OUTNUMBERED volume 3: A Zombie Apocalypse Series (6 page)

What Ed said didn't make any sense. Zombies always attacked as a single group unless two groups came from different directions. And they were always noisy. They'd never quietly sneaked up on us. As we watched, whole bodied undead actually crept up behind the gunmen to attack them.

Then I heard them. Ed and I looked to the south through the six-inch wide gunport. The wailing and screeching in the distance came from the slow-runners following behind their faster brethren. The paramilitary were caught between the zombies attacking them from behind and us. I yelled, "Let the zombies attack, and then kill them and the humans. If you get clear shots at both of them take both out."

A call for Shane over the radio got my attention. "This is Ira. I need you in room thirty-seven. Janice has been shot and it's bad. Hurry!"

I ran down the hall, dodging people without radios who didn't know about the emergency. Shane cut through a perpendicular hall and raced ten feet in front of me. At the field hospital he burst through the door, and I stopped behind him in the doorway and stared. Janice took a hit to the face. She was covered in blood and didn't respond as Ira continued to work on her. I'd seen enough battlefield injuries to be certain she wasn't going to survive the massive damage that had ripped the right side of her face and temple area away.

Shane fell to his knees, gripped Janice's hand, and cried softly. He spoke her name several times and glanced up to Ira for some sign of hope. Ira looked as sad as I'd ever seen him as he shook his head. I said, "Come on buddy, she's gone, and we're in the way here." He struggled to stay put, then moved in a daze as I guided him to the door

Vivian and Andrea took Shane's hands and gently pushed me away. They went down the hall trying to give comfort to a distraught friend while sending me to do my job.

I left the clinic in a daze and found a gunport that wasn't manned. A target presented himself and I dropped him with a perfect head shot. He wouldn't become a zombie and have to be shot again.

Sporadic shots continued to ring out as targets presented themselves. Only occasional gunfire was directed at us as the attackers now had more than enough to keep them busy. Some of their survivors ran from us and went deeper into the woods. That was a non-starter. The fast running zombies would hound them for hours on end, if the humans could last that long. My radio barked in my ear. Ed dolefully said, "Angie Butler is down. She took one in the throat and it blew her spinal cord out. James is here with her."

I jogged back to the clinic and stopped at the doorway.

From behind me and several feet away, a loud voice barked, "Make a hole! Wounded coming through." Ira pulled a sheet over Janice as I stepped clear. Morgan Halcom was carried into the room. Blood coved his right chest area, but he was still cognizant. Right behind him Verlie trotted in wearing a worried frown.

Shooting died down to occasional rounds from our people. I turned to get back involved when Albert Gonzales escorted Kira to the clinic. She held a bloody towel to her left arm about three inches down from the shoulder. Her face was a little pale. Marcie and Ira were busy working on Morgan and stabilized his condition.

Verlie turned and saw the new patient waiting. She wiped tears away as she spoke, "Let me see what you have Kira. I was a nurse some years ago." She looked closely and probed the split skin with a stainless steel tool she picked up from Ira's supply table. "You'll be fine, dear. The bullet just broke the skin and plowed a small furrow. I'll clean it and put in sutures, and then Ira can inspect it when he's free."

I couldn't fathom how calm she appeared after losing her oldest son and a best friend and knowing her husband was only feet away being operated on.

My gaze met Kira's eyes, and I winked at her and nodded encouragement. She said, "Thanks, Tom," and grinned weakly at me. Then I hurried out still appreciating the beautiful lady's warm attention.

Shooting finally stopped. I assumed the zombies were down and our invaders had been killed or run off. I looked through a south gunport and saw Nate cautiously raise his head to look around. Eerie silence pervaded as he got up on his knees and used the links in the chain-link fence to pull himself up with his left hand. I grabbed Jeff Tanka and Sam Williams and headed for the front gate.

On the radio I called Ed. "Ed, will you get the cleanup started until I get back?  I also need someone to go to the southeast watch tower and open the gate so we can bring Nate inside. Then the people assigned to this shift's watch duty need to man the towers or have someone fill in for them. Tell them to stay low until we scour the woods for any lingering outlaws."

The three of us reached the gate seconds after the ten-foot high section began to slide open. Both of the burning military vehicles emitted dense black smoke that slowly rose and drifted to blot out the nearby line of trees.

Nate sheepishly approached us, a worried look and stooped posture evidence he was hurting more than just physically. Cuts and bruises crisscrossed his face. A swollen black eye and a large yellowish-purple bruise marred the left side of his face. He limped, favoring his right leg.

Sam said, "Oh oh. Two fast-runners are coming at us from the west through the alfalfa.” All three of us dropped to our knees, aimed and fired until the attackers dropped. Again, there were no warning sounds to announce their presence. That caused great alarm for our future.

I took Nate by the shoulder, and he flinched from the rough handling. I walked him through the gate to safety before signaling the tower for the gate to be closed.

We walked inside together. I told Nate, "Go to the dining room and wait for me. We'll decide then what I'm to do with you."

Nate opened his mouth to talk, "Tom, I'm—"

"Not now, Nate. I've got too many other things to attend to. Four people died, and at least two are injured that I know of. We'll talk later. If you're hungry, go to the kitchen and they'll get you something."

I called Ed to learn his location and told him I'd meet him where he was. Then I called John. "As we clear the woods, I'd like you to inspect the inside of the building and evaluate any damage you find. Later, when the woods have been cleared, you'll have to survey the outside damage and schedule repairs to be completed before rainstorms hit. If you want help, use Anthony Margherio. He's experienced in building maintenance."

Ed was overseeing the transfer of heavy weapons to the armory for cleaning and inspection before they'd be returned to the underground storage. I asked him to appoint a group leader over twelve people and have them sweep a fifty-foot wide line into the woods around our perimeter for any injured but live outlaws. I cautioned him to ensure everyone would be on the lookout for fast zombies that might be silently lying in wait to attack. He called Martin Radcliff Sr. to lead the party through the woods.

I got back to Ira and Marcie at the temporary clinic. He had taken his surgical mask off and was cleansing his hands and arms in a pan of water when I entered. Morgan lay in a bed across the room, and Verlie and his kids and grandkids were standing at the foot of the bed. Barney, the Halcom family patriarch, stood beside Morgan's bed. Morgan smiled weakly but threw me a thumbs up sign. Then he closed his eyes and let the sedative work. Verlie stood in the middle of her family members, so I knew she and Morgan would be okay. They'd lost a son and a close friend, but the family had closed ranks to support each other.

I noticed Janice's body had been removed from the room. It was time I found Shane and gave proper condolences for his loss.

People scurried through the upstairs hallways as I made a trip around the perimeter and looked down crossways. Bloodstains were being scrubbed from the floor and walls where our people had been gunned down and where Morgan and Kira were wounded. Two others refilled the ammunition storage boxes to be ready for the next unexpected siege that would surely come. I had no idea how many rogue outfits like William's were out there, but I guessed his wasn't the only one. Sadly, some people always became the aggressors and tried to intimidate others.

I didn't yet know how many attackers we'd faced but felt we were fortunate to have won without bigger losses. If the attackers were in fact well-trained, disciplined and experienced soldiers, our casualties could have been much greater.  Eli didn't have family members with us, but he would be missed by all who had known him and appreciated his subdued sense of humor and easy going nature. Janice was another story. Her boundless energy and warm personality was a positive fixture in all of our lives. She would be sorely missed. I didn't yet know all of Morgan's family members intimately but mourned their loss.

At Janice and Shane's quarters, I knocked gently on the door. It opened and Andrea's red, tearstreaked face greeted me. Shane sat on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head on his palms. Vivian sat in a chair next to him speaking softly as she held his hand. They looked up as I closed the door. Tear paths were visible down Shane's weathered cheeks. His breaths sounded shallow, his skin looked pale. I pitied him because I knew exactly what he was going through. My wife, Emma, had died an even more horrible and senseless death two years ago.

All I could muster was, "I'm sorry."

Shane nodded. Tears flowed freely. "I know, thanks." He extended his right hand and we clasp hands and held the grip of close friendship for long seconds.

He nodded again when I said, "I have to go. There's still a lot to be done. You take all the time you need to mend. Ed, John and I will clean things up. I'll have Larry and Brittney brought up as soon as the woods are cleared, and all of the youngsters are released from the underground bunker."

Outside Shane's door, I leaned back against the wall with my head to the drywall and closed my eyes. We'd lost four wonderful people because some selfish idiots tried to push us out of our home. They didn't care that we'd have nowhere to go or that we mightn't survive against the undead that plagued us at every turn.

I pushed away from my wall of worry and set about seeing what remained to be done. John and Anthony were on the first floor and proffered a cursory damage report. "The worst damage we've seen is to the roof where Ed fired the rockets. Several shooters must have concentrated on that area when we slacked off the cover fire because several panels are riddled and will have to be replaced. Enough extra panels are stored at the barn to fix it."

Everywhere I went, crews had the situation under control. People knew what needed to be done and moved on their own, or Ed and John had given them direction. We had a competent, highly motivated crew. I went looking for Nate Robard. His family was gathered in the dining room with him when I found them. The fact that they were smiling looked like a good sign that he'd been welcomed back. He stood, apparently unsure if I'd welcome him.

I treated him in a friendly manner for his family's sake, but stayed reserved. "You've been gone almost a year and a half. What happened during that time?"

"Tom, I want to apol—"

"I'm not interested in your apology. What have you done since you left here?  Start with the day after you punched your son and cussed your family and everyone here because you're a lazy slacker and wanted to get drunk."

Nate deflated. I wanted him to know right off that he wouldn't be cut any slack. He'd left his family and the people at Deliverance who had offered him a home, and he'd brought back a bunch of outlaws who tried to push us out. He had a lot of explaining to do.

Nate's hand caught my attention. The bloody rag that had been wrapped around it was gone. In its place was a professionally applied bandage. Ira must have seen him, took pity on him, and examined the hand.

As Nate's gaze met mine, guilt and shame shone through his expression. He glanced to his family and then back to me. I sensed that Vera, Mitch and Suzie wanted to speak but held back to let Nate stand on his own. "When I left here I went from town to town trying to avoid the zombies. I quickly ran out of food and fuel and was low on ammunition. I couldn't find much food, but there were enough small amounts left in various places to keep me alive. I mostly felt sorry for myself and stayed drunk most of the time. The only good thing about it was that I lost weight. Then I had to continually look for clothes that fit. Fuel was a problem until I went to an auto parts store and found a siphon hose and took fuel from abandoned vehicles. For ammunition I prowled through sporting goods stores and gun shops and then finally broke into homes until I found sufficient amounts to build a good supply.

"I wanted to come back and apologize, but false pride wouldn't let me admit I was wrong on all counts. I kept going and pretty much stayed drunk. Then I couldn't find any alcohol for a long stretch and took an involuntary drying out period. It was hell going cold turkey alone, and I don't ever want to go through it again. I quit drinking and I promise I won't start again.” Nate swallowed hard and paused for a moment before he continued.

"About a month ago, William's bunch found me and confiscated the Humvee. They had taken over a big house over by Cedar Rapids. They were a rough bunch, but they treated me okay when I first got there. They fed me and were friendly.

"Williams wanted to know how I'd existed on my own and I told them. I didn't mention being here, but last week he pushed hard and threatened me. I told them I'd left here, and when he learned Vera and my kids were still here he got really interested and wanted to know details. Some of the people who were the closest to him edged in and I saw looks I didn't like. While Williams and a guy they called Gunner beat on me I heard one of them tell another they planned to take your place over, keep the women and kill the kids and men. I thought you'd be badly outnumbered because I'd counted twenty-eight of them. Eventually, a big hateful brute, Gunner, hit me hard enough to knock me out. I woke when they threw cold water in my face. I was naked, and my forearms and hands were taped to the arms of a dining room chair. Gunner had the first joint of my right pinky finger in a pair of large wire cutters. He gave me a cruel grin as he squeezed the sharp edges down on the joint. I screamed from the pain, and he just laughed as he cut the end of my finger off."