Zombie Rules (33 page)

             
“Don’t worry about him. He’s hell on wheels with those guns. Let’s go inside and try the radio.” I had other things in mind as well, but suddenly remembered what she had told me yesterday. Mother Nature was paying her a visit.

             
“Maybe, after lunch, we can share a nice hot bath.” I suggested.

             
She looked at me mischievously. “That would be really nice.”

              “You sir, have caused me pernicious consternation.” Fred looked around slowly. There was an old man standing in the pouring rain beside the jackknifed semi. He was aiming a double barrel shotgun at Fred.

             
“The hell you say.” Fred replied as he sized up his current adversary. The man was much older than Fred. Maybe in his late sixties or even late seventies, it was hard to tell. He was wiry, stoop shouldered, wearing thick glasses, bib overalls, long johns, and a hound’s tooth fedora, just like Bear Bryant used to wear. His beard was snow white and unkempt. His GQish ensemble was complemented by a pair of bright orange Keds hi-tops. Fred knew he could draw and shoot him before the old man could pull the trigger on the old shotgun, but he waited.

             
The old man chuckled. “You have indeed, you have indeed. You killed my women.” He motioned with his shotgun toward the car.

             
“Do you mean those two girls who had turned into zombies?”

             
“Those are the ones. They were my women. I came here every day and fed them. They were not related to me mind you, I was courting them. Courting them like a proper gentleman. You killed them. A dastardly deed sir, a dastardly deed.”

             
Fred looked him over and realized he was serious, as in seriously crazy. Crazier than an outhouse rat type of crazy. Fred had an uncle much like him, and so was no stranger in dealing with old crazy men. “Did they ever thank you?”

             
The old man scrunched up his face. “Are you mocking me sir? I’ll kill ya’ if you’re mocking me.”

             
“Not at all. If the ladies were ungrateful toward your generosity, the way I see it I did you a tremendous favor.” Fred held up his left hand passively and casually let his right hand drift closer to his pistol. “An ungrateful woman is the most horrendous indignity any man should suffer.”

             
The old man was now downright confused. He jutted his head forward, as if moving his eyes two inches closer would reveal a heretofore unobserved detail. “You are perplexing me sir. Perplexing me. May I have the wisdom of knowing your name?”

             
“It’s Fred, Fred McCoy. I live just a short stretch from here.” Fred’s concern was increasing. This old man was very odd, perhaps even insane, but he decided to play along. “May I too have the wisdom of knowing your name?”

             
The old man suddenly lowered the shotgun and walked toward Fred with an outstretched hand. “The name is Bernie Best. Everyone calls me Bernie the Beekeeper. I’m an apiarist. Do you know what that is?”

             
Fred’s stare was nondescript. “Would it have something to do with beekeeping?”

             
Bernie cackled. “You are of deep conjugation sir, deep conjugation. I can see now that you are worthy of continued life.”

             
“Does this mean you’re not going to shoot me?” Fred asked wryly.

             
Bernie shook his head vigorously. So hard, that his glasses were tossed askew. He carefully readjusted them and focused on Fred.

             
“You want some honey? I got some good honey. The best in the world.” Before Fred could answer, Bernie fast stepped back to the front of the truck and disappeared for a moment. Fred held his hand at the ready, just above his pistol. Bernie reappeared and walked back toward Fred. He moved quickly for an old man. He was carrying an old canvas knapsack and retrieved a mason jar from it.

             
“This is superior clover honey Fred McCoy. Very healthy. If you digest a couple of tablespoons a day, you will never suffer from hemorrhoids, dropsy, or constipation.” He tapped his chest vigorously. “I’m living proof.” He cackled again.

             
“That is very generous of you Bernie.” Fred reached for the jar of honey. Bernie jerked back.

             
“Sir, you have not opened the vestibule of barter.” Fred looked at him. Now he was thoroughly confused. Bernie helped him out. “A trade sir, we must trade. A trade is the epitome of good business!”

             
Fred stood there and stared at crazy Bernie. He was very tempted to get in his truck and leave him, but in the back of his mind he kept hearing what Zach had talked about. We needed to meet other survivors and connect with them, he’d say. Besides, the honey did look delicious.

             
Fred cleared his throat. “Please accept my apologies for the oversight. As you pointed out, an open vestibule is the proper course of action, and I have been remiss. Bernie I must confess, I’ve not come prepared for barter. I don’t have much.” Fred stopped when Bernie suddenly turned and walked stoop shouldered over to Fred’s truck.

             
Bernie pointed into the bed of the truck. “You sir are not beguiling me, no sir not at all. You have items of barter here before my very eyes!”

             
Fred walked over somewhat tentatively. He looked in the bed of his truck at what Bernie was pointing at. “You want those girls’ suitcases?”

             
Bernie looked at his Keds and responded abashedly. “You are wise and sagacious Fred McCoy. I am being overly greedy. Avarice, a sin that will surely kill if one is not duly chaste.” Bernie removed his hat and appeared to say a silent prayer. He put his hat back onto his head before continuing.

             
“If I may inspect the inventory of said suitcases, perhaps we can come to an equitable agreement.” Fred grunted, reached over and opened one of the suitcases. Bernie fumbled around with the contents and made various oohs and ahhs. He came up with a pair of women’s underwear. Fred had not noticed until Bernie held up the panties, but at least one of those girls was a large woman, at least a size fourteen. Bernie held up the panties in front of him and suddenly began sniffing the crotch. There was a look of pure bliss on his face.

             
“Bernie, if that pair of, uh, scented panties is not worth a jar of honey, I am at a loss as to what would be.”

             
Bernie readily nodded. “Divine words Fred McCoy, divine words. I agree to your terms, a jar of honey for a delicious scent of heaven.”

             
In another life Fred would have emitted a rip roaring laugh. On this occasion he stared at Bernie without emotion. “Bernie, let’s sweeten the pot.” Fred hoped Bernie missed the pun. “How about all of the panties in both suitcases for your knapsack of honey?” He eyed Bernie. “I just bet there are more undergarments hiding in there for your olfactory pleasure.”

             
Bernie gasped and looked at Fred in wonder. Once he had gathered his senses he stepped toward Fred. “A commitment of this magnitude should be consummated in a formal handshake Fred McCoy, a formal handshake.”

              “So you’re saying he’s loco.” I asked.

             
“Oh yeah. But the honey is good.” Fred had regaled us with the story of his encounter of Bernie the Beekeeper over breakfast. “Amazingly, he’s connected with other people in the area and trades his honey for food and other things.”

             
“Like women’s soiled panties.” Julie chimed in. We all laughed. Well, Fred smiled. Barely.

             
“You know, my mother-in-law worked with a young nurse. Pretty thing. She had a website where she would advertise used panties for sale. She had pictures of her wearing them and the customer would choose which pair to buy. Apparently, she made a lot of money doing it.”

             
Julie chimed in. “Bernie was probably her best customer.” I laughed some more. She was full of herself this morning.

             
“Even so, we can benefit from his beekeeping skills. An apiary in the fields will be very good for the crops.” I looked at them mischievously. “The art of beekeeping goes back to ancient Egypt. There are hieroglyphs depicting bees and beekeepers dating back to 2400 B.C. The main center of beekeeping was in southern Egypt. Many of their methods are still in use…”

             
Julie cut me off with a punch in the arm.

             
Fred continued as if he did not notice. “I agree, but I’d worry about him coming into contact with Julie.”

             
“I agree as well. We’ll make sure he’s not alone with her.” I said.

             
“Hey, I can take care of myself.”

             
“Of course you can, but you’d shoot him if he tried anything. I’d rather you didn’t.” Julie frowned but reluctantly agreed.

             
After breakfast, Fred and I went out on the farm where we believed the coyotes were living and set traps. It was agreed the coyote problem needed to be eliminated as quickly as possible. “Bernie swears he knows a man who’ll take any coyote pelts we have. He knows of another man who is an auto mechanic. He’s set up in a Goodyear tire shop on Nolensville Pike. They all have a bartering system going.”

             
I chuckled as I helped Fred place some raw meat on the trip lever and set the trap. “Isn’t it ironic that a crazy old man has managed to establish a trade network? I talked endlessly about doing something like that and never even got off to a good start. It just goes to show you.” Fred looked at me. “Well it’s obvious. You can attract more flies with honey.”

Fred snorted at my pun, which was his equivalent to laughing hysterically.
“Or soiled panties.” He uttered. I laughed. Fred was hilarious.

             
We were in Rick’s truck. Fred had an older cow which had not fared well over the winter. We talked it over, and a couple of days ago killed and butchered her. We now had several choice cuts of meat sorted out in five different coolers. Our first stop was the auto mechanic at the Goodyear store. Unfortunately, the place was locked down tight and nobody seemed to be home. The man had welded various pieces of scrap steel and made security bars across the windows and doors.

             
“What do we do now?” Julie asked.

             
“Not much.” Fred responded. “We can leave a note I suppose.” I agreed. I wrote out a brief but detailed note. I mentioned Bernie, hoping they would not equate us with Bernie’s craziness, and summed up who we were. I stuck it through a gap in the steel bars and then we were on our way to the National Guard on Sidco Drive. We had plenty of steaks. Hopefully, they had some good stuff to trade. Julie had been antsy all morning and was looking for to seeing her brother.

             
We never got there.             

              We had driven along Nolensville Pike toward downtown Nashville. There were only a scattering of abandoned or wrecked cars. “It looks like someone has been busy.” I commented.

             
Julie was looking out and pointed. “Yeah, look at the street, there are drag marks in the asphalt. Someone moved a car out of the way.” I pointed out the open gas cap. It appeared someone had also been siphoning gas. As we approached the Thompson Lane intersection we saw more evidence of activity. They had the intersection completely blocked with wrecked automobiles. It was not a small intersection. Each roadway was five-lanes wide. The wrecked and abandoned autos had been pushed together and some were even stacked on top of each other. The result was a complete roadblock with the exception of one narrow opening just wide enough for a vehicle to drive through.

             
We stopped about two hundred yards away. Fred retrieved the binoculars and scanned it out. “I believe I see the corporal we met a few weeks ago and a few of his fellow soldiers.”

             
“Well, that’s who we came to see. May as well drive up and say hello.”

             
“I don’t like it.” Fred opined.

             
“Me either.” Julie said. “Something’s fishy. It looks like a trap.”

             
“Okay, I agree. You two get out of the truck and find cover. I’ll drive on up and check it out. I’ll have the walkie handy, but don’t forget the hand signals. If anything goes wrong, bug out to the Goodyear store. I’ll make it back there eventually.” They started to get out. “Fred…” He glanced back. “Just in case, better take the bug-out bag.” He nodded.

             
After waiting a minute, I drove up to the roadblock. I heard Fred on the radio as I approached. “They’ve been watching with binoculars, they most likely know we’ve gotten out of the truck. Two of them have taken up flanking positions.” I acknowledged with a click. Corporal Hart was standing there in front of the roadblock when I drove up. He was holding an M-4 assault rifle casually. So were the other men. I counted three including Hart. Dawson and True were not among them. The count did not include the two Fred warned me about. So, there were five we knew about and now two of them were unaccounted for.

             
“Well hello Leon, how are you?” I said.

             
He smiled without warmth. “Why it is none other than Zach.” He looked at his friends. “Men, it is our lucky day!” They laughed, and I don’t think it was a friendly laugh. “How have you been Zach? Where’s Julie and the old man?”

             
I motioned behind me. I also gave a hand signal. Like Julie said, something was fishy. “They jumped out of the truck back there somewhere.”

             
“Now why did they do something like that? That’s downright unfriendly.”

             
I feigned indifference. “Oh, they’ll be along shortly. They wanted to have a look around. What’s with the roadblock?”

             
“We have roadblocks strategically placed at intersections surrounding Houston Barracks.”

             
I nodded. “That’s smart thinking. I’ve got the feeling you’re the brains behind it.”

             
“You got that right little buddy. We’re taking over this place, doing it the right way this time. Say buddy, did you bring any steaks with you?”

             
I nodded. “I did. You got a grill out here? You guys can cook some up for dinner.”

             
“That sounds wonderful buddy. How many did you bring?”

             
I chuckled. “Well, it depends on what you have to trade for.” A moment of anger flashed across his face, then it was gone and he chuckled halfheartedly. I casually scratched my head and gave another hand signal. “Relax buddy, I’ll give you guys a few just for having to man this roadblock. Is the Lieutenant back at headquarters? I’d like to talk to him.”

             
This time his smile was genuine. I knew this because he was showing all of his yellow teeth. “Ain’t got no Lieutenant anymore buddy. I’m in charge now.”

             
There was something wrong here, and I’m not referring to Leon’s teeth or his butchering of the English language. “Oh? What happened to him?”

             
“Let’s just say he expired of lead poisoning.” This got a laugh from one of the other soldiers.

             
“Ah, well. Some people are prone to that I suppose.” I was treading on thin ice. It was a good bet Leon was deciding on whether or not to shoot me. I gave a casual shrug. “Oh well, shit happens I guess. Let me get those steaks for you guys, then you can tell me all about it.”

             
“Why sure buddy. And while you’re at it, why don’t you get on your little radio there and invite Julie to come on down and join us.” Yeah, right.

             
“Okay, sure buddy.” I retrieved my walkie-talkie from my tactical vest. “Hello, Julie?”

“Go ahead.” She said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Why don’t you come on down and join me with Corporal Hart and his pals. You’re going to be surprised, he’s in charge now.”

             
There was a long moment of silence before Julie responded. “That’s wonderful! I knew he’d get promoted. Tell him we’re doing a little scavenging and then we’ll be right there. Oh hey, tell him to get my mother and brother. We’ve found some good stuff. We’ll have a surprise for everyone.”

             
The word ‘surprise’ was our code word for danger. Julie acknowledged what I was telling her when she used the word as well. They both had rifles, Julie had an assault rifle, Fred had his bolt-action, which was a good sniper rifle. They were now probably waiting for me to either raise my hands in the air or go for my guns. Then the fireworks would begin. “Well you heard the woman Leon, she wants to see her mom and little brother. Do you think you could get on your little radio and call for them?”

             
He did not like it when I used the same condescending verbiage. His smile left his face. I kept my smile and turned to walk toward my truck. He followed me. “Where do you think you’re going?” He demanded.

             
I stopped at the back of my truck and lowered the tailgate. “I’m getting your boys some steaks.” There was a little bit of distance between us and the other soldiers now. I lowered my voice. “Leon, I’m sensing some underlying animosity here” I realized by the look on his face I was using words he did not understand. “Is there something wrong? Have we done something to piss you off?”

             
Corporal Leon Hart stared at me with flat eyes. Then he smiled again. “Only if you brought some bad steaks buddy. Let’s have a look.” I shrugged and opened one of the coolers. Leon whistled. “Hoo-boy, those look good.” I grabbed the cooler and carried it back to their makeshift command post. “Well don’t stop there buddy, get the rest of those coolers unloaded.”

             
I nodded and started walking back to my truck. Leon didn’t follow me this time, he was telling something to his men and they started laughing. I got the impression it was at my expense. I stopped and turned. “Oh, hey buddy?” Leon looked at me. “What do you have to trade for the rest of these steaks?”

             
Leon looked surprised. “Did you hear that guys? Young Zach here is wanting something in trade.” They laughed again. What a bunch of ass kissers. “You don’t understand. You’re giving us those steaks. All of them. Consider it a road tax.” He was about to say more, but was stopped by a radio transmission.

             
“We got her Corporal.” The soldier’s voice said. Leon grinned sadistically. The blood drained from my face.

             
“Did you hear that little buddy? My soldiers found pretty little Julie.” He retrieved his radio. “Where’s the old man? Did you get him?” Leon asked.

             
“That’s a negative. She said he got scared and ran off.” Came the response from the soldier.

             
Leon gripped the radio tightly as he spoke into it. “Bullshit, he’s still around. Bring her here, and tell Smitty to find the old man and kill him if he resists.” Leon looked at me and smiled again. He smiled too much. I didn’t like it. He pointed behind me. “Look, there they come.” I looked back. A soldier had Julie by the arm and was escorting her to us. I watched as Julie kept moving toward the center of the street. I casually side stepped a couple of feet away from Leon. That kept me out of Fred’s line of fire. I had full confidence in him. “So here’s how it is Zach. You’re going to get on your little radio and tell your friend to come join us. Oh, and if he has any weapons he’s going to give them up. Which reminds me,” He walked up and reached over to take my handgun out of the holster. I responded by knocking him on his ass. His face registered a pained expression of surprise. I think he was even more surprised when I was able to draw my gun out and point it at him before his buddies could react.

             
“Don’t even think about if fuckers! If any of you move, Leon here gets it between the eyes.” It sounded good, but it did not exactly go as planned. It seems as though they did not like Leon any more than they liked me.

              One of those damn soldiers shot me. He was not in the least bit swayed by the fact I was aiming a weapon at his fellow soldier. It sure didn’t work like the movies. The soldier who shot me, perhaps he did not think I would really shoot, or maybe he believed he would be able to kill me before I fired. Or maybe he did not care one way or another if I shot Leon.

             
Whatever his thought processes, he sealed the fate of Corporal Leon Hart.

             
I shot Leon twice before I fell to the ground. I think that I blacked out then. Maybe just a few seconds, maybe a minute, I was not sure. My next conscious thought was of a close up of asphalt and hearing the sound of frantic screaming along with multiple gunshots. I can’t say how, but I intuitively knew that they were no longer shooting at me.

             
I could hardly see, and my head was pounding. In addition, there was something warm running down my face. I reached up and tried to wipe my eyes. My hand came away warm and sticky. It definitely was not a good sign. I felt around. When it felt like I was digging a red hot iron rod into the side of my head, I realized that I found the gunshot wound. So, I’ve been shot in the head. No wonder I hurt so badly.

             
I forced myself to think. I had no idea why I was not dead. Maybe I was. Or maybe I was in the process of dying. I would have to figure it out later. I looked around and tried to determine what the hell all of the shooting was about. The problem, anything beyond a few feet was nothing more than a fuzzy blur. The only thing I could readily make out was Rick’s big red truck. It was right in front of me, I think.

             
Slowly, painfully, I worked myself onto all fours. It seemed to take forever. I reached out and made contact. A little voice told me it was the front bumper. The gunshots continued at an intense fury, along with a lot of panicked yelling, but I did not feel anything hitting me. Maybe I was bullet proof.

             
No matter, my inner voice was telling me to get the hell out of there. I worked my way down the side of the truck. Somehow I got the door open, crawled inside, and shut the door behind me. I searched with my hands until I found something made of cloth. I grabbed it and gingerly held it to my head. The gunshots were growing fainter. At some point everything went black.

*****

              “I’m going to find a way to get up on the roof.” Fred whispered. He set the bug out bag on the ground. “You stay here and keep watch baby girl, I’ll cover Zach.” Julie nodded and watched as Fred disappeared behind a building. She was crouched down beside a car and watched with a small pair of binoculars. She could see Zach and Corporal Hart. Although she could not hear what was being said, the hand signal for caution was very clear. After a minute, she watched as Zach retrieved his radio and was startled when she heard Zach’s voice. Oh shit, she thought, I’ve got the volume up way too high. She fumbled with the volume knob and turned it down as she listened to Zach.

             
“Hello, Julie? Why don’t you come on down and join me with Corporal Hart and his soldiers. You’re going to be surprised, he’s in charge now.”

             
Surprise? Surprise meant danger. She took a deep breath. Don’t panic, she thought. She pushed the talk button and responded good-naturedly, repeating the code word to indicate she understood. She was anxious now. Julie stood and turned to go find Fred. Instead, she was stunned to see a soldier standing behind her. He had his assault rifle pointed at her and an unfriendly smirk on his face.

             
Fred listened in silence to the radio conversations. He heard Zach use the code word. It was his idea. Fred realized he probably never would have thought of setting up code words and hand signals. He was sitting in the middle of the roof, and had started to sight in on the Corporal when he heard the second radio conversation. He froze in position, silently cussing at himself. He should have anticipated something like this, he thought. So, they had Julie. Fred figured one of them was going to keep guard on Julie and the other soldier was going to keep hunting for him.