Chapter 6
Two years after my flight from Haven, I pulled my truck to a stop on the main street of a small town in the central valley. I climbed out, pistol in hand and looked around. It was clear left and right. I reached into the cab and grabbed my tote bag. As I walked down the street, I holstered my 9mm pistol and pulled my machete from its sheath with my right hand. One of the things that amazed me is how quickly things went back to the wild. I’ve seen programs on TV and read about the abandoned Aztec and Mayan cities that melted back into the jungle. It’s been less than three years since the Zombies overran the U.S., and saplings, bushes and vines are growing in cracks in the streets. If you are out late at night when it’s eerily quiet, you might catch a glimpse of a deer wandering the streets weaving through abandoned vehicles. I even saw a bear with a cub downtown in what had been a city of almost a million people last month.
Although the zombies will attack and eat anything, you rarely see Zombies eating wild animals. Most animals with their ability to seemingly smell danger let alone rotting Zombies make them difficult to catch. Only the injured, very young or old usually fall prey to Zombies. And they don't reanimate, I guess they don't get the infection
For the past two years I had travelled throughout the states and was still in somewhat of a state of shock over what I had learned. In the west, very large cities like Los Angeles really sucked. Imagine millions of Zombies. From the Mississippi river west you need to stay away from larger cities like Las Vegas, Denver, St. Louis, Oklahoma city, Huston, and Dallas.
Just about everywhere east of the Mississippi River were dead lands. The population density was just too high and with a (as far as I knew) 100% infection rate, way too many zombies. Unlike the stories in the books and movies, no cities were nuked to try and stop or contain the zombie outbreak. All of the effort was made just to survive, rather than worry about areas that were lost. Areas that were considered overrun were just abandoned. The military was in complete charge since the civilian government had gone to ground.
The president and his cabinet as well as most ranking senate and house members went into hiding in underground bunkers within the first 12 hours of the outbreak. "For the good of the country and to guarantee continuity of government.", announced the president. As it turned out they were right, about it being best for the country. Because these underground bunkers turned out to be death traps. All it took was for a family member of the political elite or a member of their staff to be infected and the whole facility could be turned or infected within hours. Anyone that escaped was ignored by the military that were armed and in control. But even the Military couldn’t stand against an enemy that had no fear and required complete destruction or a head shot to quit attacking.
During my travels throughout the last two years, I had found the large cities on west coast dangerous enough without crossing the Mississippi river. I never wandered there. I hate when I just have to venture into a medium sized city looking to scavenge supplies. You never know when a Zombie will lunge out of an open doorway or shadow shrouded alley intent on making you its next meal. At least it is getting rare to come across a recently turned Zombie. Because of the speed in which fresh Zombies move, they are very dangerous. Zombies are one tracked in their mindless attempt to bite or claw you. Normally, you could make short work of the slow ones because they never made defensive movements. But you had to keep your mouth and eyes protected from their body fluids, or you could be infected without being bitten. The infection by body fluids makes trusting the seemingly uninfected very tenuous
Most of the Zombies after this much time were slow shuffling dried up bags of bones. The dried up husk that were still walking around were much easier to kill. They were much more brittle than the stringy Zombies of the first few months. The slow ones always remind me of the old black and white mummy movies I watched on late night TV as a kid. You could easily slice through their brittle skin and bone. The only bodily fluids were stomach contents or a thick viscous fluid that used to be their blood, there was rarely any splattering blood. You could out run them just doing a brisk walk; you didn’t even have to run unless you were surrounded. Because their bite is always terminal, even slow Zombies were still deadly.
Zombies weren’t the only deadly things that can kill. You could just as easily be a cornered by a pack of wild dogs. The dog packs are dangerous because they, like their cousins, the wolves, have learned to work as a pack. These animals are fast, seem tireless, and attack with a coordinated group effort. Most of the wild dogs are medium sized dogs. The bigger ones ate the little ones and the really large ones couldn't get sufficient food to stay alive. If a dog pack picks up your scent, they will track you until they find you. I was cornered in a grocery store once. I was strolling up the canned foods aisle when I heard the first growl. I saw they were at both ends of the aisle and were slinking toward me. I climbed onto a storage rack and had to kill eight of them before I finally killed their alpha and they gave up the fight.
The absolute most dangerous of all are living human survivors. They are both cunning and calculating. They will lay traps and will just kill anything and everything. Although there were early rumors of cannibalism, getting eaten isn’t the primary reason I had learned to avoid them. They would kill you for anything you might have. They would kill you out of fear, and a few just liked to kill. When you come across a survivor enclave you can usually trade for things. But if you came across singles or groups in the field it was best to avoid them if possible. At their home base they felt somewhat safe and secure and you could negotiate and trade with calmer individuals. Because of the chance you might be infected by body fluids you are rarely allowed to stay for long and always kept isolated. But out in the wilds everyone is usually jumpy and a little trigger happy. You are usually dealing with reckless individuals or more aggressive personality types.
Speaking of food, most of the grocery stores were looted by survivors long ago. Before the Zombie plague, I just thought I hated going shopping. But one has to eat, so there were those times when I had to get up off my butt and go to the super market. There would be long lines and jerks on cell phones blocking the aisles. Kids running amuck, knocking displays over and opening bags of candy. Oh, for those good old days. Now, I really know what hating shopping means. These days you have to loot individual homes for food and even there the pickings are getting sparse.
A shopping trip today means possibly entering a home where a Zombie homeowner could spring out of nowhere and bite you as you perused the can goods. There is always a possibility of a Zombie and his Zombie family cornering you in a back bedroom, or getting you in a pickle in the hallway. So many bad ways to get killed, but I can’t think of many good ways either. I guess I really do miss the long checkout lines and rude people. But you know what they say "A mans gotta do what a man's gotta do". Or like my little sister always said, "Sometimes you’ve gotta suck it up and be a man". So I’m going shopping.
You can’t go far without fuel, so that was my first stop. I pulled up next to the filler neck for the under ground gas tanks. I jumped out of my truck, grabbed my bolt cutters and took care of the lock. I removed the cap then fed my hose down into the tank. I pulled the hose back up so that I could see if the tank had plenty of diesel in it. As I finished connecting the hose to my electric pump, I spotted the Zombie shambling around the corner of the building. As the Zombie approached, I pulled the loop holding the revolver from around my neck. Taking aim, I put one round into his head at 10 feet. The popping sound told me the homemade silencer worked. It didn’t catch fire this time either. I was so proud. The soup can sized silencer duct taped to the barrel required I wear the S&W .38 attached to a cord around my neck since I could no longer holster it. But it was quieter than before and probably wouldn’t draw any more infected or zombies my way.
After two and a half a years of the Zombie plague the only bright spot was that you rarely encountered any of the ‘live’ Zombies nowadays. Most of them had joined
the ranks of ‘dead’ Zombies they were slow methodical moving characters. They were still deadly if they bit or scratched you, but they were easy to dodge or outrun. Even if you encountered a large group of them you were safe as long as you didn’t get cornered or panic. As I walked back to my truck, I saw my reflection in the old gas station window. "Crap" I muttered. I looked like some kind of damn Jihadist auto mechanic, bushy beard, thick scarf wrapped around my head and face, coveralls, gloves, automatic weapons, machetes strapped to my thighs. A strange visual appeared in my head. I was sure I would have made the 6:00 news if the news clowns weren’t stumbling around trying to find someone to bite. "THIS JUST IN… "TERRORISTS STEAL GASOLINE"…"ONE INNOCENT CIVILIAN KILLED.
I walked back to my truck and the tank was full and overflowing. I connected the pump to the first of 2 barrels strapped into the bed of the truck. Inside of 25 minutes, I had filled the truck and 2 spare drums of fuel. Not too bad. It was then time to hit the road to do my shopping. Three blocks later, I turned into a residential neighborhood. I stopped in front of the first house on the left side of the street. I backed into the drive of the single story track house. I grabbed my nylon tote bag and jumped out of the truck.
I tried opening the front door, It was locked. Moving to the side gate, I had eased it open and entered the garage through the side door. I quickly looked around and it appeared the garage was empty. I then tried the entry to the house and found it to be locked. I took the wrecking bar from my bag and pried the door open. I was then in the laundry room. I grabbed a bottle of bleach and some detergent from a shelf over the washing machine and put them in my bag. I never did like to waste a trip; and at the very least I was only risking my life for cleaning supplies.
The other laundry room door opened into the kitchen. I set down my bag and I quickly went from room to room making sure the house was empty. There were no infected or Zombies here. I went back to the kitchen and located a good stock of canned goods in a cupboard. I loaded them all into my tote bag. I then moved to the front room. I looked out the window and I could see the street was clear. I decided I would see what else I could find.
Next, I went to the first bedroom. I opened the closet door and I didn’t find anything of use. In the closet of the second room I found a leather jacket and after trying it on, I found it to be a little big on me, but fit well enough. In the hall bathroom I had found a bottle of alcohol, some antibiotic salve and a half box of band aids. You can’t have too many first aid supplies. I also grabbed 4 or 5 clean towels and a set of bed sheets. One can’t have too many linens either. In the master bedroom nightstand I found a 9mm automatic, a loaded magazine and an almost full box of shells. You always need weapons and ammo.
All of the clothes in the closet appeared to be several sizes too large for me. But remembering my reflection at the gas station I figured what the hell. Anyone still walking around keeping a worst dressed list probably looked worse than me. I stuffed my loot into my bag and rechecked the street, still clear. Opening the front door, I stepped out and moved toward the truck. Tossing the bag into the back, I opened the door and jumped in. As I pulled out of the driveway, I checked left then right for Zombies; still clear.
I then pulled into the driveway directly across the street. I hopped out, grabbed a second tote bag and hurried to the door. I reached for the front door knob. Damn, not just unlocked but standing partially open. I readied my newly found 9mm as I entered. It was then I saw the Zombie. He immediately saw me and lunged toward me. I snapped his head back with a round to the forehead. He righted his head then toppled sideways. I moved to the large window and jerked the curtains down flooding the room with light. Lying in front of the couch was a second Zombie. This one was too screwed up to even walk. It looked like several Zombies had made a meal of his abdomen and one thigh. Dried intestines were stuck to the carpet, he tried to crawl toward me but his stuck intestines were holding him back. I put a 9mm round in his head as well.
I opened the cupboards and found two 12 packs of beer, assorted bags of unopened chips, and a can of bean dip."PAR-TY". I thought. I continued to rummage through the cupboards. There were plenty of canned beans, chili, and canned stew. I set the tote bag on the kitchen table and cautiously started searching the rest of the house. I entered the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I pushed open the first door. Judging from its clothing, what had once been a teen or pre-teen girl, staggered toward me. She opened her mouth to start howling but only a guttural rattle was emitted. Pulling a machete from its sheath on my right leg I swung hard and her head leapt from her shoulders and rolled under the bed.
I turned and started to the next room. Opening the door, I found it to be an empty bedroom. Probably a spare room based on the décor and neatness. There was one last door in the hallway. I turned the knob. Damn, it was locked. I put my back against the hallway wall, raised my boot and kicked hard at door knob level. The door sprung open, inside was a female Zombie, still in her Shorty nightgown but nothing sexy or appealing about a two year plus dead corpse. As she stumbled toward me, I raised my machete and brought it down on top of her head. She jerked like a fish on the line two or three times before plopping down on her backside I put my boot on her face and wrenched the knife free. I grabbed the edge of the blanket and wiped the knife blade before re-sheathing it.
I rooted through the nightstands and dresser drawers. I found a little .22 automatic with a 50 round box of ammunition in one of the nightstands. There was a huge .357 revolver with a 25 round box of ammunition in the other nightstand. How nice I thought. These must be his and her guns. Too bad no one had opted to use one of them to save themselves. But then they would have had to kill a family member, and be alone with the guilt as their only company.
Nowadays, there are lots of methods for meeting an untimely end. Without doctors and very few antibiotics available, any cut or broken bone can be fatal. The slightest cut can become infected and fatal. A broken bone that hampers your ability to run, climb, jump, or adequately defend yourself can be a death sentence.
Hearing the familiar shuffling gate, I looked up. A Zombie was staggering toward me through the open doorway with its arms outstretched in front of itself. I raised my machete and using my best two handed back swing form, I took his head off at the shoulders. The Zombie’s head rolled lopsidedly to the wall, the body just collapsed and folded down on it’s self. Day dreaming was also a good recipe for getting yourself killed.