Survive (10 page)

“Forget it, John. The news said bites are one hundred percent fatal. I’m not coming back as one of those...things.” Harold spat the last word out as if it tasted bad.

“We don’t know that for sure, dad. Just hold on,” John said. The barricade began to move aside, the sound of a tractor growling behind it.

Harold looked at John grimly. “Tell your mother I won’t be home for dinner. She knows the rest.” He pulled the .357 from his waistband. “It was good enough for Dan, it’s good enough for me.”

John reached for the pistol but Harold was quicker. He clamped his lips down on the barrel and pulled the trigger.

* * *

John drove the dump truck through the barricade, followed by the pickup and the tractor trailer. Sara pushed the shipping container back into place with the orange Kubota tractor. Harold’s body lay in the passenger seat, covered by John’s shirt.

They parked the vehicles in the driveway, with the tractor trailer half on the lawn of Harold and June’s house.

John’s mother was waiting for them, along with most of the other members of the Mason clan. Wordlessly, John got out and walked to the passenger side. He opened the door and lifted his father’s body out of the seat. Gently, he laid his father down on his lawn.

June came and stood beside John. They hugged, June crying silently. Sara drove the orange tractor into the driveway, parked it, and ran over to John.

“Oh god,” she said, hugging John and June at the same time. “John,” she whispered, tears starting to spring from her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Long minutes passed. Family members came and hugged June, while Sara held her husband. Some relatives spoke words of comfort, though no one really listened. Finally, John looked up from his father’s body.

“Sara, why were you and Marta out there on the barricade alone?”

Sara looked over at Douglas. “Because Doug told everybody that the barricade was enough, that nothing could get through.” She was still crying a little bit. Her sadness and anger towards Douglas made her words come out slower than normal as she remembered the scene. “Patrick and Kurt were up at the other barricade, putting that one into place. When I asked for people to go watch the barricade, Doug told them they didn’t have to listen to me, that I was just a stupid girl. Marta called him an asshole and came with me.

We thought they were going to climb up and get us. I tried to get Marta to go for help but she wouldn’t leave me. John, I was so scared.” Her voice broke off as her crying resumed.

John looked across the crowd of family members. Douglas stood on the other side, on the very edge of the crowd. He noticed John’s gaze and paled. John stormed over to him, shoving people out of the way. He grabbed his cousin by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

Douglas resisted, slapping at John’s hands. “Get your fucking hands off me!” He yelled.

John punched him square in the face. Still holding him up, he punched him again. Everyone grew quiet, staring.

“Never. Again. Doug.” John said, punctuating each word with a punch. He dragged the barely conscious man over to Harold’s body. He shoved Douglas down to the ground, and pulled the shirt off his father’s face. Douglas stared into the dead man’s eyes, at the tragic mess that had been John’s father. “This is your fault.”

“Wha...what? No, I didn’t...” Douglas stammered, trying to back away from the body.

“You left them to fight alone! This could have been them too. My fucking wife, Doug. It could have been all of us.”

Douglas slumped to the ground, defeated. “I’m sorry,” he began repeating over and over.

* * *

They buried Harold later that night, after they’d had a simple service. A bonfire was lit, and people gathered around the grave. All except for Douglas, who manned the barricade by himself, a radio next to him with instructions to call for help at the first sign of Zed activity. John placed a simple wooden marker at the head of the grave, behind Harold’s house. He looked around.
I wonder how many more we’ll have to put here before this is over,
he thought grimly.

John and Sara sat up with June until she fell asleep. She looked as if she’d aged a decade in one day, Sara told John later. He agreed with her.

Finally they walked back to their little cabin. Princess woke up from her nap on the porch as they arrived. She woofed happily at them as they ruffled her fur.

John took Sara into his arms as they stood on the porch, listening to the crickets chirping in grass. “You did good today, Sara. Real good. I am so proud of you. You know that, right? That what Doug said isn’t true, about you being a stupid girl?”

Sara kissed her husband’s bearded chin. “Of course I know, John, You’re not so bad yourself, big guy,” she said, smiling up at him.

That night before bed, John went down to the cabin’s basement. He pulled a dusty cover off from a little table. A short wave radio sat on the table. The radio was plugged into the wall, though a small car battery sat ready next to the table, on the floor.

John switched the radio on, tured the dial to a certain frequency, and spoke. It took several tries, but finally, someone answered. John picked up a pencil and began writing on a little notepad.

He listened to every voice, strangers all, as they spoke, seeking help, advice, or just another living soul to talk to. Important bits of news made it to John’s notepad.

Soldiers seen at Cheyenne. Groups of survivors in Omaha, Chattanooga, Reno, Houston, a few other places. Isolated individuals in some places as well. Alaska safe. Europe and Africa gone. Men in camouflage seen executing the living as well as the dead.

John frowned at this last bit of information, but did not respond.
Not yet
, he thought to himself.

He shared the news of other groups of survivors with Sara as they lay in bed, but said nothing about the camouflaged men. He frowned, wondering why Jcon14 hadn’t answered his calls.

That night, the nightmares were of his father.

Chapter 8

September 24, 2010

Brattleboro, Vermont.

John woke to the sounds of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen. The smell of coffee and frying bacon permeated the air and brought a smile to his face. He swung his feet out of bed and stood up, pulling on his shorts and stepping into his slippers. He headed out to the kitchen and found Sara putting plates of bacon and eggs on the table. Sneaking up behind her he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

Sara giggled. “I heard you coming. You don’t exactly exude stealth, you know.”

“What are you talking about, I’m a friggin’ ninja!” John exclaimed indignantly.

“Okay dear. Whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes and poured steaming hot coffee into two cups. They sat down at the table, ate their breakfast and talked about the past day’s events. John avoided the subject of his father as much as he could, and Sara didn’t press the issue. When they were finished, Sara picked up the dirty plates and carried them to the little sink. As she began washing them, she turned back to John.

“What are you going to do today, hon?”

“Well, we got a lot of supplies yesterday, we’ll need to take an inventory and see about the best way to store them. Nothing in that truck needs to be refrigerated, but it shouldn’t be left out to bake in the sun either,” John sipped at his coffee. “Also, we managed to get quite a few guns that I’d like to see divvied up, and then everyone should practice a little. We have enough ammo to spare a little for training.”

“That sounds good. I’d like to plan something for tonight, if you think everyone would go for it.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” John raised his eyebrows as he smiled at Sara.

“I thought we could have a big party and use up some of the fresh food and the stuff that needs to be refrigerated before we lose the electricity. I think people need it. Yesterday was bad, and not just because of your dad. I could use some distraction to take my mind off of things, John.”

He nodded to her. “I know. I didn’t help anything by going off on Doug like that. He’s an asshole, but he’s family, and right now, that’s all we have. And I am trying not to hold a grudge against everyone who listened to him yesterday. We’re going to have to learn from yesterday, and then put it behind us.”

“Speaking of family, when can we go get Mom, Dad, and Jose?” Sara faced away from John, trying not to let him see the tears forming in her eyes.

John frowned. “I will take Morgan or Truck out the day after tomorrow and see if we can get to them. I don’t know what the border will be like, but we’ll try. We’ll take the dump truck.”

Sara tried not to show her disappointment, but John came over and hugged her anyway. “I know, Sara. I’m sorry we left them. If I’d known how fast things would go to hell, I wouldn’t have left without them.”

“John, you know my dad wouldn’t have come, he’s too stubborn. But now... maybe.”

They finished their coffee in silence, thinking about the day ahead.

John and Sara dressed and were just walking out the door together when Princess started barking. She raced out of the house and past them, barking and growling worse than she ever had before. The couple took off at a run, trying to catch up with her. She ran out into the driveway, and behind Patrick Mason’s house. Sara managed to get around the house first, with John right behind her. As they rounded the corner, they saw Princess facing off against a Zed. The creature was missing its left arm and part of its face, but didn’t seem to be bothered by the damage as it advanced on Princess. Pine needles were matted into the bloody face and shoulder.

Patrick came stumbling out of his back door, shotgun held before him. “What’s all that ruckus?” He came up short as he saw Princess staring down the Zed in his back yard.

John drew his Sig at the same time Sara pulled her Beretta. They fired as Sara screamed, “Princess!”

Princess backed toward Sara, baring her teeth, the hair on her back standing straight up. The Zed staggered under the onslaught, bullets tearing into its withering flesh. It went down on one knee, before Patrick’s shotgun blasted its head into a fine red mist. The body fell backward without a sound.

Princess ran over to the fallen Zed and bit it hard, right on its shoe.

John walked up and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Good girl.”

* * *

“Okay, we have a problem.” John shouted over the noise. The entire clan had turned out into Patrick’s backyard. Even June came out, looking slightly better than she had the night before. They stood around the decaying body of the Zed.

“You don’t say!” Kelly, wearing a bright red Hollister shirt, quipped. Uneasy chuckles broke some of the tension.

“Okay, we have even more problems, then.” John nodded to Kelly. He turned back to the rest of the group. “This one must have wandered over the mountain, through the woods. I didn’t think that would be a problem, but we don’t want even the stragglers hanging out in our back yard.”

“What do you want to do about it?” Patrick said as he cleaned his shotgun on the little picnic table next to his back door.

“Well, first off, I don’t think anyone should be outside without a gun or at least an armed escort. We took in quite a few yesterday, so I want everyone who doesn’t have a firearm to come up to the cabin after this and I’ll get you outfitted with something,” John paused before continuing. “Since we can’t fence off the whole valley, I think we should at least fence off the houses, the cabin, and that little hunting shack.”

Everyone seemed to speak at once, drowning out John’s words, until a single shot rang out in the air. Douglas stood, rifle in hand, a wisp of smoke snaking up from the barrel. “Let him talk!”

John stared for a moment at Douglas, before nodding. “There is a fencing company less than 15 miles from here, on route 5. We can take the dump truck down, load it up with fencing, and bring it back. We can make more than one trip if we need to. I think we could start with a solid chain link, then reinforce it with lumber or cut logs. Hell, we could dig a ditch and line it with sharpened stakes for all I care. But we need something.”

More questions followed, most wondering how they would be able to undertake such a large task while still managing to survive.

“We’ll tell the neighbors what we’re doing and why, and suggest they do the same. I’ll take volunteers, we’ll go get the fencing this morning. I think we should also unload the trailer and get what we can into basements and out of the sunlight. Also, Sara is organizing a little shindig for tonight, so she could use some help.”

“Oh, one more thing,” John looked at the assembled people. “I’m going to be passing out guns and weapons to everyone who can handle one. We’ll be practicing on the scarecrow in the back field, so don’t be alarmed if you hear shots coming from that direction.”

John noticed everyone staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on. Patrick, the eldest Mason there, spoke up. “Well, what do you want us to do, John?”

Oh crap
, John thought to himself.
They really do think I’m in charge!