Aliens Versus Zombies (28 page)

One of the others sitting around the table asked, “What about the aliens? Mightn’t we attract their attention if we start rebuilding a town? What if they swoop in and slaughter us?”

Daniels shrugged again. “We don’t know their intentions toward us. Maybe now that they own the planet they’ll be content to leave us alone. On the other hand, say they plan to wipe us all out. They could do that just as easily if we stay here. The smoke from this fireplace is visible for miles. In town, we can use electric heating—no smoke. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not try to survive a winter in this house without heat. If they’re going to come for us either way, I’d rather be living comfortably in a warm house than cowering in a freezing one.”

The council decided to go on a fact-finding trip into town to see for themselves what life like there would be like. A couple of the members were in the middle of some building projects. Because of that, it was two days before the six of them left. As before, Daniels rode Buck, but now towing Geoff and three others who rode in the cart behind.

After one of the cart’s wheels hit a particularly large pothole, Daniels asked, “You folks okay back there?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Geoff replied. “But next time remind me to bring a pillow to sit on.” He repositioned his backside and held onto his rifle all the more securely.

When they reached town, it was immediately apparent that things had changed in just the past two days. There were no Zoms lying on the ground. The industrious ones had apparently collected the remains and carted them off somewhere.

Now the town merely looked abandoned, littered with wrecked vehicles and debris rather than bodies. The farther into town the group traveled, the less pessimistic the expressions of the council members became.

“Show us this neighborhood you found,” Geoff said.

* * * *

Oak Street held eleven homes, five on one side of the street and six on the other, ending in a T intersection. The house on one corner of the T was an immense antebellum mansion with impressive two-story-tall white columns framing an arched entrance. A large wrap-around porch looked big enough to accommodate a dozen people on rocking chairs. On either side of the front lawn stood a massive oak tree, casting cooling shade over the porch and most of the lawn.

The three-story structure appeared well maintained, with eight bedrooms and six bathrooms, power and running water, and a huge kitchen. It would make a great headquarters for the new community. The other homes on the street were smaller, but equally nice. A couple needed to be aired out to make them livable. Overall, the effort required to move in would be minor.

By a unanimous vote, the members of the council approved the suggestion to move to town.

* * * *

Other members of Casa Paradiso, as expected, objected to moving.

“Why can’t we stay here, where it’s safe?” one asked.

“What about all the work we put into fixing it up? It’ll have been a waste of effort if we move,” said another.

Yet another raised the issue of being noticed by the aliens. Other questions and objections followed. Geoff and the others answered them, one by one. Some still held doubts, but eventually nearly all agreed that moving made the most sense.

The council decided that due to the number of people involved, and the amount of food and other supplies that needed to be moved, it was worth the risk to use the SUVs. It would have taken forever to cart everything using their one small wagon and horses.

The next few days were extremely busy ones, between fixing up their new homes, gathering and preparing food for everyone, and moving their belongings from the old homestead to the new ones.

Chrissy and Daniels moved into one bedroom of the mansion, and Geoff another. Moose and Jesse decided to share a third for now, all on the second floor. It meant a shorter climb from downstairs,. Besides, the third was mostly cluttered with spare furniture, anyway. Amanda and the Zoms refused to be separated. They took the fourth bedroom on that floor. The others spread out into several other homes.

Chrissy established a sort of classroom in what had been the parlor for the education of Jay, Suzi, and Joanie. Thus was born Chrissy’s School for Wayward Zombies.

Amanda had demonstrated earlier with Jay and the others that she was an excellent teacher of Zoms. However, she needed schooling herself. She was added to the roster of students in Chrissy’s school. Because Amanda was so good with the Zoms, she also served as teacher’s assistant for their education.

* * * *

Over the next weeks, the community settled into their new homes. After being cooped up together for so long, it was wonderful to be able to spread out. Oddly, after a while most started to group together again. For those without their own families, it just didn’t feel right living alone. Most homes ended up with four to six people living in them.

Under Amanda’s tutelage, the Zoms learned fast, not only words that they would need to better communicate with the others, but also basic concepts, like inside versus outside, hot versus cold, etc. All along the way, Amanda kept them singing and dancing.

As Chrissy told Daniels, “That girl is a natural born teacher. I wish we’d had teachers like her when I was in school, teachers that made learning fun. And she’s what? Five, six? Amazing.”

“I think they relate to her
because
she’s so young,” he replied, “Right now, they’re like little children themselves and they respond to the kind of education that Amanda learned when she was in pre-school.”

“Sure, but it’s more than that. She seems to know exactly how to reach them. Maybe it’s from the months living with them. She figured out how to reach them when they couldn’t communicate yet. That’s one smart little girl.”

Late summer turned into fall, and with it came the first chilly nights. The community hastened to make preparations for the coming winter.

Then the outsiders came.

* * * *

The pickup truck tore through the center of town. Gunshots rang out as the two in the back and the one in the passenger seat fired in the air, whooping and hollering. One of them tossed an empty whiskey bottle out the window to smash on the curb. A second pickup followed, with four more gun-happy drunks shooting up the sky.

At first, the residents of the town didn’t know where the shots were coming from. The sounds grew nearer. The residents ran inside, locked the doors, and slammed shut the interior reinforced shutters installed for this reason. Then they watched through the gun slits as the trucks barreled down Oak Street.

For a minute it looked like the outsiders would fly by and be gone in seconds. Then the trucks slowed and pulled up in front of one of the houses. The eight men got out and slammed the doors. They looked up at the top of the house, and one of them pointed.

“Damn,” Geoff said to the two others in the room with him. He’d been helping to repair a balky hot water heater across the street from the other house. “They spotted the smoke from the chimney. I
told
them to use the furnace, not the fireplace.”

The men, armed with rifles, walked up to the house. Two stood in front of the door. The other six spread out, across the front and around the side of the house. The driver of the first truck pounded on the door. “Hey! Anyone in there? We’re just lookin’ for some food. Do you have any to spare?”

A male voice called out from behind the door, “No. I’m sorry, we don’t. But there’s a grocery store four blocks over. There’s still plenty of canned goods there.”

“Thanks,” the driver said, “but we was hopin’ for some fresh food. You got any? Fresh veggies, some meat, maybe?”

“No. Sorry. Just canned stuff. That’s all we have. Help yourself to what’s in the grocery store. It’s the same stuff we have.”

“Well, now, that’s not very friendly, like. Why don’t you invite us in and we can have a nice, friendly meal together?”

“I’d rather not. Sorry. Why don’t you get your food from the store and move along. We don’t want any trouble.”

“We don’t want no trouble neither. We just want to sit a spell and get to know you, have supper together, that sorta thing. Ya got any women in there?”

“I’m not gonna ask you again. Move along. I’m armed and not afraid to use it.”

“Hey, that’s just plain unfriendly. We asked politely. Maybe we shouldn’t be so polite. Whaddaya say, boys? Should we stop being polite?”

“That does it.” The sound of a pump-action shotgun being primed was audible to Geoff, even across the street. “I’m giving you until the count of five to turn and leave my property. One…two…”

“Oh? You like it rough? So do we, and there’s eight of us. How many guns
you
got?”

Geoff threw open the front door and stepped out, aiming his gun at the back of the leader’s head from across the street. “More than y’all do.”

Two others stepped out onto the porch beside Geoff, rifles and shotguns leveled at the intruders; ten others did the same from four houses on both sides of the street.

The four men turned toward the voice coming from behind them. “Whoa! Now hold on there. There’s no cause to go gettin’ huffy. We was jus’ leavin’. Boys?” He gestured and the group walked back toward the trucks.

He appeared to whisper something to the others, but when they reached the street, they got into their trucks and drove off with a squeal of tires, but without the exuberant gunfire of before.

Each of the occupied houses on the street had a walkie-talkie so they could talk to one another. When the trucks were first heard heading their way, Geoff had alerted everyone else. Now he gave the all-clear signal.

“Stand down,” he said. “It looks like they’re leavin’. But don’t drop your guards, in case they come back.”

* * * *

The two trucks rolled to a stop in front of the big house on the corner. The men got out with nary a sound and tiptoed up to the side window. Although the night was moonless, a candle burned within. A window was open slightly. The first man handed his rifle to the one behind him, and slid the window up slowly, hoping to prevent a squeak from alerting anyone within. The window opened and he climbed in. The second man gave him his gun back and handed over his own. He then climbed through, and retrieved his gun. The next two repeated the process, and so on until all eight stood in the living room.

The leader whispered. “Split up into pairs. Look for anything usable. If anyone gets in your way, kill them.”

“But, John,” another whispered back, “I don’ wanna kill anyone. Let’s jus’ get the stuff and leave.”

“You’ll do what I tell ya! These pissants ain’t gonna wave guns in our faces and get away with it. Ya gotta be strong!”

They shut their eyes in pain from the blinding light.

“If you ladies are done gossiping, I suggest you drop your guns and put your hands up.” Chick Daniels flipped on the overhead lights and the three others with high-powered flashlights turned them off. “You have to be a special kind of stupid to invade the home of people you know have weapons.”

When the intruders opened their eyes, it was to see eight guns pointed at their heads, both front and back. They froze.

“Now wait a minute—” the leader began.

“I said, drop your guns. You have until the count of three, and then we drop
you
. One…”

“Let’s talk about this.”

“Two.”

The leader simultaneously dropped to one knee and raised his rifle. Instantly, four shots peppered his chest, spraying blood all over the paisley wallpaper and hardwood floor. The other seven froze in the act of either raising or lowering their weapons.

“Stupid, but predictable. Three.”

The rest of the intruders dropped their rifles like they were white hot and raised their hands.

“It was his idea, honest! We didn’t wanna do it, but he said we had to.”

“Really.” Geoff was one of those pointing a gun at them. “The way I see it, you seven have two choices. One, you can join us and become productive members of our community, pullin’ your own weight and helpin’ us build somethin’ here instead of destroyin’ what’s left of the world. Or, two, y’all can die where you stand. Yore choice. I’ll give you five seconds to decide.

It took only one second for all to blurt out “I’ll join!”

“Good. Now, we’ll hold onto your weapons until we’re sure y’all ain’t a danger to others. And each of you will be assigned a shadow to help you assimilate—and to keep an eye on you. If you step out of line, even a little, there’s a pack of hungry Zoms tied up out back that we’d be happy to feed you to. Got it?”

It was a little white lie, but the intruders didn’t know that, and it sure got their attention, judging by the pale faces and nervous swallows.

They all nodded their agreement.

“Good. Y’all can start your civic duties by cleanin’ up this mess, while we find you a place to sleep. Oh, and if y’all decide you’d rather leave than stay, we won’t stop you. This ain’t a prison. But I hope y’all’ll give us a few days to grow on you. Wouldn’t y’all rather be part of a community, protectin’ one another, rather than living hand-to-mouth like animals? Think about it.”

* * * *

Two of the seven decided that they’d rather take their chances on the road than try to fit in. They weren’t the fitting-in types. They were given one of the pickups and their weapons. But the other five made an effort and became valued members of the community over the course of the next few months. They weren’t bad people, merely men driven to extremes by circumstance. But now their circumstances had changed.