The Last Blade Of Grass (4 page)

I still get a little shocked when I hear one of my kids say something like that. I keep telling myself that I have to start giving these kids more credit—to be able to handle life in this world. Before this war for survival broke out, some kids that were 12 to 14 years old were already doing horribly adult things, doing hard drugs and raping and killing each other. Kids and teenagers are capable of some extremely violent actions. It is just that my kids didn’t live in a city with regular violence, and they didn’t hang out with the kinds of people that committed crimes, none of us did. So this change in them to being serious and about getting the job done, even relating to killing another person, is jarring. So the saying is true, innocence is always the first casualty in a war.

“Hannah, Olivia, William? I want you to know how proud I am of you three. Your mom and I have asked you to do things and be responsible for things that we didn’t have to take care of at your ages. I know that once you are back inside our house I don’t have to worry about what will happen to any of you, because you stick up for each other, and work so well together. If I could give you one piece of final advice before I head out, you need to express your concerns and hesitations to each other going forward, all right? Ask more questions and don’t always trust the first plan given.

“My plans aren’t always the best. I often leave things out that I should have thought of. So if you ever have concerns or suggestions, make sure you make yourself heard, because your idea could save someone’s life. Now, does anyone have any questions or ideas before we start?”

Hannah replies, “I think I should go instead of you, Dad. I don’t think you or Mom use us enough as approaches to strangers. We are less threatening, and in this case, I might be able to approach the house without that guy freaking out, where another adult is especially a threat.”

I give a small smile to Simone and think briefly how to let Hannah know the reasons for my going instead of one of them. “You are right that you would be less threatening, Hannah, but in this case, it is not his property. He is the intruder, and I want him to feel threatened to a certain degree. I need my presence and your laser dot on his chest to help convince him that he should put his gun on the ground without fighting back. If you are there with him, it's like threatening someone with a tiny gun. It may be just as deadly as a larger gun, but bigger things often feel like greater threats. Like the difference between a big fat infected guy and an infected little kid, size matters in how we see things.”

She nods, but I can tell she isn’t completely convinced.

“The other reason I’m going is that I am already bitten. The threat or potential threat inside our house could be so immense that no one that is at that gate makes it out alive. I will only send you to speak with strangers after we have had a great deal of time to observe them and find out how they react to outsiders. Ultimately, your life is just more valuable than mine.” I pause, then add, “But if you were bitten instead of me, then I’d probably let you go, okay?”

That seems to have satisfied all of the questions and after a round of quick
I love yous
,
be carefuls
, and
goodbyes
.

I start walking toward the gate, and call out, “Hello, you inside the fence.”

To our good fortune, the man lifts his hand over his eyes to peer out at the woods where I called from, rather than ready his weapon for a fight.

“I am coming out of the woods and approaching the fence now,” I call as I casually walk forward and let him know what his position actually is. “My name is Eddie Keeper, and I am the owner of the property you are now in. I am not alone, and I need you to remain calm and not make any aggressive movement or actions toward me, do you understand?”

He nods his head, and says, “Yes,” but then stupidly pulls his rifle off of his shoulder by the strap, and aims it at me when I am halfway between the woods and the fence. He then bizarrely says, “That’s far enough. Now, tell me who you are?”

Great!
I think.
Someone is in my yard that can’t remember the last two seconds of conversation
. But I stop, and tell him, “I told you who I am. I am Eddie Keeper, and this is my property. I told you not to make any aggressive moves, but you have, so now you need to look at your own chest.”

The red dot is easily visible on his blue shirt, even though it is not dark outside yet. As he looks down and sees it, I can’t help but smile. I guess my fighting lessons to the girls are paying off. The laser started at his chest and lowered itself to hover over the man’s crotch. His rifle lowered with the movement of the dot.

“Okay, now,” I yell, bringing the man’s attention back to me and my now raised rifle. “I tried to be civil with you, but apparently you are either unable, or unwilling to follow instructions. You will now slowly place your rifle on the ground, and then step over it leaving it behind you. Do it now.” This part at least he is listening to. I continue to move forward after he has placed his gun on the ground and it is behind him. “Who are you, what are you doing on my property, and where are the other families that live here?” I say as I reach the fence.

“My wife got hurt, and we came here for medical care. My son, Mike, was looking for help last night when he ran into some people, a Samantha and her group. She told him where your place was, and there is a nurse that lives here that might be able to help my wife, but the nurse isn’t here.”

I step in between this guy and Hannah’s laser, and give a thumb-up sign with my left hand since he is starting to get hysterical while telling me this. I don’t want Hannah to mistake his animated discussion style for aggravation, since I don’t believe they can hear him from where they are.

“I get it that you seem worried about your wife, but I still don’t know who you are. I want to get myself and my family back inside our home. Now I am going to hang my rifle on my back, draw my pistol, and get my keys out to unlock the gate. I need you to stay very still, and I mean statue still, because I will shoot you if you move this time. Do you understand me?”

He nods, but I better be quick, because this guy is definitely on the edge. His jerky, almost jittery demeanor indicates he is not functioning on all cylinders. I step to the right, giving Hannah back her line of sight to him. While I’m unlocking the gate, he tells me his name is Carl, and he is an accountant from Grants Pass and something about them being in Rogue River for a while and needing to move on. He is speaking super-fast, and his focus just isn’t on this situation. So I stop him and bring him back to the present.

“Look Carl,” I say and then lift the gate handle, re-insert the lock, and lock it with the handle up, then push the gate open, keeping my Glock 27 at waist level but pointed at him. “Your wife is hurt, and my wife is the nurse that lives here. The quicker I can safely get my family in this fence, the sooner my wife can start helping your wife, okay?”

All right
, I think.
I’m inside the fence now, and the gate is open. If anything happens, he won’t be able to close the gate, especially while he is under fire
.

He finally seems to be calming down somewhat. I see him taking deeper breaths, and his eyes actually look like they are starting to focus more instead of just dart around. This man is undeniably acting like someone that is missing his normal medications.

“Carl, someone else is inside, right? I’m going to call out to them, okay?”

“Greg,” he says. “Greg is in there.”

I’m not normally a believer in Murphy’s Law. I mean, with the luck I’ve had in keeping my family safe to this point, I couldn’t seriously believe bad luck was on my side, but this particular encounter is just not working out very well at all. I call out to Greg, who I think should already be out here with all the yelling I was doing. “Hey Greg, get out here. It’s Eddie Keeper. We’re back.”

At the same time I see Carl’s eyes focus on the bandage on my left arm. His eyes go wide, and you can see his face change from compliance to anger, and I mean a hate filled anger that makes him look like he will explode from it.

He starts mouthing, ‘
You’ve been bitten! You’ve been bitten!
’ And on the third time round he gets his voice back, and the hateful accusatory sound that flows forth again doesn’t sound like the same man I have been dealing with. “You’ve been bitten, haven’t you? You’re trying to sneak in here and kill us all!”

Now, I know with all of his various behaviors and reactions that this man is a drugger. I just have to hope that his symptoms or issues are mild and he can still use reason, and see logic. I don’t want to have to shoot a man that has a son and sick wife inside.
Please let this work.

“Carl, calm down. Yes, I’ve been bitten, but that was five hours ago. I didn’t turn when I was bitten, that means I have an hour left before the fever hits. I just need to get my family home, none of them are bitten.”

“What?” he yells.

He is finally being coherent, only this isn’t the kind of cognizant reaction I would like him to have.

“You’re full of shit. You probably don’t even live here, you bastard.”

I have to raise my pistol to his chest as he tries to take a step toward me.

“Carl, I used a key to unlock the gate. I wouldn’t have the key if I didn’t live here.” I think I lost him. My last hope of bringing him back to his senses is gone.

“You’re full of it!” he yells. “You think just like the rest of them. You think you can pull one over on me just because I can’t always think straight. But I got you now. I understand this deal plenty well. You’ve been bitten, and no one with you is coming in here.”

This is just bullshit. I go on a long scavenging run with my family for supplies, and hopefully news about the world, and have to return with a fresh bite from an infected to face off with some damned mixed up, possible drugger, just to get back to my own home. For all of Carl’s erratic behavior up to this point, I do understand his fear of someone with a bite. But whatever Carl’s issue is, he is letting me know in no uncertain terms that our goals and desires are completely opposite, and after he is secured and my family is safely in the yard, he must leave as soon as humanly possible. I move the finger on my gun from the ready to the trigger.

Greg, whom I will later find out was in the basement and couldn’t hear me, decides it is finally time to emerge from the house, and sees me with Carl and calls my name.

I turn my head to the right to look at Greg, and while my head turns, Carl steps forward, grabs my gun, and tries to wrench it out of my hand. I pull the trigger while my eyes are darting back away from Greg and shoot Carl in the chest, on the right side, right about where his nipple would be. Hannah shoots Carl in his right side about six inches down from the armpit before Carl is able to release his hold on my Glock. Finally, Carl registers a look of shock and surprise on his face as his body starts to fall backward, with a slight clockwise spin to his left.

Time was in slow motion for me for a while, and now I realize I also lost a few seconds in the aftermath, because Greg is now next to Carl on the ground checking on him. I didn’t even notice him dash over from the house. I finally re-focus and turn my anger on Greg.

“Greg! Where the hell were you? Is everything okay here at the house? Why the fuck did you let this guy in here? He was obviously a drugger! What the fuck is going on?”

Greg is jolted a bit by my yelling and more so by seeing me shoot Carl, but is still able to reply a stuttering, “Yes, everyone here is okay. I think, except for Carl. Why did you shoot him?”

“Are you serious? He grabbed my gun and was acting like he was missing some major medications. All mixed up and unable to focus.”

Looking down at Carl, I can see he is dead. Not dead yet, but dead in the next few seconds, his body is shutting down. He is staring up into space, with blood coming out of his mouth, and only a slight gurgling sound as the air leaves his lungs. His shirt and chest are covered in blood. Even if it was just my shot, in normal times, with functioning hospitals, there would be a slim chance he would survive from a pointblank shot to the right lung with a .40 caliber bullet. It’s the kind of wound that would have had mixed success in treatment if addressed quickly. But adding in the .22 shot through in his side that probably made it to his heart, there is nothing we could do for him, even if we were all surgeons.

I know I should feel remorse or sadness over this dead man in my yard, but right now, I need to get my family inside the second fence line, especially since we fired two shots out here. There usually isn’t infected activity in this area, and it has decreased everywhere else which allowed us to expand our searches, but that doesn’t mean there are none out here. I would almost like to say that regular people are once again the greatest threat to our survival, but then I remember the runner.

“Greg, I know this is a lot to take in right now, but we need to get moving. Simone and the kids are out by the trees. We have supplies on the bikes and trailers, and above all else, I have been bitten!” I show him my arm, and he slightly lowers and shakes his head. “We need to get them in here, and I need to be tied down in the shed. We are coming up on five and a half hours after the bite. It’s too close to six hours for me to be out here with everyone.” I step back to the gate, and say, “Greg, are you coming?”