The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2) (4 page)

"Now listen here," said Old Ben, drawing the
attention back from the laughter infecting the room. "I think Kyle's got a
good head on his shoulders, now he might be a Yankee, but-"

"I grew up not two hours from here," Kyle said
with a smile.

"Actually," broke in Abe, "Mom was from
Pennsylvania, so technically doesn't that make us half Yankees?"

"Hold on," Patrick interrupted in a slow southern
draw, "Does that mean I'm a southerner now that I live here?"

Edmund stood and waved both his arms out. "You're all
bloody Yanks."

"Confound it, respect your elders, I've got the
floor," yelled Old Ben, his voice crackling. The group, torn between
laughing and being aggravated, all turned to Old Ben. "That's better. Now,
I was saying…Well, I must have said it."

Old Ben sat down, ignorant of the smiles aimed in his
direction.

Kyle gave a small cough, and everyone turned back in his
direction. Kyle looked at Eric. "Did you count how many rounds we went
through?"

Eric gave a nod, then pulled a small piece of paper out of
his pants. "Yeah, we used about two thousand rounds this morning, give or
take a hundred. "Eric looked from the paper to see Kyle clenching his
teeth.

"Two thousand rounds?" asked Kyle, hoping the
count was wrong.

"Or less," said Eric. "It seems, some of us
got a little carried away."

Old Ben, shaking his head in disgust, nodded and spoke
again. "Terrible shooting son, no doubt about it. It's a good thing they
can't shoot back. But, I saw it coming. First time in a real fight, I imagine,
people had the shakes and shooting ain't as easy as people think. And these
people, ain't really people, they’re-"

"Zombies," Patrick insisted.

"Diseased," said Kyle.

"Whatever they are," finished Old Ben, "put
the fear of God in some people here. Shaking you see."

Kyle took a minute and thought back to how many rounds they
loaded on the trucks when they left. About 10,000 if he remembered correctly. A
fifth of that was gone now. If they ran out of bullets, they were in real trouble;
no way could they fight these things hand to hand.

Old Ben wasn't done though, he cleared his throat, a raspy
attention grabber. "If we're running low on bullets, we could always hit
up the Coast Guard station. I doubt the Coast guard ever got anything going in
all of this. Everything is probably sitting there, maybe not a lot, but ready
for the taking."

Kyle nodded at this, "Our AR-15's fire a .223 and the
Coast Guard probably uses the 5.56 round. It'll cause some problems."

"I know that sonny, I been shooting before you was
peeing in a diaper. The armory has M16s as well, maybe a few M4s, but probably
the older rifles. Anyways, it's an idea. I'm just here for one last ride."

"I was hoping not to get into any firefights, but we
can't afford to run out of bullets. I think we'll have to check it out. We're
lucky that it's on this side of the Island. Okay, next is food. Jasmine?"

Jasmine pushed off Patrick, where she’d been reclining and
keeping an eye on her kids. "We still have some cooked meat from
yesterday, and a lot of food, which will go bad in the next two or three days. After
that, we have some MRE thingies you stole from the Plant. We also have some
canned goods and such. With this many people though, it will go fast."

"Thanks Jasmine," Kyle said, not feeling good
about this meeting at all. "Anyone have any suggestions on this?"

"We could hunt and fish," suggested Eric, running
his hand over his thick beard.

"Yes, probably long term we could, but I want to get
settled and get this place safer before we send out hunting trips."

"Let's just go to the supermarket and grab a few
things," volunteered Edmund.

"Another possibility, but that may be dangerous. Is
there an easy solution, one that limits our chance of meeting tons of the
diseased?

The table was quiet a minute before Abe tossed his hat in
the ring, "Are there any food warehouses we can get to?"

Kyle liked the idea and looked around the table. Jasmine
spoke up, "I don't know about any warehouse on the Island, but there's
that new Costco. It's a small one, as far as Costco's go, but it has a lot of
food we could use. "

Patrick looked at Eric, "Hey man, could you hook your
tractor up to one of the trailers at the loading dock?  We could throw tons of
stuff in there and just drive it back here."

"Of course it can, crazy hair," said Old Ben,
"that's what's it's made for and I've kept it in good shape."

"Okay, that's a good option. Now, last thing, I know
how I feel, but what do you guys think about bringing people here, who need
help I mean?  Remember, it's anarchy out there right now, and isolation is
probably the safest policy until order is restored."

"Well, of course, we're going to help them Kyle
Smalls, what kind of question is that," said Jasmine, as she got up from
the ground. "Now, I know, for some reason, you have those three kids in
Old Ben's cell down there, but we need to let them out. And help any others
that might need it as well."

"In the boy’s defense, that cell was right
comfy," said Old Ben helpfully.

"When I want your opinion old man, I'll withhold your
fiber," she said heading towards her kids in the corner. Old Ben burst out
laughing at the comment, his rasping laugh echoing off the brick walls.

Chapter 3

In the end, food and ammo were given priority. Already
passing noon, everyone thought it a good idea to wait until tomorrow for the
scavenger hunt.

   Jasmine introduced the new residents of the fort, but
Kyle and Abe didn't have time for a proper introduction. It could wait. The sun
set early in late November and nobody wanted to be out in the dark, not in this
world. The trucks needed to be unloaded and Kyle also wanted to check out the
visitor center before dark.

Kyle decided that Abe and Edmund needed more experience
working with a team, and clearing the visitor center, a small building, would
be perfect.

"Hey, I'm going to turn this saw on for about thirty
minutes," Eric informed the small group as they neared the front gate.
"Just wanted you to know. I'm going to cut this bridge in half, so we can
raise and lower it easily."

"A drawbridge, brilliant," said Edmund, giving
Eric a thumbs up. Eric ignored him.

"We're staying here for that, and as long as the door
is open," Kyle answered. He'd also placed Patrick and Old Ben on top of
the wall, to keep watch; he wasn't taking chances.

The next thirty minutes were spent emptying trucks and
making the gate into a draw bridge. Abe grimaced at the sound of the saw, as it
would draw every diseased in the area. A few showed up, their presence putting
everyone on alert. The diseased were dealt with quietly, by James and Kyle,
both preferring to shove them in the moat and deal with them later.

Cutting complete and trucks unloaded, Kyle, James, Abe and
Edmund jumped into a truck and drove slowly towards the visitor center, which
was less than a few hundred yards away. The landscape was mostly open. Its
sandy ground didn't provide much in the way of vegetation, so the group had a
clear view of their surroundings.

They pulled up to the small brick building, checking to
make sure they saw no diseased in the immediate area. All clear. They jumped
out of the truck, closing the doors quietly. James grabbed a pair of bolt
cutters, acquired from Eric, and the four walked to the front door, which had a
chain and lock going through it. A sign hung from the window, which said it
would be closed for Thanksgiving. That probably meant an empty building, but
they still needed to check it carefully. James snapped the lock, pulled the
chain through and entered the reception area.

They scanned the place, but it was deserted. The absence of
people and electricity gave an eerie feeling as they checked out the darkened building.
It had two bathrooms, a small conference room and a main viewing room, which
held all the artifacts; all were empty. Weak light slipped in from the windows,
leaving the museum in shadows.

"This place is bloody creepy," Edmund whispered
to no one in particular. Privately, Abe agreed with him and wondered what they
could find in this place anyways. Leave it to Kyle to look through a history
museum in the apocalypse.

"Someone needs to stand at the door," said Kyle a
little louder than Edmund, who flinched at the voice.

"I got it," Abe said, "museums are your
thing, not mine."

Kyle smiled, "Thanks, we won't be long."

Abe walked off and Kyle turned to the many glass cases that
filled the small museum. Muskets, rifles, flags, cannon balls and assortments
of relics from the Civil war lined the walls. Kyle scanned them until he came
to what he was hoping to find. Jackpot. A horizontal glass display laid in
front of him, which contained a variety of swords and bayonets. Kyle scanned
the display, looking for a way to open the case. He found a small lock, called
James over and had the thing popped open.

"I'll take this one," Edmund said, moving around
Kyle and grabbing a long curved sword.

"Have at it buddy," said Kyle, "that's a
Calvary sword, made for slashing, so unless you want to cut the diseased heads
off, then you might want to grab a bayonet."

"Ah, good one mate."

"This is what we want," Kyle said, reaching down
and grabbing one of the smaller swords. "I was hoping there would be one
here. It's an artillery short sword, so it's shorter, actually it looks a lot
like a roman gladius, just narrower.”

"How long?" asked James quietly, his large frame
blocking the light.

"The blade's about a foot and a half, with about six
inches for the handle. Perfect for stabbing, and not too big to be cumbersome
around your waist. Okay-" His words were cut short by a garbled cry from
Abe. Kyle grabbed the sword and ran toward the door.

***

Abe walked back to the reception area, his eyes forwards,
scanning the area outside the glass entrance. He reached the doors, pushed them
open to take a look, the cold November air stinging his face. Nothing. Relieved,
he stepped back, letting the doors close and leaned against the wall, waiting
for Kyle to have a look at the history museum. He laughed, thinking about how
absurd and depressing the whole thing was, letting his mind drift to older
memories of being dragged to museums.

Abe cleared his mind and decided to take a look outside, do
a proper check, so big brother would sign his merit badge. He made his way
outside, checked the deserted parking lot and surrounding trees. So far so good.
He walked to the far corner of the building, thinking to make his way around
it, when a diseased stepped from behind a large oak and turned his milky eyes
on Abe.

Abe, stunned to be this close to a diseased, didn't react
quickly. Rifle in hand, he watched the diseased open its mouth and issue a loud
guttural sound that froze Abe's blood. Instinctively, Abe took a step back,
trying to get away from the walking horror. His rifle lay forgotten in his arms.
He began to shut down his fear, when something grabbed his shoulder and pulled
him to the ground.

Abe landed on his back, another diseased standing over him,
reaching down with a hand missing three of its fingers. A low, gravelly cry
came from the pajama wearing man. His throat, mostly gone, leaked crimson
blood, covering his night attire. Droplets of blood and skin flopped back and
forth from the man as he bent over Abe.

Abe cried out in surprise at the nightmare standing over him,
and rolled over to escape the falling man. He made it two rolls before the
diseased man caught him by the shirt. Just needing to get away, Abe Jumped off
the ground, his heart beating like a drum in the hands of a crazed Jamaican. He
jerked away from the diseased and tried to kick the pajama man. The kick,
poorly aimed, took the man in the thigh and caused him to stumble back. Abe
raised his rifle to shoot the man, when the first diseased joined their party.

Having forgotten about the first diseased he’d seen, Abe
was lucky to still be alive. Only the slow speed of the man and a parking block
saved him. The creature stumbled, giving Abe enough time to shoot the stumbling
diseased. The shots, wild and barely on target, hit the man across his torso in
multiple places. He didn't stop. Mind focused now, Abe noticed red patches
appear through the second man's white tank top. Not to be deterred, Abe kept
unloading his thirty round magazine into the stumbling target.

With rounds flying in every direction, one finally made
impact with its brain, snapping his head back and ending him. Abe jerked his
head around to locate the other one, afraid it was right behind him. Instead,
he found his brother pulling a short, straight sword out of the head of the
unmoving diseased.

"Bloody hell, now we know who used all those bullets,
don't we?" said Edmund, who also held a sword, although much longer and
slightly curved.

Abe, in a mood to keep shooting something, turned towards
the young Brit, thinking about using him for target practice.

"Kidding mate, kidding," said Edmund, placing his
hand up in surrender.

Kyle stepped closer to Abe, tapping him on the shoulder,
than snapping his fingers in front of Abe's face when he failed to get his
attention. "Abe, snap out of it, let's go."

Abe looked at his brother, who appeared completely normal,
as if he didn't just stick a sword in someone. His anger began to burn at the condescension,
before he began to think rationally and nodded his head in acceptance.

Kyle saw the difference in his brother, saw his panic start
to subside and took a breath he'd been holding. People have different reactions
to combat and Abe was just starting to experience that. Kyle wanted to help,
but since he couldn't, he hoped Abe would learn to control his panic. In the
meantime, he'd be there to watch out for him.

"Okay, I'll keep watch with Abe," Kyle said,
knowing they needed to get out of there. "There's probably more diseased around.
James and Edmund, can you grab the rest of the swords and anything else useful
in there?"

The two nodded and re-entered the building. Abe dropped the
magazine in his rifle and inserted a new one, then walked to the side of the
door. He kept his eyes on the parking lot and corners of the building, not
willing to be surprised again.

Five minutes later, Edmund walked out with the last of the
goods scavenged from the small museum. They'd found over 15 swords and
bayonets, along with a few boxes of coffee, six large water bottles and some
Debby snacks. James, already in the driver's seat, pointed to the back of the
truck. Edmund jumped in and they made their way back to the fort.