Get Off My L@wn - A Zombie Novel (19 page)

O
ver the Monday night and into Tuesday (Day 41),
mortar teams attacked the small horde splintered off of CB2 along the path
towards La Crosse and French Island. In the dark, and set back by as much as
two kilometers, not a single team had been challenged. These efforts were
remarkably efficient.

Just the same, a flight of three Blackhawks were
spared from Lambeau Field and relocated to French Island along with resupplies
of fuel and weapons for both the mortar teams and the helicopters.

The mortar teams and choppers made steady
progress throughout the day. The consensus was that French Island would remain
safe given continued attacks against the dead.

My morning meeting with Frank produced little
good will and even less results.

“How’s it going there Frank, all rested,
repaired and resupplied?”

“We have made good use of the lull Walter.
Before you ask, the answer is no. Nothing has changed with regard to evacuating
you.”

“Come on. I made a strong argument for staying
here but as you military people say, conditions on the ground have changed. How
could I know we would have to sit through a second horde even bigger than the
first?”

“We cannot do without your data center’s
results.”

“But you can
do
just fine with the data
center’s destruction? That doesn’t make sense Frank.”

“We don’t believe you are in danger of being
overrun if you maintain stealth.”

“Stealth doesn’t seem possible anymore. The fuel
cell system is definitely attracting Zeke. Have your people figured out what is
drawing them?”

“We have not made progress on that, no.”

“You can see our cameras. They congregate at the
fuel cell fence. Sometimes they get agitated and bang on it before we put them
down. I don’t see how we can survive a horde banging away like that. Before CB2
gets here, we have to shut down. You see that right?”

“At this time shutting down is not an option.”

“Oh come on. Seriously? You must have some computers
in all of Door County. My people there can cobble together a temporary data
center. We can run in both places at the same time for a clean hand-off. We have
almost two days to get this done.”

“We search every building we clear, Walter. You
know tourism was the main industry in Door County before all this. The best we
have come up with is old equipment from lawyers and doctors offices. Your data
center is the only game in town.”

“What about the supercomputer company in
Chippewa Falls? There must be something there we can use.”

“The buildings did not survive. I wanted to
avoid saying this, but if we didn’t have to put up with your prima donna
antics, we wouldn’t. I said your data center is the only game in town. If we
had other options, we would be using them. Is that clear enough for you?”

Ouch.

“What if I just switch the whole thing off?”

“The officer at your location will hold a gun to
your head until you turn it back on.”

“And if I refuse?”

“The officer will pull his trigger and the
technical specialist will turn the computers back on.”

“You would throw away my skills just like that?
In the whole country there are probably only a thousand people with my
combination of skills and experience.”

“Suppose that’s true Walter. You are a numbers
man, let’s do the math. From approximately 300,000,000 Americans you say you are
one in a thousand. So for every 300,000 people on average there is one of you.
We have 300,000 people in Lambeau Field and you are the precious genius we drew.
Are you with me so far?”

I did not like where this was going.

“Across the Administrative Zones we are
collecting more survivors every day. Soon the probability of finding another computer
czar is going to pay off. Besides, there are people here including myself who
think you’re not the rock star you think you are.”

I was silent. The problem with having a worldview
of “people suck,” is that after a while people notice. Back in Silicon Valley
it didn’t matter because I wielded real power and, my world view was the rule,
not the exception. Recently I found myself growing to appreciate being part of
the human race more and more but it is too late. I was typecast.

Frank came back with an olive branch: “Look, you
have been working with us only for a few days. In that short time, you have
accomplished great things with the optimizer and web servers. You have come up
with solutions to big problems you weren’t asked about. Play ball with us
Walter. Sit tight, we will do our best to keep you safe. I have to go, Lambeau
Field out.”

Bill Mancheski heard the entire exchange. I
turned to him and said, “You wouldn’t shoot me would you?”

“It would make me very sad to shoot you.”

“Thanks buddy.”

C
B2 passed Black River Falls. Lambeau had ordered
no further attacks on the horde. Except for the possibility that one or two
zombies might have fallen down and broken a leg, the size of the horde was
unchanged.

The horde bearing down on Door County was south
of Manitowoc. Manitowoc had a rich maritime history and played an important
part in trade on the Great Lakes. It lay just 30 miles south of where the
defensive line for Door County was intended to be along Highway 29.

Military commanders made a wise decision to stop
their advance towards Highway 29 and build a stronger defense starting north of
Kewaunee to take advantage of the Kewaunee River. Meandering northwest, the
actual defensive line was about 8 miles further north of Highway 29 giving four
hours more to dig in.

Stopping further north than anticipated also
meant the military would not have to contend with the eastern half of Green
Bay. Not having to deal right now with Green Bay, by far the largest city in
the area was a major plus.

One other benefit of stopping to the north was
that Interstate 43, the path that MA was following, sloped away to the
northwest just as it approached Door County. If the horde stuck to the highway,
there was a chance Lambeau could be spared entirely. If the line had been built
at Highway 29, it would have crossed the Interstate, directly exposing
Lambeau’s position to the horde.

Two massive operations were planned for today. A
two-mile wide area south of Manitowoc would be mined in depth. The horde would
hit the minefield just after noon.

We watched fixed wing and rotary aircraft
crisscross over the area about to become an impassible no man’s land. Learning
from the previous use of aerial mines, this time the mines were laid in an
inverted V, sort of bell curve shaped, pattern. Last time, mines had been
placed in a rectangular box. Most of the mines to the sides went unused as the
horde narrowed in behind a spearhead. By shaping the minefield in an inverted V
the mission planners counted on shifting the horde in a planned way, rather
than the unexpected way the horde did on its own last time.

The horde hit the minefield in an ovular blob
and immediately shaped into the planned narrowing point. In the daylight, the
crowd that gathered around our big screen TV couldn’t see many flashes as
individual mines detonated. It would be an hour before we would see pockmarks
and bodies strewn about.

However, before the hour had elapsed, the crowd
in front of the television had departed on a mission to liberate building
supplies from a warehouse to our east.

Of the eleven soldiers stationed at Camp
Christmas Tree five remained behind. Four continued the watch on the roof and
one to operate the radio. Lieutenant Mancheski took both of our vehicles, our
Volvo station wagon and Ryan’s 4x4, the other five soldiers plus Ruth Ann on
the mission.

Ruth Ann had all but begged to go. Her
credentials as a sniper earned her a place in the 4x4. With its roof removed it
resembled an old fashioned Jeep. She gave her word she would remain in the
vehicle and provide cover for the advance and return of the assault team.
Specialist Bob Wisnewski would also remain in the 4x4 to cover Ruth Ann and to
act as a driver in case the idling vehicle was in danger of being overrun.

Before leaving, the 4x4 was topped off with gas
from the five-gallon can Ruth Ann had purchased before everything stopped and
the people fled. The Volvo still had nearly a full tank. With the added five
gallons in the 4x4 both vehicles had plenty of fuel to make what in theory was
an eight-mile roundtrip.

Ruth Ann and I said our goodbyes.

“Don’t worry about me Doug. I’m sure the guys
will take care of me.”

“I’m sure they will hon. I’m sure you’ll do
great against a few dead. What if you find yourselves surrounded by too many
Zekes for seven people to handle? You know they win with overwhelming numbers.”

“While you were watching MA hit the minefield we
were watching a close up of the warehouse. There aren’t too many creatures
there.”

“Based on movement? You wouldn’t be able to spot
the statues even with our highest resolution pictures. Also, you can’t see
inside the buildings. You guys don’t actually know what you’re heading into.”

“Hon, if it’s bad we’ll turn around. Besides
look at this shiny new gun they gave me. I just
have
to try it out,”
Ruth Ann said this in a joking way like she was talking about strutting in new shoes.
She raised a sound suppressed weapon that was larger and heavier than the
assault rifles I had seen before.

“Wow,” I looked at it. “Is it a boy or girl?”

Ruth Ann smiled and lowered the weapon to her
side. She leaned in to give me a kiss. I leaned into her just a bit harder than
called for and surrounded my kiss with a hug.

Our watch on the roof put down the walking dead
in our immediate area. From farther away the dead continued to be drawn towards
the fuel cell system like dogs to a hydrant, always the same spot.

While the men on the roof kept watch, the
departing team raised the garage door and warmed up the vehicles to make sure
they were in running order. When they left I reengaged only one of the door’s
hasps and locked the inner door.

“Base this is six. Radio check.”

“Six this is base. Five by five. Good luck.”

I had programming to work on so I plugged in a
laptop within earshot of the radio. My work for the day was to begin writing a
system to help identify people, children mostly, from pictures. Unlike my
previous tasks, this one could take a lot of time.

I have already described the first big website
that went live on my servers. It was a site to help survivors find other
survivors. Mostly, it was for parents to find lost children. As pictures were
entered, certain basic information such as gender, age and hair color was entered
as well. Of course, names, birthdays and even social security numbers would
narrow a search down instantly to a single or small number of individuals. Nevertheless,
all the identifiers we use in our modern age of information were useless if the
person was too young or too traumatized to communicate.

For these people, facial recognition would be
required. This is a not a straightforward task.

I was just finishing making myself comfortable
when the radio came to life.

“Six to base.”

“Go ahead six.”

“Pass on to Lambeau we can see Zeke headed in
your direction from at least half a mile away. Whatever is bringing them in; it
carries at least that far.”

“Copy Six. Half mile. Will pass it on.”

Great. When the crush of CB2 is upon us, we’ll
be a bright light to the moths. I was still thinking about this last bit of
news when the radio came alive again.

“Six to base.”

“Go ahead six.”

“Highway Twelve and Vollendorf Lane. Engaging
eight Zekes.”

“Copy.”

“Zeke is down. Count twelve more visible in the
next klick. Proceeding.”

“Copy that. Dozen Zekes over the next
kilometer.”

I wasn’t going to get anything done. At this
point I started doodling boxes in three point perspective and coloring in their
sides.

“Christmas Tree this is Six. Big rig blocking
Chuck Lane east bound. Going around. We’re switching to play by play.”

“Copy Six. Play by play.”

I looked at Brandt and asked what “play by play”
was.

“They are close to the warehouse and will be
talking to each other now.”

“We will be able to hear them?”

“Yes. That’s what the Lieutenant means by play
by play.”

We listened in.

“Fences look good from here. Chuck, go north to
the truck entrance. Take a look. We’ll stay here to cover you.”

A mike clicked.

A moment later, “LT, the truck entrance doesn’t
have a rigid gate. Just barriers. Zeke can walk in and out if they want.”

“Copy. Come on back. Let’s take a look at the
rest of the fencing. The plywood we want is further to the east.”

A moment passed.

“Movement in the office windows,” came Bill Mancheski’s
voice.

“Walkers near the fences, LT.”

“Copy that. They have eyes on us. Take them out.
We don’t need them following us into the campus.”

“Hooah.”

A moment passed.

“Barry, we’re turning left into this entrance.
Swing ahead of us to raise the barriers. We have your back.”

“Copy LT.”

“And go through the guard’s hut. See if they
have a directory of the warehouses. I know where the plywood is but we need
adhesive too. No idea where we will find that.”

Ruth Ann told me later that one of Bill’s men,
Specialist John Rentmiesters, clipped chains on both barriers and left them raised.
They wouldn’t keep out walkers but they would impede a hasty exit by our vehicles.

“Gates up. I can see stacks of plywood ahead to
the right,” said John’s voice.

“Is there a directory in the guard shack?”

“Looking now.”

“Barry, two Zekes approaching. You have eyes on
them?”

Specialist Barry Clark was standing watch next
to the Volvo. Two zombies were staggering towards him.

“I got them, boss… two Zekes down. I don’t see
any others.”

“There’s one coming out from behind the wall at
the parking lot to the west. We’ll take it.”

“Six,” John’s voice, “good news, we scored a
directory. Warehouse three has construction adhesives and caulk. Bad news, that
warehouse is at the west end of the compound.”

The group had made their entrance at the far
eastern end of the complex.

“Copy. Load up on plywood. We’ll provide cover.”

Later Ruth Ann filled in some of the details
that didn’t go out over the radio.

“Bill is a smart young man. A planner and a
worrier in his own way just like you. Even though the plywood was right there
he had us pull around the stacks so that we were as hidden as we could be from
the gates and still pointed towards them. If we had to bug out, we didn’t need
to turn around.”

She continued, “Then he told everyone under no
circumstances should we engage any dead at or near the gates. We had to keep the
path through the gates clear of bodies. At each step he was thinking about the
next and also how to keep escape routes open. It was neat watching him command
knowing a few weeks ago he was an insurance salesman.”

“The men loaded twelve sheets of plywood into
the Volvo. Bill called a huddle with Bob, our driver and Barry who was driving
the Volvo,” she said.

“We are here,” said Bill pointing to the east
end of map in the campus directory. “Warehouse three is here,” pointing to the west
end of the campus. “As you can see there is no straight path between here and
there. Plus, all the routes between here and there are narrow. Perfect for getting
surrounded.”

As Bill pointed out, an enormous warehouse
stretched north south all but blocking passage east west. To get around the
building to the south would mean a thousand feet of narrow passage with one
side bounded by loading bays hiding who knew what. To get around the building
to the north would mean an even longer path with three blind turns and loading
bays on both two sides.

He continued, “We’re going to exit the way we
came in, turn west and head to the next set of gates. We’ll make our entry there
and the warehouse will be straight ahead.

On my laptop, I could see the road along the
southern wall of the warehouse campus was changing color. There were dead on
the move.

“Brandt tell them the dead are moving in behind
them. Look at my laptop.”

“Six this is Christmas Tree. Six this is
Christmas Tree.”

“Six, go ahead.”

“Satellite shows dead are walking on the main
road. We can’t tell which direction based on our latest picture and we can’t
tell exactly how many, sir.”

“When is your next picture Christmas Tree?”

“Almost a minute from now sir. A lot can change
in a minute.”

“Understood Christmas Tree, keep us advised. Six
out.”

Back on the radio I heard, “Everybody set? We
have to boogey.”

A mike click came back.

“OK. We’re turning west folks. Move out.”

The gates they were passing through were set two
hundred feet in from the main road. Their view of the main road would be
blocked to the west by a wall until they reached the road itself.

“LT the way is blocked. I say again, the way is
blocked.”

A moment later, “I see them Barry. I make about
two hundred hostiles heading towards us. Barry?”

“Affirmative LT. More coming behind them from
the office buildings down the street.”

True enough. Had our people stayed inside much
longer the gates they had entered would have choked with the dead.

“Six, this is Christmas Tree. Confirm estimate
of two hundred on the road in your direction. Estimate two hundred more
converging on your area.”

Bill had to make a split second decision.

“Lim, hop out and get in our car. We are going back
into the complex. Barry, you back up due east to the intersection with Kane
Road. Make sure you draw them with you. Don’t let any go in the gates after us.
Once you get to Kane Road hold their interest as long as you can and then
escape either north or south. It doesn’t matter, you know the way back to
Christmas Tree after that. Understood?”

“Hooah.”

Specialist Lim Zsu ran between the cars. In my
nervousness I asked Brandt, “How come everyone is a Specialist? Who washes
dishes?”

Brandt shrugged. “The guys who wash dishes are
Specialists too. It’s like clerks being Customer Service Consultants, it’s good
for our self-esteem.”

Then it hit me. Bill’s car was going back inside
the compound. As the dead headed east outside the wall towards Barry’s
diversion, Bill was going to head west on the other side of the wall. Bill’s
team would be entering warehouse three by themselves.