Zomb-Pocalypse 3 (10 page)

Chapter Nine

I’m up early, too
excited to sleep the day away. This is the first day I’ve parentally been
allowed out of the house. I check the clock on the wall and decide that 7:00 AM
isn’t too early to wake up the other girls. I shake Megan and Abby awake, but
whisper so we won’t wake up Sunny. She doesn’t have a chore list a mile long to
complete, and I know she will be upset that we are leaving—it’s better if she’s
asleep when we head out.

We all get ready
quickly and quietly, moving through the bedroom and throwing on multiple layers
of clothing like wraiths. I stop just long enough to pull the blanket up higher
to cover Sunny, and then the three of us are pounding down the stairs.

"Morning
girls." Abby, Megan, and I stop in our tracks, seeing everyone but Sunny
and Barry already gathered in the living room. I feel a little deflated. I'd
felt special, like a real grown up getting up early for work all on my own.

"Morning,"
Megan replies for us when Abby and I remain silent and gape. Obviously, Abby
feels the same way I do. Everyone is gathered around the table with coffee and
breakfast. I eyeball the table, a long scarred up piece with antique chairs
that used to be in the dining room.

"Nice
table," I say as I step forward and grab myself a cup of coffee. I'm not
really a coffee drinker, but it's hot and I'm cold, and I could use the boost
of energy.

"It was
Chad's idea," Mom beams. "We eat every meal in here because it's
warmer by the fire—it just makes sense." She grins like it’s the best
invention since sliced bread.

"I was just
tired of sitting on the floor," Regg says, brushing off the compliment,
and I smile. I can already see he's going to be the perfect leader. We've been
eating in the living room for a week now—Abby, Megan, and my parents for even
longer than that– but no one ever saw it as permanent, so no one ever took
steps to make it easier before now. Regg is thinking long term.

I sit down at the
table, glad I'm no longer designated to the floor, and grab a huge stack of
pancakes. We picked up a whole bunch of pre-made mix and syrup the other day,
and it's amazing to eat something so normal and delicious. My breakfast is
usually something out of a can, or cereal without milk—it's just like before
the zombies came and messed everything up.

"Are you
ready for your first day of work?" my dad asks us, and all three of us
girls nod eagerly. We are a little bit nervous to be going out there, but we
haven't seen much zombie activity up here on the mountain. So as far as job
descriptions go, lumber jack is one of the safest. We're also eager to finally
get out of the cabin. My mom has kept a pretty tight leash on all of us, and
we've developed a pretty severe case of cabin fever, especially Abby and Megan,
who've been here a lot longer than I have.

"You guys
will be great," Regg says as he finishes his pancakes and pushes his plate
away. "Today you'll just be taking it easy and learning how to use the
equipment." My face falls a bit at his words. I don't want to take it
easy, I want to get out there and work—do something useful for a change.
"We don't have a supply run scheduled until we can make a better plan, so
your dad will be out there with you today." Regg turns to everyone else.
"Silas, if you could try and find some fresh game. Ryan and I are going down
the mountain to that little store at the bottom of the hill. I want to find a
map and whatever supplies we can, but I'm guessing it will be pretty picked
over with the other families living up here as well."

"Do you think
we should meet them?" Megan asks, "The people in the other
cabins." Regg and my dad look at each other with clear worry etched into
their faces.

"We will
eventually. They are probably doing the same thing as us right now, trying to
stockpile to survive the winter," Regg pauses. "The problem is, if we
get too friendly we might end up feeling responsible for them, and if they
don't have proper provisions for winter..." Regg pauses, trying to think
of a diplomatic way to say what he needs to say.

"It will
strain our resources," Silas finishes for him, and Regg nods.

“Exactly.”

"So
what?" Abby says surprising everyone. "Maybe some of them are women
and children that don't have a skilled hunter or an army guy." A tear
leaks down her cheek. "Maybe we should just help them because it's the
right thing to do." My mom reaches over and pats Abby on the arm, and I
feel a surge of guilt. Abby has still managed to hold onto her humanity and I'm
not sure how she did it.

I want to feel for
the others, but they are strangers and I'm kind of with Regg and Silas. We need
to make sure our own are taken care of first, and if I’ve learned anything
about strangers lately, it’s that most of them can’t be trusted. The one’s you
can trust—you just shouldn’t get attached to because most people don’t last
long anymore. I bite my lip and push away my plate. I used to be such a
humanitarian, collecting donations for earthquake victims in Haiti, the
residents of New Orleans after Katrina, heck, I’d even go spend time with the
animals down at the shelter once or twice a week. This is the first time I've
really thought about how I've changed, and I'm a little disturbed by the
adjustments in my basic human instincts

"Today we
need to be doing this," Regg continues, oblivious to my realizations about
the state of my soul. "You need the training, and to be taught what to
look for. We aren't always going to be here to help you—most days we will be on
supply runs, probably right up until the road gets impassable when it snows.
One of these days we will meet the neighbors, but today, we do this. Just
remember that our preparation now could help them this winter if we really need
to." His voice is kind but firm, and Abby doesn't argue further. I stare
at her suspiciously because I know her pretty well, and she is usually thinking
of some scheme when she gets uber quiet.

My dad might know
this too because he pushes his chair back and stands up. "Ready to get to
work girls?" he asks, and we all nod, eager to get out of here. My mom
hugs each of us and hands us a large grocery bag filled with water and granola
bars.

"Please be
careful," she begs us, and we all echo the same agreement. Dad hands us
each a pair of leather work gloves and a warm winter hat. Ryan comes over and
says goodbye, but Silas just sits at the table talking with Regg, though I
catch him staring at me.

“I wish I could
come with you,” Ryan says, and I give him a smile as I extract myself from his
hug.

“We will be fine,
I promise,” I tell him as I head out the door with a wave to my mom.

Our breath puffs
white in front of our faces, and the cold air stings the exposed skin.
"It's chilly this morning," my dad says cheerfully as he leads us
over to the pick-up, and we all climb in. I shiver as we wait for the truck to
heat up and start blasting some hot air. If this is fall on the mountain,
winter is really going to suck!

"So what's
the plan?" Megan asks, and I lean forward expectantly, eager to hear the
details.

"You'll need
to find spots well away from the other cabins. We don't want our neighbors to
think we're poaching their resources," my dad cautions. "Silas scoped
out a few areas and said there was a lot of deadfall if we follow this road
around the other side of the lake." My dad holds up a hand drawn map on a
piece of paper and I stare at it; it looks like chicken scratch, though I
assume the big glob in the middle is the lake.

We bump over the
dirt trail, and the cabins start to thin and disappear as the trees get
thicker. I count the signs of life at all the places we pass, but only about a
third of the places we see are occupied. Away from the cabins, the last
reminder of civilization falls away and the forest looks a little creepy and
dark—if I’m honest. I look over at Abby and can tell she's thinking the same
thing. Megan doesn’t seem too perturbed by anything and is staring out the
window intently.

Finally, my dad
stops and takes the truck out of gear and we all pile out. He leads us to the
side of the road, more like a goat trail really, and points to a big pile of
brush that is a mixture of large and smaller branches and even a few trees that
have rotted and fallen over. It looks like it's been sitting there a long time.
"This is ideal," my dad says as he bends down and starts picking
through the pile to show us. "This is called deadfall because it's already
on the ground, so it's easy access and it's had a chance to dry out and will be
great to burn."

Megan frowns.
"I thought we'd be chopping down trees," she complains, and I grin at
her. I'd thought the same thing.

My dad chuckles at
us. "You will be eventually, but we'll have a lot of time to get to that.
Right now we will focus on the easy stuff. Live trees won’t burn as well and
will have to be dried out. Believe, me you'll thank me later."

We walk back to
the truck and he lowers the tailgate, showing off four brand-new chainsaws
sitting in the back of the truck next to a jug of gas. "Where did those
come from?" I ask, and dad smiles.

"Barry picked
them up the other day in Wal-Mart—one good thing he actually did," he
jokes. There are axes too, in all different sizes, ranging from small hatchets
to serious lumberjack looking weapons with a spike on the end. I can't help
thinking how good a couple of these would be against the dead—then I can’t help
wondering if something is wrong with me that I automatically think about this
stuff? “It's important to understand that these tools are not toys," my
dad cautions like we’re a bunch of little kids on our first day of pre-school.
"If you cut yourself, there aren’t hospitals anymore, we don’t have a
doctor either.”

“Another reason to
meet the neighbors,” Abby can’t resist pointing out. “Maybe one of them is a
doctor.”

My dad smiles
patiently at her, but doesn’t acknowledge her idea either. It’s a moot point
right now in the middle of the forest. “So take your time and do it
right," my dad continues, picking up one of the chainsaws. He points out
all the important parts before demonstrating how to fire it up. All three of us
cover our ears when it roars to life, and my dad turns it off with a sigh.

He makes us each
try it until he’s confident we know what we’re doing. The roar of the saw is a
little bit terrifying, but also empowering. Dad makes the hand across the neck
sign for me to kill the engine, and I carefully turn it off.

“Perfect,” he
says, beaming at all three of us. “Now it’s time for a different kind of safety
lesson,” he says, making us all stare at him in curiosity. “We are pretty high
up the mountain, but as we found out the other day, the dead might still be
around.” His words make my stomach flutter in fear. “You will need to work in a
rotation at all times. Two girls will be chopping and stacking wood while the
third is on watch for the dead.” We all look at each other. “You can take turns
and pick how long you want each shift to last, that way you will all get a bit
of a rest from cutting and stacking.” My dad pauses and looks at us each in
turn. “Got it?” he asks, and we all nod.

“Got it,” Megan
says, and I mumble the same.

“When you’ve cut
the wood, it will need to be stacked in the back of the truck for transport to
the woodshed.” My dad looks at the back of the truck and frowns. There isn’t
that much space to stack wood with the large fuel tank taking up half of the
box. “I will talk to Chad about getting you guys a truck just for hauling
wood.”

We all grin at the
idea of getting our own truck, even if it is a work truck and we all have to
share it.

“Awesome,” I say,
and the other two girls agree.

“I knew you would
like that,” my dad says with a grin as he hands us each a chainsaw. “I’ll be
helping out with the wood cutting, but I want to see you girls working your
rotation like you would if I wasn’t here,” he says, and we do rock paper
scissors to see who takes the first shift zombie watching. Abby is chosen, and
she doesn’t seem all that upset that she will miss out on the opportunity to be
a lumberjack right away. We decide to switch watch every half an hour, that way
we will all get a bit of a break.

Soon, Abby is
walking the perimeter of our worksite, and Megan and I are firing up our
chainsaws. Dad hands us each a pair of sunglasses to protect our eyes from
flying wood, and then he wanders away and cuts wood off by himself to give us
some space to get comfortable with our routine.

We quickly learn
that this isn't the glamorous work we'd thought. It's hot, despite the freezing
temperatures, and its backbreaking work. I'm sweating like a pig. At the same
time, my nose is so numb from the cold that it won't stop running. The leather
gloves help to keep my hands warm, but they are bulky and I'm not used to them,
so it makes everything harder. More than once I look up and catch my dad
watching us with a worried look on his face—it makes me more determined to do
this. I could cry from relief when it's my turn to take Z watch. I’d lost the
second rock, paper, scissors, and Megan had taken the second watch. I circle
around the small perimeter of our work area like the other two girls did, but
after each circle, I make the perimeter a little bit bigger.