The Last Blade Of Grass (16 page)

The people on the other stacked containers have about the same amount of ammo, except for the .308 rounds, and they have 9mm instead of 40 S+W. The problem I’m having while looking out into the crowd below is that I have no way to gauge how many infected there are, but it looks like far more than the nearly 30,000 rounds that we have available. So even if we make every shot count, we could still be at a deficit.

“Make sure you shoot away from us, out into the crowd!” Daniel yells to correct everyone’s aim. “Don’t shoot at the ones near the container, or we will build a ramp of bodies for them to climb up and get us.”

Fortunately they have completely surrounded the containers now and are pushing from all directions. The bottom two containers are filled with heavy goods, and are set four feet into the ground, so there isn’t a great chance of them moving it to begin with, but anything is possible when you get enough bodies or mass on one side of an object and continue to push. It almost seems that just the squelching wet moans coming from so many of these things could knock down the containers. And if it wasn’t for the false moat created by the hill circling the containers, the numbers of bodies pressed directly against the container sides would probably cause them to cave in, toppling the top containers and us into the crowd.

*

Seven hours have passed since the first shot was fired. We have been shooting just 22lr for the last hour, and the rate at which we can shoot has been cut way down. We are taking turns loading magazines while two of us shoot. All four of us are shivering from the cold, and I can barely feel my fingers as I load the rounds. I seem to drop one bullet for every five I get in the mag. At least it seems the numbers of infected are dropping off. Of course I’m just seeing what I wish would happen instead of what is actually out there.

We have about 7000 rounds left, and the sea of these things just keeps surging around. There is a huge wall of bodies completely around our container now, about fifteen yards out. It seems to be about ten feet high at its highest point, and I can’t see the earthen hill underneath it at any point. If not for that hill or the cold, I know we would already be dead. Every little thing helps in a way. These things have to slowly climb over the bodies of the dead to make their way to us. It makes our shooting easier while the cold and weariness makes it more difficult. I can only shudder as I imagine the numbers of bodies that are piled there to make such a disgusting wall possible.

*

Nine hours in and it’s too dark to continue shooting. I’m not sure what type of moon we’re supposed to have tonight, but it doesn’t matter with the heavy cloud cover. All we can do is eat and load the magazines. We have to try to get some sleep. Sleeping, of course, seems like it should be next to impossible since I can barely even think over the noise of the moans. In reality, I’m having a hard time staying awake with the exhaustion I’m feeling. The overwhelming fear of the numbers we are dealing with apparently kept my adrenaline pumping, but now I’m coming down hard.

I keep awake long enough to check in with Simone. She decided to shoot some air holes into the doors of the containers so they wouldn’t have to risk cracking them open when the air got low. Hopefully the other two containers did the same. I used the scope on my FAL earlier to see that Arthur, Eleanor, Randy, and Randy’s son, Joshua, are on the other stacked containers. I could have sworn I only saw three people climb up there earlier. I must have looked away too soon. I should have thought to put radios in all of the root cellars and on the stacked containers where we are. If it wasn’t for Simone’s quick thinking, I wouldn’t even be able to talk to her.

Thinking about the screams from earlier, I’m wondering if we lost people, or if they were just screams of fear. I really shouldn’t dwell on what may or may not be losses right now. This ordeal isn’t over yet, and I have to try and get some sleep.

I wish we had thought to put tents up here to help block the wind. I guess none of us expected such a large number of infected to hit us at once, especially in the winter. I know I was wrong on both counts. I totally thought the snow and cold would freeze them solid, or kill them off. Hell, I thought they would have dropped dead from dehydration or starvation by now. I barely had a thought about them wandering the countryside in some type of mass exodus during winter. I mean, what the hell is this crowd? Did waves of these things head in all directions from Medford, or was it really the music in the woods pulling them this way? If someone is behind this, how would we find them if we survive?

I don’t know if I’ll ever have an answer to any of these questions.

*

It’s morning now. My face feels frozen, and I have to take off my hat and shake snow from it. There was just a light dusting of snow last night. My arms and legs are stiff, and there isn’t an inch of me that is warm. The light is just coming up, and the shadows of these monsters are still pressing up against our container from all directions. There is enough time to wipe the sleep from my eyes and eat something before there will be enough light to start shooting at these things again.

It sounds like there are fewer of them this morning, but my ears could just be adjusted to the sound now. Then again, maybe a bunch wandered off in boredom last night, or in continued pursuit of whatever they originally came this way for. I’m glad we let the horses and other animals we had out of the barns and stables before the horde got here. I hope some of the animals will survive and make their way back here if we can make it safe.

*

Two hours have gone by since the morning shooting resumed, and I use my rifle scope to look over at the other group since I don’t hear them firing anymore. They must have run out of ammo, because I can see that they are still alive. Even with the dirt hills that surrounded these containers, I was concerned that the containers would still get crushed and collapse from the pressure of so many bodies. I’m so grateful that they didn’t.

We are down to just over six bricks of .22lr ammo, so just over 3000 rounds. But we only have one functional gun remaining. One of the 10/22’s had a bad round explode in the chamber, and we don’t have any cleaning supplies to knock out the stuck round and shell. Fortunately no more infected have been pouring onto the property. We are looking at about one thousand infected still trying to get at us or the other container.

The radio squelches, and I pick it up. “Eddie, are you still there?”

“I’m here, Simone. What’s going on?”

“Hi, Eddie,” she says softly. “I’m not sure how many of those things you killed, but they piled up in front of our doors. We tried shooting more holes at the top of the container, but no light or air came through, so they must be piled at least that high.”

“Okay, Simone. There are about a thousand more infected out here, and Arthur is already out of ammunition. Just try to stay calm and keep everyone else calm too. I’ll get you out of there as fast as I can. I’ll need to get to the tractor to clear the bodies from your container door, so I have to have most of them dead before I can do that. Do you think you have another hour of air?”

“Yes, I think so. We aren’t gasping yet. I’ll let you know if it gets really bad.”

“I love you Simone.”

“I love you too.”

I look at the other three on the container with me, and we all shake our heads at the new bad news.
Damn it,
I think.
I’m not going to survive this flood of destruction just to lose my wife and kids to a lack of oxygen
. I also don’t know how the other two shelters are doing. They could be in just as bad or maybe worse shape for air. I need to get off of this tower.

*

There are now about thirty loose infected that are aimlessly wandering in the yard. Knowing that they can’t get to us, they have lost interest in trying, and seem to be just hanging around like vagrants in a blood soaked, body filled park. To my luck the larger number of the still living infected, maybe a couple hundred, are trapped around the base of the other stacked containers. We have killed all the infected that are in the trench surrounding the containers we are on and have been aiming beyond the wall of bodies to kill the rest of them, so I have somewhere to escape too. Hopefully, my frozen and stiff muscles will still move me faster than the infected.

I would love to have a gun on me, but I won’t be able to aim the 10/22 while I’m running. My best bet of making it, is to have one of the other guys up here cover me with the rifle, while I run for the tractor. I walk to the edge and lower the ladder into the bloody pit below us. I take a few deep breaths to help build my resolve, finally climb over the side, and step down the ladder. With my first step off the ladder’s bottom rung, I step on an arm, which rolls off the body it is laying on. I lose my balance and fall onto the pile of corpses at the bottom, and quickly scramble back up, afraid I will get pulled down by the arm that I think moved by itself.

I look around, but nothing down here is moving on its own except for me. I have a huge wall of bodies that I need to get over now, so I grab the ladder away from the container, and push it so it falls up against the wall of stacked death to begin my climb.

We are all truly alone now. The guys on my container will have a dangerous fall onto loose piles of uneven partly frozen bodies if they want to get down without a ladder. I know in movies people used to be able to make amazing jumps and falls without getting hurt, but in the real world, landing on an uneven surface can easily break an ankle. Arthur, on the other container, is completely trapped with no ammo and a pit full of infected around him. And the people in the containers might all have their doors buried by landslides of blood soaked human cadavers. If I die on this run there is a good chance everyone else dies as well.

I don’t see any of the infected walking near me once I get to the top of the ladder and body wall, although some are writhing or twitching on the ground here and there. Even within the wall there are some heads or appendages that are still moving, trapped underneath the bodies of the dead, and unable to work themselves free. I am only able to carefully crawl the first fifty yards of my
run
to the tractor. My attempts to walk the distance were met with abject failure. The bodies don’t start to thin out until that far out for me to get a solid footing on real ground.

Even with the human remains not piled three to four high, there is barely a bare space of ground to walk on. I still have to step on top of dead bodies almost all the way off the field. Each step brings a disgusting sound. For the frozen solid bodies, a brittle cracking followed by my foot sinking in a few inches as my weight collapses the ribs. More rare this far out from the freshly shot is a soft squish or a gurgling rasp as the weight of my foot pushes the air from the lungs of the person I trample on. Thankfully, the land around the houses, stable, barn, and outbuildings are mostly clear of bodies. The infected were drawn to our chosen field of battle, so fewer shots had to be made out this way.

I step around the corner of the stable, where the tractor is located, and nearly run into a putrid mass of flesh that turns to reach for me. There are eight of the infected between me and the tractor. More start stumbling out of the stable to join in their new pursuit of my uninfected blood. I turn toward the house and nearly get pulled down by the first infected I saw that manages to grab my jacket at the neck. I lunge myself forward to break free and pull him off balance instead. He falls on his face behind me as I start my run away from the new crowd, yelling loudly as I go, hoping to pull them all out into the open air to be shot at.

I’m lucky the fingers of these things have lost dexterity in the cold. They can’t usually do any manipulation with their hands, but once they grab someone, they rarely let go without breaking their fingers or cutting off their arm.

I make it to the house and slam the door closed behind me. At least here I have a chance, and I realize I should have thought about running here originally. Now I can grab some guns and more ammo. I open the wall cabinet in the entry hall and grab out another AR-15, my five-seven, which I haven’t used since we left the store, along with six loaded magazines for each.

I’m switching holsters on my belt for the FN when I get another call from Simone. “Eddie, it’s getting bad in here. It’s a lot harder to breathe, and I’m worried about the kids and your mom. I need you to get the door open soon.”

“I’ll get it done, Simone. I’m just inside the house now getting more guns and ammo. There was a bunch of the infected in the stable that came out when I first tried for the tractor. I’ll get you some air soon, I promise.”

There are too many banging on the front door for me to try opening it, so I go through the back door, and walk around the side till I see the crowd gathered there. There looks to be forty infected scattered between the stable and the front door, with eight or ten lying dead on that path from my saviors still on the container tower I left. I start shooting at the crowd right by the door while others keep falling from 10/22 shots. One and a half minutes later, and about the same number of magazines, the immediate crowd is down; either completely dead or giving their final twitches.

I run to the tractor, and shoot three more that come out of the stable, before I’m able to climb on. I sling the rifle over my back, draw my five-seven, and start up the old tractor, which gives me a grateful loud rumble at getting to start work again. If we didn’t need to clear the rubble from the burned down shed, I wouldn’t have a hope of getting this thing started in time. It took us a full day without the infected attacking to get it running for that job last week.