Zombie Rules (Book 3): ZFINITY (35 page)

There were only a couple of security lights working, so I had no problem hiding in the shadows as I walked. I only saw one other person, a Marine who suddenly rounded a corner about fifty feet away. He walked with squared shoulders, the way all Marines walked, but his head was down. He was either lost in his own thoughts or didn’t care who I was. He continued walking to wherever he was going and disappeared behind one of the buildings.

Bulldog’s hand drawn map was pretty accurate.  It directed me toward a particular guard tower with a note saying it was going to be unmanned on this night. I worked my way to the top of the wall and looked around. The sky was clear and the moon was in its waxing crescent phase. The scant ambient light limited my visibility to about twenty feet. Working my way through the concertina wire, I quietly dropped to the ground and slowly made my way through the layers of tangle-foot.

I tried to jog, but even though the socks were thick wool, they were not going to protect my feet very well from rocks or sharp objects, so I slowed to a hurried walk. After several twists and turns, I found one of the entrances to the base. The number at the top of the guard shack indicated it was gate six, and it led directly out to Fort Campbell Boulevard. It was blocked with a double wide stack of sandbags eight feet in height, but I had no problem crawling over them.

It looked like a war zone. Even in the dim light, I could see the burned rubble of retail businesses that once lined the roadway. There were numerous craters, presumably from mortar and artillery fire, and the corpses, there were hundreds of them. Obviously, they had no inclination to burn, or even bury the bodies. If I had a can of spray paint, I’d leave them with a list of my rules, just on general principal.

I headed north, the opposite direction of home, and got as far as the Walmart in Oak Grove when I heard the distant sound of a loud horn. I knew what it meant.

I would have liked to have gotten more of a head start before they discovered my escape, but it was going to have to do. I left the roadway, got my bearings with the North Star, and headed northeast through some crater infested farm land. It took approximately thirty minutes before I ran into Interstate 24.

I was going to assume that Colonel Coltrane figured out I knew we were at Fort Campbell. So, there were two routes for me to get back to Nashville; I-24 and the old state highway 41. I chose I-24, but I wasn’t fooling myself. It wouldn’t be long before search parties would be driving down the Interstate, looking for me.

My goal was to get as far away as possible before sunrise and then find a place to hide. I was under no illusions. Solonowski may not have been well liked, but his comrades were not going to have much sympathy for someone who killed one of their fellow marines.

I’m not sure how far I got before I saw headlights approaching from a distance. It wasn’t going to be a matter of hiding in an abandoned car or crouching down in a ditch, I had no doubt they had night vision gear, and probably even thermal imaging equipment. I quickly hopped the fence on the side of the Interstate, groaning as I did so. My ribs were hurting and I was wondering if Solonowski had broken one or two of them.

Jogging through an overgrown cornfield, I stumbled and fell into a shallow ditch. Catching my breath, I looked around worriedly. Nobody was around and I don’t think I made too much noise. It seemed to be a good spot to stop and hide. I only hoped this was an area bereft of zombies.

Three vehicles drove down the Interstate very slowly. Two of them were using searchlights, but I still believed they were also using other equipment. If I were in charge, I’d have one of my soldiers looking toward the rear with a thermal imaging scope in anticipation of the escapee making his move after the search vehicles had driven by.

I stayed down in the ditch until they were long out of sight. Heading back toward the Interstate, it suddenly occurred to me they could simply drive down the road for a mile or two, and then simply shut off their vehicles and wait for my dumbass to walk up to them.

So, I backed away from the Interstate, sat in the weeds, and thought about what to do next. I opted to go back to the ditch, certain they would grow impatient after a few hours of unsuccessful searching, and head back home.

At some point during the night, I drifted off to sleep, but was awakened as the sun was coming up, along with the usual swarm of flies competing to fly into my nose and mouth. I swatted them away as I stood and stretched, but quickly hit the ground again when I heard vehicles coming back down the Interstate. Low crawling until I was about a hundred feet from the Interstate, I raised my head cautiously for a look-see. It appeared to be the same Humvees from last night, and I assumed they were heading back to the base. I hugged the ground and remained motionless as I listened to the sound of the engines slowly fade.

When I couldn’t hear them anymore, I counted to a hundred before standing and carefully making my way back to the Interstate. I chose the westbound lane to make my way back to Nashville. I figured the mindset of the soldiers would be to search the eastbound lane, since that was the direction I was going to be travelling.

As I walked, I continuously scanned for any possible threats; soldiers, zombies, wild animals, and of course, hostile civilians. I don’t know why, but it amazed me how many weeds were growing through cracks in the asphalt. Mother Nature was slowly but steadily reclaiming her territory.

It took about a mile before encountering a zombie. He was like the other ones we’d encountered lately; jet black eyes and most of the decomposition was now healed over with layers of scar tissue. He was ugly as hell and was moving pretty good. I sidestepped him when he charged, tackled him from behind, and bashed his head against the asphalt until his skull was crushed.

If anyone saw this fresh kill, I’m sure they’d realize I’d done it, so I drug the body off the roadway and hid him amongst the tall weeds. There was a sizeable patch of black ooze on the asphalt, but I could do nothing about it. If they found it, they found it.

I kept looking at the abandoned cars as I walked, looking for anything I could use. The cars had been ransacked, almost every one of them. I kept seeing the hoods partially open and wondered what that was all about. I checked a couple and observed the batteries missing. Interesting, I thought. Someone knew that car batteries still had power, even if they didn’t have enough amperage to crank a car. They could be used for a host of things.

It wasn’t until my socks were in tatters that I happened upon a semi with skeletal remains hanging out of the open door. I didn’t think much about it until I saw a nice pair of black boots on his feet. Hurrying over, I scrutinized them closely. Size eleven. They’d have to do. I carefully got into the truck. Discovering no zombies, I searched it thoroughly. The trucker’s clothes, underwear, tee shirts, socks, and bib overalls, were all neatly folded and lying undisturbed in the compartment under the bed. He sure liked his overalls. Hell, it was all he had. Well, I had no options at the moment. I discarded my ooze infested clothes and changed. The tee shirt was fine, but as you can imagine, the leg length of the overalls was too short and the waistline was too big. I looked foolish, but at least I didn’t smell like a zombie.

Unfortunately, he had no other shoes other than the pair of boots currently occupying what remained of his rotting feet. Carefully working the boots off, I shook out the rest of his feet before trying them on. They were wide enough, but far too tight for any long distance walking, so I made room by cutting the toes out with Solonowski’s pocket knife. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it was the best I could hope for until I found some that fit.

I tried to start the truck, but the battery was dead and it was probably out of fuel anyway. I searched in vain for a firearm. I thought all truckers carried one, but this guy apparently didn’t. The only thing I found of value was a pair of bifocals, an old bottle of water, a pack of Red Man chewing tobacco, and a bandanna stuffed in his back pocket that was overwhelmed with dried snot and boogers. I took it anyway. Hell, if nothing else, I could use it to wipe my ass.

The chewing tobacco was bone dry, but it didn’t matter. I was counting on the nicotine to suppress my appetite and keep me awake. I then took a tentative swallow of the water. It had a distinctive plastic taste, no doubt of the antimony and BPA that had leached out of the plastic, but it wasn’t too bad. It was probably going to upset my stomach, but my thirst overrode caution and I took a couple of big swallows. Biting off a plug of tobacco, I looked around and started walking.

“Well, let’s see, sixty miles to Nashville, figure out a way around the flooded areas, and then an easy fifteen miles back to the house, piece of cake,” I said with mock cheerfulness.

“Shit,” I muttered. My first day of freedom consisted of a lot of walking while constantly looking over my shoulder, and, I did a lot of hiding. I only saw the soldiers once, but I was constantly running into zombies.

I achieved about two miles on the night of my escape and about ten miles of progress on the next day. When the sun was getting low, I spotted an old barn a couple of hundred yards off the Interstate. It looked abandoned and I thought it’d be a good place to hide in for the night. My stomach groaned in protest as I made my way through the overgrown field. My mouth was parched too. I had a couple of ounces of water left and only took a sip after I made it to the barn.

“Shit,” I muttered again as I looked out of the loft opening. I had a nice view of the area, which allowed me to see around a dozen zombies wandering around. Hunting for water and starting a fire was a no-go.

The barn was full of field mice and smelled of excrement and moldy hay. That was the bad part, but I lucked up and found a machete. It was rusty and not very sharp, but it was a weapon nonetheless.

I used my bootlaces to set up some snares immediately outside of the barn. If I caught anything, it’d probably only be a rodent, but eating a dead rat was far better than starving, and I was desperate.

There was surprisingly quite a bit of hay left in the loft, although it was pretty rotten. It’d have to do. I gathered it around me and settled back as the sun set behind the horizon. I’d had gone without food and any appreciable sleep since my escape and the fatigue was catching up with me. I lay there, listening to the sound of crows cawing, thinking things over.

The whole situation was stressing me more than anything else had previously. As I walked along the Interstate, I gauged my progress by the mile markers. It wasn’t much, only twelve miles. If I didn’t have to stop and hide so often, it would have been considerably more. I passed by several subdivisions, but I didn’t dare stop. I worried about going in them and searching houses. If I happened upon any survivors, I had no idea how they would react. They might welcome me or try to kill me. We were still fairly close to Fort Campbell, so it was entirely possible word of my escape had been spread and a reward was being offered for my capture. I wouldn’t put it past Coltrane to do something like that.

If my own predicament wasn’t bad enough, I was worried to death about my friends and family, and my kids. I worried for my kids most of all. Had the marines done anything to them? What about Felix, did anyone know of his betrayal? Sergeant Smithson had told me the story. When the Colonel and Major decided to come get me, they happened upon Felix and his friends. After some discussion, they agreed to set me up for a pathetic payoff of food and ammunition. It hurt me deeply that a person I considered a close friend had done this to me.

I dozed off somewhere at that point, but was awakened by voices. Spanish voices. It was dark out now, and although I couldn’t see them, I could see the glow of their flashlights as they shone them around.

I know only a few words of Spanish, but during the dialogue I heard the words hombre extraño and aquí. Back in high school, I was going to take some Spanish classes, but I thought the teacher was a pretentious asshole. I was regretting it now, but I got the gist of the conversation. Someone had seen me walk into the barn. The fact that they were waving their flashlights around meant they were either very stupid or they were armed and not worried about attracting attention. I watched as they made their way into the barn now, while continuously waving their flashlights around. One of them focused their beam up at the loft.

“Hello?” A man’s voice with a distinctive accent hailed. I had no intention of answering. Instead, I remained motionless and gripped the machete tightly. There was a hushed conversation in Spanish, followed by another hail. The ladder to the loft began to creak as someone started to climb it. Suddenly, the man cried out in alarm and fired a shot.

“Zombies!” a young boy’s voice cried out. There were several gunshots then, followed by more panicked shouting. I couldn’t stand it any longer so I dug myself out of the hay and peered over the rail of the loft to the barn floor. The flashlights were now lying on the ground, casting an eerie pallor inside the barn. There was a man, a young boy, and several zombies. They had apparently run out of ammunition, because now they were swinging their rifles wildly as the things swarmed them.

I couldn’t help myself. Without thinking, I launched myself over the railing onto a zombie who was within inches of biting the little kid. I cleaved the thing’s head with such a force that the machete stuck in the skull. When it fell to the ground, I had to stand on it and use both hands to work it free. The little boy looked at me in shock as I swung it in an arc and buried it in the side of another zombie’s head. Once again, I had to pull hard to work it free. I looked and saw the man stomping on the head of one, but there was another one coming up behind him.

“Look out!” I shouted and ran toward him. The look on his face seemed to indicate he thought I was aiming at him. Before he could do anything, I pushed him aside and sank the blade deep into the side of the last zombie’s neck. It didn’t quite kill it, so I gave him another whack on the opposite side of the neck, successfully decapitating him.

There was a time not so long ago when I could keep this up all night, but I was spent and breathing heavily. Backing up, I reached down and grabbed one of the flashlights before resting against the barn’s wall. The man eyed me and reached for his son.

“Gracias,” he said while putting a protective arm around the boy. He appeared to be in his thirties. His jet black hair was greasy, but combed and pulled back in a ponytail. I guessed his height at a few inches less than six feet and he was as skinny as a rail. His son didn’t look any older than nine or ten and even skinnier than his father.

“Sure,” I replied, “no problem. I’m afraid I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Is not a problem, señor. My name is Jose and this is my son, Christian.”

“I’m – Terry. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“May I ask why you are here?” he asked. I thought about it carefully before answering.

“I’m only passing through,” I responded. “If this is your barn, I apologize for trespassing. I only needed a place to sleep for the night.”

Christian spoke to his father in rapid Spanish. I absently adjusted the grip on my machete. Jose noticed it and hushed his son. He eyed me for several seconds before seeming to come to a decision.

“You can stay the night, but you must leave before sunrise.” He looked out of the open barn door. “They are looking for you and there are people, people who are my friends, who will tell them about you.”

“I understand, and thank you.”

He nodded and gestured toward the flashlight.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to hang on to this,” I said. He thought about it and nodded. He pushed his son toward the barn door and turned back before exiting.

“If I see you again, I will act like I have never met you.” He turned and the two of them walked into the night without waiting for my response.

Jose seemed sincere, but even so, I waited until I was sure they were gone, gathered my bootlaces, and headed out in the dark.