Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (32 page)

“But
what do they do when the food runs out? That’s the problem. That’ll always be
the problem.”

“They’ll
make do, move, or die. You know, I really would like to get in touch with some
others. I want to know what’s happening across the entire planet. Damn, I hate
not having the Internet.”

“I hate
not having electricity. I’d like to be able to use a hair dryer on occasion.”

I paused
to wipe the sweat from my eyes. It wasn’t that hot, but it was muggy. “We’ll
get a generator soon, maybe use wind power since we’ll run out of gasoline
eventually. That’ll give light, some movies for entertainment, and the sort.
Until everything breaks down anyway. A few years of relative comfort, I think,
after we get some homes built that can withstand the winter. We can also power
up radios, proper ones that have a good range. Then, possibly, we can talk to
other survivors, get their stories, see how they’re living, maybe get some good
ideas.”

“Would
be nice to have some news,” she agreed.

*
* *

We
finished the fence shortly after dark, working by lantern light. Getting it up
that fast had been impressive, but I was exhausted and barely able to lift my
arms. If any zombies showed up, I would be most irate, possibly devoured and
turned since I wasn’t sure if I could use a gun or not. Still, we were able to
set up tents inside. That made everyone happy. Sleeping in a car might be
safer, but it was never fun.

There
was going to be a watch of course, two people at all times. Briana and I took
first. Lizzy, fortunately in private, told us no alone time while we were
supposed to be working. You had to love her. One person would be by the gate,
it being the weak point. Zombies remembered enough to work latches and doorknobs.
They might figure it out. We’d put a bar across it, but, even so, it wasn’t
worth the risk. The second person would walk around the perimeter stepping on
boxes to take a look around. If that one got tired, they could switch.

The
reason we took first watch was purely selfish. I didn’t want my sleep
interrupted. Middle watches were hard. You know, a lot of what I do is selfish.
It doesn’t bother me though, not as long as the work is done and no one is
complaining too much.

The
encirclement was large as well, covering about a half acre. That was more than
enough space to ensure the tents were kept appropriately distant from the
outhouse. The latrines were still a work in progress, lacking a roof, but there
was a rickety wall providing ample privacy. The toilet paper was in zip lock
bags to keep it dry. Now, running out of that was really going to suck. This
was a conclusion I came to time and time again. It was something I dreaded.
Yes, I realize it seems pretty insignificant, but have you ever tried wiping
with leaves or, worse, your hand?

After we
woke our relief, Briana and I crawled into our tent, too tired to do more than
give each other a brief kiss. Then we passed out, with our clothes still on.

Interlude – Dean’s Story

Dean’s
story was somewhat similar to that of Susan and Timothy. He’d been camping in
the
Nebraska
National Forest when the zombie
apocalypse began. Being self-employed, Dean decided to take a few days off and
meet up with a pair of old friends, Jake and Pamela, who had driven in from
South Dakota
. Not caring for the more popular areas,
particularly in the summer when the crowds were at their worst, the three
headed for one of the lesser known campsites. There they’d pitched their tents,
drank more beer than they should have, and blissfully passed out.

Distant
screaming woke Dean. Bleary eyed and more than a little hung over, he stumbled
from his tent wearing nothing but boxers.

“Hey
guys, you hear that?

He later
learned the commotion was from the pastor’s church group, beside the lake.

A shout
sounded from the other tent, and Dean turned just in time to see Jake slam
against the side, nearly collapsing the thing. He clawed at the inside of the
nylon, trying to get hold of the zipper. Then it was jerked up, and Jake
tumbled out. Only embers of the campfire remained, but it was enough for Dean
to see the blood streaming down his friend’s face, enough to notice the huge
chunk of flesh missing from his cheek, along with a portion of the upper lip.

“What
the… Jake?”

The man
tried to say something, tried to reach him, but Jake tripped and fell, striking
his head on a stone – it had been one they’d used earlier as a seat. There was
a loud crack, and he twitched once before lying still.

“Jake!”
Dean began to get a grip on his senses and moved to help. Then Pamela exited
the tent.

His eyes
and attention shifted to her. He’d known the woman since they were fifteen –
they’d even dated a few times – but Dean had never before seen her without any
clothing, hadn’t even seen her in a bathing suit since graduation. Her waist
wasn’t as narrow as he remembered, but still shapely. Pamela’s legs were well
toned, and her breasts were large and firm. Plastered all over her pale skin
was the blood of the best friend he’d ever had.

Dean
felt the bile rise in his throat.

“Pamela,
what’s happening? What did you do?”

Sated on
the flesh of her longtime boyfriend, the woman paid him no mind. She just
walked around the campsite without purpose, and with his attention glued to
her, Dean neither heard nor sensed the other zombie approaching from behind. A
pair of arms grabbed his shoulders, and he was roughly pulled back. Dean
staggered and stepped on a jagged piece of stone, piercing the arch of his bare
foot. Losing his balance, he suddenly found himself sitting on the ground. The
zombie was dragged down with him, only to lose its grip and tumble into the
fire.

The hot
coals were more than enough to ignite the man’s T-shirt. The cloth went up in
flames as the monster lurched to its feet.

“Stay
the fuck away from me!” cried Dean, as he scrambled backwards in terror.

The
zombie’s clothing vanished, and skin, still burning, turned black and began to
peel away, one layer at a time. This did nothing to slow or hinder the
creature.

“Oh,
God.” Dean began to gag.

He
managed to get up and jog back a few steps, looking about desperately. Jake was
unconscious or dead, lying in the dirt. Pamela was walking about senseless. And
this, this thing that should be screaming in agony was bearing down on him.
Dean picked up a stick and slammed it against the monster’s chest. It rocked
back. He hit it again, and it fell only to rise once more.

“Stay
back,” warned Dean. What was going on? He brandished the branch he was holding.

The
zombie was not impressed. It moved forward, and Dean struck the monster as hard
as he could, managing to bowl it over. Then he darted around behind his tent.
The zombie looked for him after it struggled to its feet a third time, but Dean
was out of sight. Then screams from the pastor’s camp caught its attention, and
the zombie, still smoldering, shambled off in that direction.

Sighing
in relief, Dean started for Jake. Then he stopped and went to the opening of
his tent instead. Reaching inside, he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. A
shirt followed. He was reaching for his boots when Pamela passed by. He stopped
and watched her carefully, but she was still in a daze. The woman didn’t even
seem to notice him. Dean got his foot in the first boot.

“Jake!”
he exclaimed, when his friend began to move.

His
words caught the newly reanimated corpse’s attention, and Dean got another good
look at the bite wound on Jake’s face, made worse by protruding shards from his
shattered cheek bone. That wasn’t the limit of the injuries however. Striking
the rock had broken his jaw, and it moved at a weird angle, missing most of the
teeth, as the mouth opened and closed in anticipation of feeding.

Dean
didn’t ask any more questions. He hastily got his final boot on and was up and
moving just before Jake reached him. He ran out of the limited light cast by
the campfire and barreled right into Pamela. She was knocked over, and he fell
atop her, one hand pressing down on her left breast. The other landed on her
face, and he felt the warmth of Jake’s blood on her lips and chin.

On a
side note, Lizzy made some comments about Dean feeling up a zombie. That did
not go over well, but, to her credit, she did apologize. It was in poor taste
and unjustified, especially since this was a dear friend of his.

Screaming,
he tried to push himself away. The hand that had touched her breast slid across
her belly landing between her legs. This portion of the story was shared with
me later when no one else was around. After Lizzy’s earlier comments I can see
why he didn’t mention it during the first telling. There was no further detail,
but the fact he had touched her there, in that manner, in that situation,
troubled Dean greatly. He needed to talk to someone, and I was the one he chose
to confide in.

Dean
scrambled to his feet and, just ahead of Jake, sprinted into the forest. He had
no flashlight. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t even know what time
it was. He just wanted to get away. So he ran and ran, ignoring the pain in his
injured foot and the cramps that began to develop. Dean kept going until his
lungs were burning and he’d begun to collide with trees and stumble through the
undergrowth. He finally staggered into a clearing and barely managed to pull
back before a swinging two by four struck him in the head.

“Stop!”

“Damn!”
exclaimed Ray. “I thought you were one of them.”

“What…
What’s happening?” He was barely able to speak.

“A bunch
are crazy, worse than insane. They’re attacking everyone. Hey! Over here. Help
this guy. Get him back to the others.”

Another
man hurried forward and guided Dean to where the pastor’s church group was
tending the injured and trying to keep the children from seeing what was
happening. They were having no luck in that regard, and most were crying or
sobbing, many of the adults too.

Dean
spent the next few hours helping as best he could, and, after the sun rose and
things settled down, he accepted the pastor’s open invitation for everyone to
band together for safety, at least until help arrived. He’d been with them ever
since. Jake eventually reached the campsite. The burning man did so as well.
That one managed to kill a teenage girl in front of her mother before being put
down. Pamela, however, never appeared.

Chapter X

Day
thirty was the beginning of fall. Woo hoo! Summer was over. The heat was largely
gone, at least in northern Nebraska, and the cooler temperatures were certainly
pleasant. Things were going well and seemingly becoming easier. After almost a
month – it was a full month in some cases; more if it were February – I was
feeling confident about the future.

With
most everyone needing an extended break to recover from the prior day’s labors,
we took the morning off and spent the hours relaxing and talking. Our current
plan, which as always was subject to sudden and unpredictable changes, included
the large palisade previously mentioned encompassing several storehouses and
cabins, each of which would contain a large fireplace. That should provide
adequate shelter and keep our supplies readily accessible in case of a nasty
bout of winter weather. We still intended to use cars and trucks for general
storage, but having the essentials nearer at hand would be beneficial.

Dean was
certain he could produce this simple, frontier style fort. We would need some
heavy equipment, but that was easy enough to obtain. And with modern tools, the
project could be completed in relatively short order, even with our limited
numbers. We’d also use chainsaws to prepare large stacks of firewood for the
winter.

After lunch,
I briefly considered ordering everyone back to work but decided against it. I
was still quite sore from all the digging and hammering the day before, and,
looking about, the others seemed to be in pretty much the same condition. So,
while they relaxed or worked on improving our latrines – there were ample
volunteers for that chore – I retrieved my rifle and went hunting.

“Coming
along?” I asked.

Briana
had the .22 in her hands.

“Oh,
yeah. We need to talk. We didn’t last night, so we’ll do it now, since we’re
going to be alone in the woods and all.”

“Is this
something bad?”

She
shook her head. “Don’t be silly. We’re perfectly good. Just talk talk. I wanted
to ask you some stuff yesterday after we finished, but that didn’t happen.”

I hopped
over the creek and held out a hand. Briana jumped, and I grabbed her arm making
sure she didn’t slip. Now, my sweetie is more coordinated than me, so logically
it should have been the other way around, but I couldn’t stop myself from
trying to help her. I didn’t even think about it at the time, and Briana wasn’t
the sort to brush away attempts at politeness or say she was perfectly capable
of doing it herself. That was more a Lizzy thing.

“So,
what’s the topic of the day?” I glanced about in all directions, keeping an eye
out for zombies and anything tasty I could shoot. “Does it involve me getting a
backrub?”

“No, I
was thinking about marriage.”

“What
about it? Are you more ready now, or thinking about details?”

“I… I
don’t know. I know we’ve been over it, several times. I do love you, no doubts
about that, but I’m still not sure.” She paused. “Though an engagement is in
order. You need to find me a ring, something big and beautiful. We should do
things in the proper order.”

“I can
do that, probably soon. We’re going to check out Chadron tomorrow.”

“Really?”
Her eyes were wide. “Oh, the others won’t like that, not after all the stories
about how most who went there didn’t come back, with the two who did turning
into zombies. That might even be worse, in their opinion, than simply having
the whole lot vanish.”

“It’s
too close to ignore Briana, no matter how scared they are. We may not raid it
like Hemingford. Actually, I want to go back there a few more times to really
search the place, but Hemingford is little and we’ll eventually have to loot
Chadron. The zombies will need to be dealt with.”

“Lizzy
will go, me too of course,” she added. “We should hit a liquor store along with
a jewelry store. Maybe we can find some champagne to celebrate. Or just to
drink.”

“I’m not
sure if any we found would still be good or not.” I had no idea how long
champagne would last and what the earlier summer heat might have done to it, or
to any wines for that matter, probably ruined them. “We can look though, maybe
do some taste tests. Chips and salsa would be nice too.” I’d been having
cravings for those the past few days. No idea why.

“Chips?”
She shook her head. “Back to the main issue. My biggest hesitation is Pastor
Wills.”

I
sighed. “That man is a major contradiction. Completely rational for day to day
stuff and lost when it comes to the bigger picture. I’m starting to wonder if
there isn’t some underlying medical or psychiatric condition.”

“Exactly.”
Briana stopped. “A rabbit.”

I looked
where she was pointing but didn’t see the animal at first. “If you can, pop it
in the head. We’ll stick it in the bag.” I carried a large satchel for that
very purpose.

She
lifted the .22 and took aim through the scope. I spotted the bunny just before
she pulled the trigger.

“Got
it!” she exclaimed.

We
walked over, and I collected the night’s dinner. “Good size. A few more and
we’ll have enough for a group stew.”

We
pressed on, keeping an extra careful watch. The .22 was not a loud weapon, but
anything that sounded artificial, particularly mechanical, and of course human
speech, caught the immediate attention of any zombie within range.

“His
silliness about someone coming to the rescue was annoying at first. Lizzy
really hated that.”

“She
doesn’t count,” I countered. “Everything annoys her.”

Briana
ran a hand through her long hair, pushing out some tangles. “True, but the
point’s the same. Anyway, while I can sort of see how he thought that, since
they lost contact early on and weren’t really in a position to know what was
happening, Pastor Wills is still obsessed with the idea that others are coming
to help. I know he says things are every bit as bad as we’ve told him, but I
think that’s just for show so he doesn’t appear irrational or stubborn. Deep
down, he really does think there’s going to be a miraculous rescue, and the
pastor isn’t doing anything to prepare in case he’s wrong.”

“Yeah,”
I agreed, uneasily. “I’ve been noticing that all his plans tend to be future
ones, things to be started in few weeks or a month, nothing right away, bad
practice all around. It’s going to bite them in the ass. On the upside, some of
the people, those Simon’s talked to and the ones who went to Hemingford with
us, seem to be moving more toward reality. Might be enough to get things
going.”

“But
none are arguing with Pastor Wills, and he’s in charge over there. It doesn’t
matter what they think if they won’t make him act. I don’t think they’ll do all
that much on their own either.”

I
shrugged. “Not a damn thing we can do about it. I’m not going to get involved.
Not worth the grief I’ll get from his flock.”

“Well, I
do not want to be married by an insane person, even if he is otherwise super
nice.” Briana set her green eyes on me. “It’s bad luck, and I’m not doing that,
even if he is the only minister we have.”

“Then we
wait and see what happens. We’ll have our engagement soon, and that will give
us months for Pastor Wills to get his brain in working order. Let’s just hope
Julie doesn’t warp him any further with her crap.”

Briana
snorted. “Crazy bitch. Too bad it wasn’t her that got bit instead of poor
little Juliette. She was sweet, and it was horrible giving her that name. Shame
on Julie for that too. Just think of the jokes once they started studying
Shakespeare in school.”

I wasn’t
sure if the girl’s name would have been an issue or not, but we dropped the
topic and turned our attention to hunting. There wasn’t much more to be said,
and neither of us really wanted to dwell on the matter – there’d been enough of
that already. Still, the group by the lake was almost entirely dependent upon
his leadership, and many of those currently residing with us considered him the
ultimate authority. It was a less than optimal situation.

On a
side note, I was rather pleased that Briana decided to delay marriage. I was ready
to do pretty much anything if it meant she stayed with me, but I preferred to
take things a whole lot slower. As stated previously, our romantic relationship
had gone from non-existent to ultra-rushed practically overnight. It was
disconcerting to say the least and probably not the best thing, long term or
short.

*
* *

The
three rabbits we bagged were indeed turned into a thick stew, supplemented by a
roasted goat. I tried to catch the animal at first – it appeared to have
escaped from a farm – but the beastie would have none of that. I never got
closer than fifty feet. In the end Briana said to just shoot it, and I obliged
her, bringing an end to Mr. Goat’s adventures.

For my
heroic efforts I was rewarded with a kiss and a quick peek as she pulled her
shirt up. Then she, so very cruelly and with intense malice, tucked it back
into her jeans stating, with perfect clarity, that there would be nothing more
until I found her a proper bed to sleep in. Personally, I think this was
completely unfair. First of all, what value was a bed? We were living in a
tent. It wouldn’t fit. Second, the timing was simply bizarre. Unwilling to give
into blackmail, I chased her down and gave her a good tickle, along with some
inappropriate squeezes. Then, without a word, we both got up and looked around
for zombies. Damn, undead shits were always on our minds. Can’t even be
spontaneous in our new world.

My
declaration concerning the trip to Chadron, which was given after we’d finished
dinner, did not go over well. I was quick to explain that unlike the previous
outing this was not a raid. As such, it was completely voluntary. We weren’t
going there to loot or kill zombies. The purpose was to take a good look and
see what the conditions were. The town was only a few miles away. It could not
be ignored. Additionally, everyone wanted to know what had happened to Ray and
the others. The two who returned from the first attempt to scout the town said
they were dead but never provided any details.

“I’ll
go,” declared Lizzy.

“Me
too,” added Mary.

“No,”
said Lois, shaking her head. “This one is too dangerous.”

“But
Jacob and Lizzy need somebody to stay way back on the roads and keep watch
while they move closer. That’s easy and safe.”

Lois
hesitated, then nodded. We’d been toying with the idea of keeping strategic
watches, now that we had more people to work with. Placing someone on a rise
and giving her binoculars would help determine if there were any less than
obvious threats heading our way.

“I’ll
come,” said Dean. “I can take a look and see if there’s anything we might not
be able to get elsewhere. There’s nothing in Chadron we absolutely have to
have, but any specialized equipment we can salvage might make the work easier
or faster.”

I was
glad for his enthusiasm. As our resident, and only, construction expert, we’d
be up shit creek without a paddle if anything happened to him. Still, this was
just a sightseeing trip, and having Dean around could be beneficial. If nothing
else, he would become more firmly convinced of the danger zombies posed, and
that might lead to the creation of designs and plans better focused on security
and safety.

*
* *

The trip
to Chadron was certainly memorable. We took three vehicles. Briana and I rode
in the Jeep Wrangler. Lizzy, Lois, and Mary took the Grand Cherokee. Finally,
Dean and Alec drove one of the larger pickups. As was so often the case, our
initial, simple plan morphed into a more complicated affair.

“That’s
a whole lot of zombies,” observed Lizzy, “an awful big bunch of the fuckers.”

“Having
second thoughts about going in?” asked Briana.

We were
a couple of miles outside Chadron. The roads were what we’d come to expect
around small towns, relatively clear with a scattering of wrecks and abandoned
vehicles. We could get inside the town proper without too much difficultly.
Unfortunately, from our vantage point, there was no way to tell if any internal
streets were blocked. We might hit a dead end anywhere.

Then
there were the zombies. I had never seen so many in one place before. It wasn’t
quite a giant invincible horde of doom, though close enough. As always, those
caught in the creation event were wearing whatever they’d been sleeping in,
with more and more showing up naked as their clothes steadily tore or rotted
away. I found this less disturbing than I used to.

“Where
did they all come from?”

“No idea
Lois,” I replied. “Well, some might be tourists. Quite a few Mount Rushmore
T-shirts out there. Hey, there’s one for the Crazy Horse Monument. I’ll take
you all there sometime to see. Probably never be finished now, but it would
have been an impressive statue.”

“Weird
that they’ve been hanging around so long,” commented Briana. “I’d have thought
more would have gone down the roads. Think they’re migrating south toward us? I
mean, those places are further north.”