some people out there who are downright mean. We need to warn you about a few we’ve met. We encountered a group of people just a few days ago. They were in a school bus.” I sat up straighter. It had to be the group Macie had seen. I kept quiet and listened. “Man, you should see this thing. They cut holes in the top and got some M60 machine guns mounted. There were ten of them in that bus. They were all armed and rough looking.”

             
“Were they military people?” Fred asked.

             
Howard shook his head quickly and then seemed to have changed his mind. “Well, I say they wasn’t military. They didn’t have no military uniforms on or nothing like that.” Howard paused and wagged a finger. “Except for one of them. He’s a big man, full of muscle. Now he’s ex-military, at least that’s what he claims. He said he’s Special Forces. He wears a camouflage uniform and a green beret.” I had pulled my little notepad out of my shirt pocket and began taking notes. Howard saw this and provided more detail. “He’s around forty or so, shaved head, Wears one them moustaches that make you look like a walrus. He’s got lots of tattoos, and a big thick neck. Hell, he’s all muscle, looks like one of them pro wrestlers. You’ll know exactly who he is if you ever run into him.”