Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict (33 page)

“We can
fight from an established position. That’s easy. Everyone at the castle did so
when the attack came.”

“I
didn’t,” corrected Steph. “I was running boxes of bullets back and forth and
trying to bandage anyone who was shot.” She shivered. “A lot were hit.”

“Same
difference. Supporting others is still being in the fight, but, like I said,
anyone can fight back if they have a good position. That’s part of the point of
the new place. It will be easier to do this.”

“But,”
argued Briana, not about to give up, “we aren’t always going to be able to sit
behind rocks or walls and shoot at people who are in the open. There may be a
fight in the woods, or we could be attacked while looting a town. We may even
try to get them first, if there was a chance of it. That’s army stuff, which we
don’t know how to do.”

“What do
you two think?” I asked.

Tara and
Dale looked at each other for nearly a full minute.

“We
shoot zombies,” said Dale.

“In the
head,” completed his sister.

“We
shoot bad guys too.”

“In the
head or chest.” Tara hesitated. “Head or heart for the fast kill.”

“They’re
not the ones to be talking to about this,” sighed Steph. “No offense guys.”

They
didn’t respond, going back to fiddling with the machine gun.

“Fine.
Harlan, get on the radio… No, I don’t want to ask for someone to help out and
have the raiders hear about it. They might realize, or think, that we are in a
weak position. I’m going to have to go to the fire station.”

“Should
I tell them you’re coming?”

“I don’t
think so. What I’ll do is head out tomorrow. I’ll take Mary, and Tara and Dale
too, along with several others and plenty of trucks, pickups or large SUVs. I
want more guns, and, getting back to that topic, I want the military kind.
There’s a base in Wyoming. Francis E. Warren Air Force Base is over by
Cheyenne. They should have plenty of stuff, not as much as a marine or army
facility, maybe, but still plenty. The town should have gun stores too. That’s
always good. Harlan, you said you never looted there, right? I remember you
talking about that after you joined us.”

“Not
that far south, no. We did take things from stores in the small towns near the
ranches, and plenty from Yellowstone, mostly items left behind in cars and
campers, and the gift stores and restaurants there. As far as I know,
everything in Cheyenne is sitting there untouched.”

“That’s
a big town Jacob,” warned Briana, “not a huge city, but still large. That means
lots and lots of zombies. It’s bigger than Chadron, and you know how hard that
was to clear out.”

I
nodded. “When we get to the fire station we can have them send off a messenger
to get people from the ranches to help. I’m sure they’re going to want more
weapons and bullets – they have to – and maybe there will be some helicopters
we can recover, the kind with guns on them. We know the ranches have pilots.
That sort of equipment would help big time against the raiders.”

“See if
you can’t get them to send some of the normal helicopters they already have on
the looting run,” said Briana. “I’ll feel better if you have someone in the air
who can tell you what the city looks like, before you get there.”

“Kidnap
a pilot and bring him back afterward,” added Steph. “We could use one here.”

“We
really could,” agreed Briana, “but I’m going to say use friendly persuasion
instead, maybe bribery.”

“I’ll
ask,” I promised.

*
* *

We left
for our Cheyenne looting run on July 15. I had Mary beside me – Briana
overruled her offer to drive a separate vehicle before I could, saying it was
too dangerous – with the twins reclining in the back. There was no rear seat
but plenty of room since my Jeep Wrangler was the longer, four door variety.
The pair had also stuffed a foam mattress back there, wedging it firmly in
place. I’m not certain, but I think their level of comfort was exceeding my
own.

Accompanying
us were a half dozen trucks, each with an animal trailer hitched to the back,
and two of our largest U-Hauls – one was actually a Ryder truck, but that’s
pretty much the same thing. Additionally, we had eighteen volunteers, among
them Harvey and Renee, both of whom had served on the free roaming security
team with Tara and Dale back in Martin, South Dakota. Everyone had a rifle with
scope, at least two pistols, and an assault rifle. The M-16’s were in case we
encountered any living opponents. For the shamblers, hunting rifles were ideal
at a distance and pistols up close.

As
usual, it only took a few hours to reach the fire station. We saw Jenny come
outside, a worried look on her face, which diminished slightly when she
recognized my Jeep. Mary sticking her head out the window and waving probably
assisted in confirming that we were indeed friendlies. I pulled up near the
door, and Mary bounded out before I came to a complete stop. There’d be a
lecture concerning that later.

“What’s
up?” asked Jenny.

“We’re
going shopping. Do you like shopping? I love it. I like trying on clothes. I
like getting lunch at the food court. I love looking in the jewelry stores at
things I can’t afford.”

“Mary
enjoys shopping,” I said, both to shut her up and ensure the matter was
properly understood.

Jenny
began to relax, although she still seemed somewhat anxious. The woman was more
than a little high strung. Granted, our present world was stressful and growing
steadily worse, but she needed to learn to deal with it. It’s not like there
were any viable alternatives.

“We want
to head south to Cheyenne to see what we can take from the city. There’s an air
force base there too.”

“I know.
I used to date a guy whose family was from Cheyenne. He did civilian contract
work for them.”

“Good.
Want to come along?”

She
blanched at this. “No. I’ll just stay here.”

“No
problems.” I didn’t think she would volunteer. Jenny was nice, but not the
adventurous type. “Can you let the ranches know, at least those nearby. If we
get more people, we’ll have a good chance of pulling it off, and there should
be plenty of weapons to go around, other supplies too.”

One of
her companions departed ten minutes later on a dirt bike – there were three
people on permanent duty at the fire station with others coming and going
regularly. The ranches had apparently considered hitting Cheyenne in the past,
but the smaller communities scattered about the center of the state proved more
than sufficient for their needs. No one saw a reason to head that far south.
The risks were high, and it was very possible that zombies had made their way
up from Colorado.

The
thought of hundreds of thousands of dead bodies tromping along the interstate
that led to Denver and Colorado Springs had occurred to me as well. There were
massive populations only a few hundred miles south, and the way zombies
endlessly wandered meant they would have spread out. However, the pattern was
anything but even or consistent. It was possible that Cheyenne was clear enough
to enter.

*
* *

“This
sucks.”

“Watch
your language Mary.”

“Please.”
She flipped a strand of blonde hair to the side. “I could say way worse
things.”

“I’ll
tell Lizzy if you do.”

The
fourteen year old frowned. “Not fair. I’m way too cute to threaten, especially
that way.”

“Not
much is fair nowadays.” I continued to stare through the binoculars. “But you
are cute, and this definitely does suck.”

We had
joined nearly fifty men and women from the ranches two days after we informed
Jenny of our plans, meeting them six miles north of Wheatland on I-25. Getting
there had not been difficult. While there were plenty of wrecked and abandoned
cars, none prevented us from passing through, nor was there an overabundance of
zombies. Unfortunately, their numbers rapidly increased as we continued south.
I’m going to go ahead and say that, yes, the damn things had drifted out of
Colorado in huge numbers.

Out of
courtesy for the ranchers, we were killing any we came across. Now, I normally
just drive past, not expending precious ammunition or wasting time when it
doesn’t much matter. These could threaten the Wyoming refugee centers, however,
so we did some cleanup work on their behalf.

Regarding
ammunition, I was getting more and more concerned. We were anything but
wasteful, and we had several hundred thousand rounds on hand. That’s right,
hundreds of thousands. However, while that meant we could kill zombies for
years to come, it would be different if we faced the raiders. Shambling corpses
don’t dodge. They don’t hide. They move at a fast walk, at best. It only takes
one or two bullets per kill. Against real people, we could burn through our
supplies very, very quickly if we weren’t careful.

All
manufacturing had ceased. Correction, the military and people on the islands
were probably making ammunition. At the very least, they were building the
factories or machines they would need to do so. It was likely the same for the
other remaining nations. Since we could not reach them, none of that was of any
use, making it essential that we empty every national armory we could find,
along with gun stores, sporting goods stores, and so on.

“They
should have given us an airplane,” commented Mary.

“It
wouldn’t have made a difference. What we’re looking at tells us all we need to
know.”

My Jeep
was the foremost vehicle in the convoy, and it was from there that the two of
us reviewed the situation. The twins were a few yards ahead, killing those
zombies that drew too close using silenced, low caliber pistols. A burly guy
who, coincidentally, was staying with the Myers family had joined them. With a
baseball bat in one hand and a trash can lid in the other, he was bashing
skulls. Personally, I think the man might have done better swinging the bat
with both hands, but maybe he felt more comfortable being able to fend off the
shamblers if they got too close. It’s important to feel good about your chances
of staying alive. Helps with the despair.

The
Ranching Collective was using aircraft regularly, mostly fixed wing prop
planes. These would take off from private air strips and fly around marking the
location of the raiders’ scouts. They had helicopters too, but those were
primarily used to move people, generally the sick or injured. On the downside,
they were having fuel problems and possessed a limited number of pilots. That
was why they’d refrained from assigning anyone to help us.

“I don’t
think we can reach Cheyenne,” said Mary.

The
fellow beside me gave a short and harsh laugh. “We’d reach it missy, but we
would never get out again.”

“Not
worth it,” I mumbled.

“What’s
that?” he asked.

“Huh?
Oh, I was thinking out loud. We might be able to take Wheatland, back the way
we came, but it would still be a lot of trouble.”

“Not
much there to take,” acknowledged the man. “Some food, got a hardware store too.
Nothing we can’t do without or get elsewhere.”

“That
little place we passed on the way wasn’t too bad,” said Mary, “the one north of
Wheatland.”

“That
would be Glendo,” he replied. “Not much there either.”

“Few
zombies that we saw,” I commented. “We can finish clearing it easily enough and
just take everything.”

He
nodded slowly. “It would work, and I don’t want to be going back empty handed.
The wife would have my hide on the wall. Got Douglas north of that too. We hit
it a few months ago but not thoroughly.”

“Then I
say we take both towns.”

“Woo Hoo!”
shouted Mary. “I call dibs on any Hello Kitty T-shirts we come across.”

I wasn’t
certain if she was kidding or not.

“Got a
favor to ask too, if you don’t mind.”

I
finally put down the binoculars and turned to face the man. What was his name?
I’m lousy with names, always have been. I’ll ask Mary later. She’ll know.

“Have my
daughters with me, sixteen and seventeen. They’re driving so those of us older,
wiser, and less likely to be missed can stand up.”

While I
know parents can’t bear the thought of their children dying, said children
generally want to keep the parents around as long as possible as well. I would
have limited the comment to older and wiser. Sometimes I think too much.

“Want me
to take them back to Nebraska?”

That had
to be what he wanted. Several others had asked if we could hold more people or
how we were set up to care for them. None had asked us to take anyone in, yet,
but they were definitely probing. The sheer number doing so had me worried, as
did the information concerning how many raiders had been seen driving around
the state, usually in groups of two or three, but also larger bands of twenty
or more. My earlier estimates might have been off. They were coming, and it
would be soon.