Authors: Ann Riley
Southern Zombies 4
This book is a work of fiction. Names, graphic symbols, organizations, positions, events and incidences are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2016 Ann Riley
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be used, reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transferred in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Madurangaat MNS
Copyright © 2016 Ann Riley
All rights reserved.
The world we live in now is one where you have to fight or die. There are no exceptions. Sometimes, fighting against the people who want to take what you have is harder than dealing with the walkers. The world may never be the same again. I’m thinking it won't. How could it be? We have lost 75% or more of the human population. Since there are no communications, that number doesn't even include the whole world. No one knows how it is in other countries. We have always said the government was incompetent, well they finally proved it with the zombie outbreak.
We were awakened by shooting and explosions. Marc, Bobby and Diane were already in the kitchen getting ready for the fight. We have a safe room that was added when Marc and I returned from Jackson. Getting the babies herded into the safe room was like herding cats. Screaming and crying ensued. We finally
getthem in and leaveBrittany to watch them. I set Tammy and her husband, Mitchell up in an attic window at the south end of the house to lay down cover fire. Becky, Diane, and Kelley are on the north end in the attic firing. Marc, Bobby, Trey and I are on the roof of the house. We made a small area that we can use as cover for shit like this. Plus, they have stashed some flash grenades up there. Oh yeah. It’s time to light some asses up. It’s hard to care about a human life that is out to kill you and take what you have. Has the zom poc made us cold hearted? Sure. Do we have a choice?
I guess we could lay down and take what people want to do to us, but why would we? Why would we allow people, who merely want to steal, just have what we worked for? That's not likely to happen.
I can hear Marc and Diane firing. I also hear shots coming from Tammy and Mitchell. I can see invaders, trying to run across the yard, start dropping like flies being sprayed with a can of Black Flag. Some are running away. Did they think we would let them have our home?
“How does it look on that side?” I ask Marc.
“They are clearing out.” He says.
“Well, we have walkers coming now. I wonder, did these idiots think about the noise drawing them too?” I ask Marc.
As we turn our attention from the intruders to the zombies, I can see people loading into vehicles and driving off. I think they got more than they bargained for.
The walkers continue their slow shuffle to the house. I start firing as they approach. Trey and Bobby go outside to get in some shots at the ones closer to the house that I can’t see from the roof. Mitchell and Tammy join them.
Diane comes over to stand next to me.
“How many more times are we going to have to defend against invaders?” She asks me.
“As many times as necessary. They will never stop coming. As long as we have this shit fest going on, people will continue to try and take advantage. We have to stop them from taking what we have. People haven't really changed. They only get bolder.
They have always had evil in them, and this apocalypse is just a reason for them to act on it. They see no consequence to their actions anymore.” I tell her.
No, there is no law anymore. It is what it is. A fight for survival. In order to survive, you have to change your whole outlook. You have to do things that normally you may not do. You have to protect yourself and your family at any cost. You have to protect what you love by any means that you have.
It doesn’t take long to clear out the invaders. As we take the last of them down, I turn and head out to where Marc is. We need a plan for when they return full force. And they will. They always do.
approachMarc, I see one left alive. A man, that is.
“Looks like we have Larry the Lagger lagging behind his group.” I tell Marc.
“Son of a bitch.” Marc says.
Marc walked over to the man. He is still alive. He took a bullet in the leg. He is laying on the ground trying to act dead, but you can see him breathing.
“Get your ass up.” Marc tells him.
The man doesn’t move, so Marc kicks him in his injured leg. That gets a rise out of him. He starts yelling.
“If you don’t shut the hell up, I will throw your ass to the walkers.” I tell him.
“Who are you?” Marc asks him.
“I asked you a question. Answer or I will shoot your other leg.” Marc says.
“Damn man, Sean, my name is Sean.” He tells Marc.
“Who are you working for?” Marc asks.
Sean hesitates. Marc pulls his foot back to take another kick at his shot leg.
“Ok, ok. His name is William. I don’t know his last name. I swear.” Sean says.
“Get your ass out of here. Now, before I decide to shoot you again.” Marc tells him.
Sean gets up to leave, limping. He isn’t going to make it past the few walkers ambling along the roadside. I know this. Marc knows this. So we let him go anyway. Like I said, you can’t have any empathy for people who try to kill you.
He makes it to the road and two walkers come from the tree line heading for him. He starts yelling and of course, he draws a few more. And so, as we stand there looking on, one zombie comes from out of the woods at almost a sprint.
“So these fuckers run now? What the fuck Marc?” I say.
“Seems that way.” Marc says.
I raise my 30-30 rifle to my shoulder and fire at the sprinter. I really hope there aren’t many of those.
Mitchell and Bobby come over to where Marc and I are.
“Was that thing running?” Mitchell asks.
“Afraid so. It had a fast walk, almost a sprint.” I tell him.
“Let’s get this mess cleaned up. We need to prepare for the backlash. I know they will come back.” Marc says.
“We need to find out who they are and where they are.” I say.
Suddenly, we hear a scream. Well, I guess Sean is joining the ranks of the undead now. They had him surrounded. I turn and go inside, not really wanting to watch as someone gets served for dinner.
Is that wrong of me to do? Yes. But, he had no business here trying to kill us.
We head back inside and start making plans to prepare. This shit really annoys me. Why can’t people live in peace
as much as possible? We have zombies. Do we really need all the extra drama on a day-to-day basis? So, now we have sprinters. We can look forward to being chased now and possibly getting caught.
I wonder why they are getting faster? Does it have to do with the timing of the turn? Are they still turning from the original flu shot, or is it something evolving in them to make them faster? The bite causes a turn, but are the newer ones who are being bitten and turned the key to the faster ones? Why didn’t I go to college for science and biology instead of computer programming and networking?
I am getting a headache with all this thinking. I head back outside with my Riley. We walk around the yard and he noses around in the edge of the woods. He likes to sniff around the horses and chase them when he is out, so he heads right over to them. I hear a noise behind me and look to see Marc is coming.
“You alright?” He asks.
“Yeah, I guess.” I say.
“Just thinking about the shit coming at us. I know they will be back.” I tell him.
“Who are they?” I ask Marc.
“I’m not sure, but I believe it’s a family that moved to this area a few months before this plague started. I heard the patriarch of the family had just gotten released from a mental facility.” Marc says.
“Well, isn’t that just fucking wonderful? A nut ball is harassing us now.” I smirk.
“So long as they know, I have no qualms about blasting the hell out of a nut ball family to protect ours.” I say.
“Right.” Marc replies.
“I think we need to saddle up the horses and ride out to the woods in the area I believe them to be in. Just to see if we can find out anything.” Marc says.
“Good idea. Let’s go.” I tell him.
We get two horses ready to go and I go into the storage to get two machetes. I hand one over to Marc, and he looks at me.
“It’s quieter than a gun. We can cut walker heads off without shooting.” I tell him.
We let the others know where we are heading and turn to ride into the woods.
Oh, there’s nothing like looking forward to having a sore ass from horseback riding.
Marc and I head into the woods. While we ride, we look to see if there is anything out of the ordinary. Like, traps, feet print, and disturbances in the soil. We see deaders strewn about. At this point, it’s not clear if they were killed or just died, and we aren’t going to get off the horses and look. We see a few heading towards us so we get our machetes out. The horses have grown used to the walkers as long as they aren’t too close to them.
We continue our ride and come upon a large pond.
“Well, I see we have the welcome wagon waiting on us.” I tell Marc.
“Yeah. No shit.” He says.
There are about seventy to one hundred walkers heading at us now. Since they move slowly, we aren’t in danger. Well, let’s say that if we have another sprinter come along, we may be in danger. I wonder are there more of them around?
We ride around the far end of the horde and end up right on the edge of the woods. We continue our trek down the side of the woods until we get to another path leading back into the trees.
“How far?” I ask Marc.
“If they live where I think they do, we are about fifteen minutes away. Straight through this path and to the right when we get to the end.” Marc says.
We continue on. Looking over to my right, I see a snare trap set. I hold my hand up for Marc to stop and I get down and walk over to release the trap. They are trapping on our land. They have no business here. I take the snare and break it, throwing it back on the ground where it was. Intending for them to see it.
I get back on Tombstone. Yes, my horse’s name is Tombstone. WWE? The wrestling? Undertaker and his Tombstone slam? Come on people, I know you have watched WWE at some point. They had to have the most entertaining and fake story lines in history. I miss TV sometimes.
Up ahead, we can see smoke coming from a chimney. We are closer to the house. We get off the horses and walk in the rest of the way. They have razor wire around the perimeter of the woods, which explains all the walker body parts strewn around the ground.
There are three trucks in the driveway and a huge building that could serve as a barn over to the left of the house.
Suddenly, a door slams shut. We look over to the left and see someone coming out of the barn, building, whatever the hell it is.
“I think that was one who came to the house last night. It looks like him.” Marc says.
“So it was these fuckers?” I ask.
Bastards. I think to myself. Why people can’t try to survive a major earth shattering event together is beyond me.
We sit quietly and watch to see what he is doing. The man walks over to a shack that looks like it may have been a decent storage building at one time. When he comes back out of the shack, he is rolling a Gatling gun.
Holy freaking hell. The Gatling gun to me is just like the fifty caliber. Very impressive.
Hislooks to be one of the Civil war models. Will it even fire? Probably. I can see a hand crank with six barrels. This has to be one of the very early models.
Marc and I look at each other and smile. Yeah, he is thinking the same thing I am. We have to have that.
The man rolls the gun over to a truck and is soon joined by another to assist in loading it into the truck bed.
Well, I can see where this is heading. They are getting ready to attack us.
We sit there and watch for a few more minutes. We have seen all we need to. It’s time to get back and get our defense up.
We stand and turn to go back to the horses we tied up a few yards behind us. As we turn, we come face to face with a man who is standing there with a knife. Before I can even think about what is going on, Marc, with a quickness I have never seen in him, takes his knife and jabs it in the man’s temple.
We look at each other and leave the man there for his friends to find. Finally getting back on the horses, we turn and ride back to our home.
The ride back is quiet for a few minutes.
“That was speedy as hell.” I tell Marc.