ZOMBIES: "Chronicles of the Dead": A Zombie Novel (7 page)

Now the sarcasm in her voice was more pronounced.

“Okay honey," she said.

“This is going to be more fun than I thought,” I muttered as I walked into the kitchen to gather some more food for our journey.

I made a point of not telling Gin about our close encounter with the zombies on the driveway. The sound of Jacob shooting them blended in with the gun fire we were hearing all over the neighborhood, so that didn't get her attention. She seemed to have put the encounter with our neighbors Jon and Julie behind her for now, so I saw no reason to upset her all over again. After all, she would find out soon enough how difficult and dangerous this excursion was going to be.

Jacob was already in the kitchen grabbing food off the pantry shelves, and as I joined him I suggested.

“Get the canned food Jake. It’s heavier, but the canned vegetables have water in them, and we're going to need all the water we can get,” I told him.

I hurried to grab the last few cans of green beans off the shelf and added.

"Get those jars of peanut butter too; they don't need to be refrigerated."

"Come on Gin, bring what you've got, and let's go!" I yelled with a sense of urgency.

Rounding the corner and dragging two full suitcases Gin announced.

"Here I come, and by the way, where’s my camouflage suit?” She asked.

“Probably in one of those suit cases,” I replied.

“Very funny,” she said, not at all amused.

“We’ll get you some later, at some sporting goods store or someplace,” I said, thinking that it shouldn’t be too hard to find camouflage clothing somewhere, hell now days even department stores sell it. At least they did before the outbreak, now of course they'll be giving it away.

We made our way back into the garage, toting the last of our possessions that we would be taking with us.

That's when the reality of the situation hit all of us. There was a calm silence, because we all knew that once we left, we would never be coming back to this place.

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THE MORPHADITE

Normally I would have installed the gas tanks back into the boat when I returned from filling them at the gas station. However, as fate would have it (probably knowing of the impending apocalypse), I got distracted with another of life's little emergencies at the time, and left the full fuel tanks on the floor of the garage to be loaded at a later date. That later date of course, just happened to be in the middle of an apocalyptic outbreak of the undead, with life and death balanced precariously on our timely departure from this zombie-infested locality.

“Billy let’s get these tanks in the boat, hook’em up, but don't open the vent cap,” I said, again trying to implant a sense of urgency that was desperately needed. “We've got to get moving, we want to be on the river before dark. Jump in the boat and I'll hand them to you."

With only two hours left until sundown, we weren't remotely ready to leave for the river.

“We don't have much room so let’s pack these supplies as tight as we can,” I stated, again with authority. “Guns and ammo go in last; we have to be able to get to them fast when we need too! We've only got two sleeping bags, put them in front, and tie them to the bow cleats."

"I'll put the rest of the food up in the front compartments,” Jacob said, as he stashed several cans into the front hold of the boat.

It took us another half an hour to fill the boat to capacity with our supplies and weapons, and still leave enough room for ourselves.

As I stepped up on the side of the trailer and handed Jacob the last box of ammo, I asked. “Are all of the magazines loaded?"

"Yes, all of them are fully loaded," Billy answered, nodding his head.

"Well, that's it then," I said. "We need to hurry, we don't have a whole lot of time before it gets dark, and if we have to fight our way to the river, we don't want to have to do it in the dark."

"Well, are we ready to go?" Gin asked.

"Not quite yet," I answered, motioning to Jacob. "Go in the house and look out the front window and see if you can see how many eaters if any, are in the driveway, and be careful, take a gun with you, remember, we only have a drop cloth for a back door now."

"Okay," Jacob said, picking up the same carbine he had used earlier as he headed into the house.

"Do you think there might be some of those things in the driveway?" Gin asked, unaware of our earlier experience trying to fill the gas can.

I knew there were zombies on the other side of the garage door, but I didn't want to alarm her anymore than she already was, so I said. "Well it can't hurt to check."

"Right, it can't hurt to check," she agreed.

We had been working rather somberly, but that mood was broken quickly a few minute later when we heard three gunshots coming from inside the house.

Before we had a chance to react, Jacob came bursting back into the garage.

"I just shot three of them on the patio, I heard them growling on my way back from checking the driveway."

"Are you all right?" Gin asked.

Smiling Jacob replied. "Yes, I'm okay mom, but we have three more dead neighbors. I mean
really
dead neighbors."

"Jon and Julie's smell must have attracted them. What did the driveway look like, any eaters?" I asked.

Looking confused, not knowing that I was trying to spare his mother any more grief by not telling her about our previous failed attempt to get to the van, Jacob answered cautiously.

"Yes, there's lots of them, twenty-five, maybe thirty, they’re all over the place, in the driveway, in the yard, the street, the neighbor's yards, everywhere."

With nightfall closing in on us, I now felt an overwhelming sense of desperation. We had to come up with a workable plan, and fast.

"So, if we were to break out the front window, could we get a clean shot at most of them?" I asked.

Nodding his head Jacob answered.

"I think so?"

"So if one of us was to shoot from the front window, and one of us shot from the garage, between the two, they could cover the one's hooking up the trailer to the van?"

"I'll shoot from the garage," Billy said quickly.

"I guess that leaves me at the front window," Jacob said.

"Then your mother and I will hook up the trailer," I added.

Shrugging her shoulders and stating categorically.

"I don't know how to do that!" Gin said, scowling as she informed us.

"All you have to do is just back up the van a few feet, and I'll do the rest," I said, hoping to convince her. "You
can
back up the van can't you?"

"Yes, I know how to back up the van; you just put it in reverse and stomp on the gas pedal, right?" she said, in her all too familiar sarcastic tone.

After our disastrous attempt to fill the gas can earlier, which I felt was my fault, I wanted to do my best to make sure that everyone knew what to do, and how to do it this time.

"All right!" I said ignoring my wife's feeble attempt at sarcastic humor. "Here's the plan. Jacob, you'll go to the front window, break it out, and leave as many shards in the frame as you can, since you won’t be going out that way it might afford you a little more protection, remember Julie’s hand? Then shoot as many eaters as you can see, and hopefully the sound of your shots will draw the ones on the driveway toward you. We'll wait a couple of minutes for them to migrate to the front window, then Billy you'll open the garage door, and we'll shoot any stragglers. Gin, when it's clear, you make a run for the van and back it up to the trailer. Once the trailer is hitched, we'll yell for Jacob and hold off any eaters that might have turned back toward us while he makes his way back here. Then we all jump in the van and get the hell out of Dodge. Any questions?"

Jacob piped up, "Nope!"

"Are you sure you want me to back up the van?" Gin asked.

I looked at her nodding my head, which gave her a visual affirmative answer to her question, and said.

"We don't have a choice, I might need Billy to help with the trailer, and he can't do that and drive at the same time. Don't worry, you'll do fine."

Not sounding very confident Gin replied, "All right, I'll do it, give me the keys."

"Okay then, here's the keys, let's do this thing," I said, as I handed Gin the keys to the van.

Jacob turned and began to walk into the house.

"We'll wait two minutes after we here your first shot," I said. "Give us a minute or two, and then listen for your name, when you hear it, get back here as fast as you can. And watch your back. Get me?" I barked.

"I get you dad," Jacob barked back.

We barely heard the glass breaking as Jacob thrust the butt stock of his rifle through the front window. But we heard very clearly the repeated blasts of that same rifle, as he began to eliminate the threats in front of our house.

"One minute," I said as I looked up from my watch.

Now Gin's adrenalin was starting to course through her veins as she screamed, "I counted seventeen shots!"

Worried that the zombies would hear her yelling, and might not follow the sound of Jacob's gunfire, I whispered back.

"Not so loud, he's trying to draw them off."

"Seventeen shots, how many bullets does that gun hold?" Gin asked, whispering this time.

"It uses Glock magazines, and the one in his gun is for the Glock eighteen, and it holds thirty-three rounds fully loaded."

Looking very concerned Gin asked. "Was his fully loaded?"

"Billy told me earlier that all the magazines were fully loaded, right Billy?"

"Right dad, all of them are, or at least they were before he started shooting."

"Anyway, knowing Jacob and his attention to detail, my answer would have to be yes even if Billy didn't concur," I told her.

I really hoped that I was right, and that Jacob had loaded his magazines to their full capacity.

I looked down at my watch and checked the time again.

"A few more seconds and we go!"

Billy put his hand on the garage door handle, and quietly spoke.

"He's still shooting; he's not out of ammo yet."

With a solemn look on my face, I started a slow countdown leaving three or four seconds between each number.

"Three..., two..., one..., open it!"

Billy again quickly raised the garage door.

Outside we saw dozen's of zombies, many of them were on the ground in pools of their own blood, with chunks of their brain's oozing out of their skulls.

Our plan was working. Some of the undead had bullet holes in their neck or their chest from some of Jacob's near misses, but were still walking, they were staggering a little more than normal, or should I say abnormal, but all of the zombies that were still able to move, were moving in the direction of the front window of our house.

Others were converging on our front yard, from across the street; again, all in the direction of the window from which Jacob was sniping.

"It's working," Billy said, lowering his pistol and moving toward the trailer.

Gin didn't have to be told, she sprinted to the driver's door of the van and jumped inside, and before we knew it, the engine was started and she was backing the van toward the trailer.

"A little more, more, stop," I shouted, as the hitch ball was now lined up with the trailer. The trailer was slightly high, so I began to turn the crank to lower the tongue coupler onto the hitch ball. The weight of the trailer pushed down on the back of the van as I lowered it into position.

"There, it's hooked," I said, slapping down the locking latch and quickly cranking the trailer's gear jack wheel up and out of the way.

Rising up, I said to Billy.

"Call Jacob back here now!"

Then we all realized that we weren't hearing anymore gunfire coming from the front window.

As fast as I could, I holstered my Glock pistol and I grabbed one of the AK-47's out of the boat with one hand and a seventy-five round drum magazine with the other, and as I ran back into the house, I yelled. "Something's wrong, get in the van, I'll be right back."