“Fuck you and die, Talon,” was all she said, dropping her head back and coughing blood.
I kicked her gun away, a small snub-nosed revolver. I looked her over then moved so she could see me. I bent down and quietly said, “You first.” I stood up and walked away, Pamela breathing her rattling last breath.
Duncan just shook his head as I got into the car and fired it up. “She must have circled back through the pines. These kids today,” was all he said.
I leaned out the window and shook his hand. “It’s the new math. It just messes with their heads.”
Duncan waved ruefully as I pulled away. Looking in the rearview mirror I saw Duncan dragging Pamela’s body over to the burn area, and Dane’s body still on the blacktop. I shook my head at the whole thing and thanked God once again for Charlie’s instincts. I drove down the road towards my new home.
When I got to the school, Sarah had a question in her eyes. I summed it up simply. “Duncan shot Blake, I shot Pamela.” Sarah just nodded. Gotta love a woman that understands.
2
The first week in Leport was an adjustment, as we went from comfortable condos to classrooms again, but it was necessary in order to finish the defenses for the town. Tommy and Charlie had tinkered with the backhoe and bulldozer for three days before they managed to get them running. Once they did, they dug a six foot wide, six foot deep trench around the perimeter of our town. That actually took a shorter amount of time than I expected. Tommy’s arm had healed pretty well, and Jason Coleman was nearly fully healed as well. John Reef, our plumber, spent several days figuring out how to turn off the water lines to the uninhabited part of town and focus it to the habitable. He informed me that if we could get a system working where we could get water up to the tower from the river, we could have running water in the homes. I pondered that one, but after a while had to admit I was stumped. I sent the question to Nate and he had nothing for me, either. Nate informed me they would be arriving in about a week, so we had better have some accommodations ready. Nate said sixty people were coming and that was twenty more than I thought. Oh well, we had the homes.
I was keeping busy going house to house, making sure we were alone in our little slice of peace. During the thaw, the zombies that could move again were on the move and they had a weird habit of hiding out and waiting for something to happen. Sarah was helping Rebecca take care of the babies, and gave me more than a little grief for going out alone. But I reassured her I would be fine, that I needed to get this done before Nate arrived. Besides, I wasn’t alone; Mark Wells was coming with me today. He was going to see about establishing a power grid isolated to our immediate area. I welcomed the company and Sarah was satisfied. She gave me a hug before I left and refused to let go until I promised her I would come back.
Mark and I were headed to the far eastern edge of our section of the town. We were going to go house to house and clear out any zombies we found. We weren’t looking for any supplies, but we would mark the houses where supplies and sundries could be found for pickup later. If we found any weapons, we would bring them back immediately, but I didn’t really expect to find any.
With the weather being warmer, we needed to be as careful as ever, since the ghouls were definitely up and running. We stepped down Stephen Street and worked our way to Main Street, which would then take us to our starting point. We passed several homes and businesses, and Mark began to realize just how big of a task we had ahead of us.
“We need to check all these homes?” he said, glancing around as we went downhill. We walked down the middle of the street, not because we could, but to give us the most room in case a zombie was ambling in the alleys. We hadn’t encountered any Z’s yet, but I knew they were around. Sounds where there shouldn’t be sounds and shuffling noises coming from open windows. It felt like the town was watching us, not only the walking dead, but the souls of the people who’d died here. I didn’t get the impression we were not wanted, but rather it was like the town was holding a collective breath, to see if we could actually make a stand here, and come back from possible extinction.
“Yeah, we do. I wouldn’t want to give a home to some family that had zombies under the bed.” I swung my carbine to cover an alleyway, but relaxed as a mouse stepped out, looked at us, then rustled into the weeds. Good luck, little one. I thought. I had switched back to my trusted M1 Carbine, figuring we would be in close quarters mode for a while and the M1A wasn’t really suited for that, being a heavier caliber. Mark was armed with Dane Blake’s Mini-14. He wasn’t needing it anymore. We were also armed with our usual weapons, knives and close-in fighting tools. Over the winter I had taken a shine to Sarah’s little pickaxe, but not liking the short handle, I fashioned one a little longer for extended reach. Mark had the crowbar, so he would be opening the doors.
Mark had taken to the training pretty well, and I trusted him to at least remain steady in case we got into a spot, but he had never gone one on one with a real Z yet. This little walk was as much a test of his ability, as it was of how the zombies had weathered the winter.
We came to an intersection and stopped. A small group of six zombies were slowly making their way down the street. When they saw us, it was like a switch had been turned on, and they immediately began shuffling faster, groaning and reaching. They were desperate after their winter freeze, and wanted us badly.
I wasn’t in the mood to accommodate. I tossed Mark the end of a fifteen foot rope I had with me and we spread out, running at the zombies. The rope took them about waist high, and we tumbled the lot of them. As they struggled to get up, I stepped up and crushed the skull of what might have been a teenager, while Mark nailed a guy in a torn up business suit. A second zombie joined the first as I slammed the pickaxe into the skull of a zombie who was getting slowly to his feet. Mark killed another one then retreated as the remaining two came at him in a rush. He ran down the center of the street, then turned to face his attackers.
Sure enough, one was faster than the other, and they had spread out far enough for him to bury the hook end of the crowbar in the skull of the first zombie. Unfortunately, the crowbar stuck, and he couldn’t pull it out in time to get to the second zombie, a kid about thirteen or so years old. Mark pulled on the crowbar, but only succeeded in burying it deeper. He walked backwards, avoiding the kid, but dragging the dead zombie with him. The zombie kid got closer and Mark swung the dead Z around, knocking the kid down, and burying him under the body.
Mark tugged and tugged, but couldn’t get the crowbar out. The other zombie struggled with the weight and began to get out from under the first. I walked up to the situation, and clobbered the kid with my pickaxe to the head. His struggles ceased and Mark finally managed to get the crowbar out. We wiped off the weapons and kept moving, with only the sound of our heavy breathing permeating the air. I don’t care what anyone says, fighting zombies wears you out. I was in as good a shape as I could be, but this had me breathing heavily. Maybe it was the adrenaline and the fear, mixed in with fighting for your life that took the toll. Whatever it was, I was somewhat spent.
Mark wasn’t in any better shape. He had dragged that Z then swung it around, leaning back and breathing up to the sky, and coughing.