I grimaced. Mr. Wilkinson was another of my dad’s friends who worked at the plant. He was also on duty the day that Fannie Mae’s dad had died and I’d heard him and my father make jokes about her father’s arm getting stuck in the machine after they tied a few on. They seemed to think getting pulled into the machinery was funny.
“No,” I said finally. “I haven’t seen dad since Thursday when I got home from school and mom wasn’t home when me and Barrett got home last night. I have no idea where anyone’s at.”
“Well that’s a good thing, Duke. Maybe they’re safe in town somewhere.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, flashing on to mom in her shroud on her bed. “Hey,” I said suddenly, realizing something. “Where’s your gun?”
“My gun?” He looked at me confused.
“Yeah. Your gun,” I said. “What you’re supposed to be protecting us with.”
“Oh,” he waved that off with his hand, “all the guns are with the men in front. I don’t need one back here.”
I was flabbergasted. “Then what kind of weapon do you have back here?”
He cackled, “Um, I’ve got my bottle, I guess.”
My jaw dropped to the floor and I turned around quickly, before I beat him senseless. I stalked around the house after that, seeing hole after hole. Sure, Washington had men at every window, but they weren’t shoring up the windows at all and these weren’t exactly shatterproof. One good whack with a zombie hand would take care of these windows. The men at the front door were the only ones who seemed to be taking things seriously, and they had the easiest job of it. The front door was a mass of solid wood with a heavy lock on it. If the zombies wanted to come in through that it’d take a lot of power to get it open.
I opened the door to the basement and stopped on the top stair. Talk about darkness. The heavy darkness filled the gaping hole before me and lay there like a pall of night. I backed up the one step and turned around, jumping about four feet in the air when I saw that Washington stood before me. Well, not really, but you know.
“Jesus Christ, Washington! What are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?”
He had a pinched look on his face. Either his headache was getting to him or he was pissed. “I was about to ask you the same question, Duke. You’re stalking around here like a nut and scaring people. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m just making sure this place is sealed up tight. Want to make sure the zombies can’t get in here, you know?”
He sighed and crossed his arms on his chest, giving me a withering look. “Uh huh. And what’s your professional opinion?”
I pointed behind me at the darkened stairwell. “I haven’t checked the basement yet. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll tell you?”
He turned and looked down the hallway, checking out the front. “All right, Duke.”
Fortunately for me he decided to lead the way down to the basement. I didn’t really feel like being the one to test the waters first on that one. He flicked on the light switch and we both looked down as the flickering light bulbs came on. It was feeble light, but I guess at least it was light.
We made quick work of the stairs and entered the basement proper. It was supposed to be our tornado shelter if we ever had enough notice about one coming. As I’m sure you well know tornados head for trailer parks like a bee for honey so the shelter got used a lot. Usually my parents didn’t feel like making the trek over here and just wanted to hunker down inside and wait the tornados out, but we’d actually come in here at least a couple times that I could remember.
There was a huge stack of blankets in one corner; carbon copies of the blankets being handed out upstairs. Another corner held a stack of mats like they use in gym class at school. I guess in the absolute worst case scenario those would be used for sleeping, although the cement floor looked more comfortable. Stacks of food and water bottles were arranged throughout the rest of the basement.
Smack in the middle of the far wall lay the door to the walkout. This was what I had remembered and why I’d wanted to come down here. I pointed at it, “Is that locked from the outside or is it wide open?”
He frowned, “I’d forgotten about that stupid thing. It’s got a padlock on it. I’ve got the key right here.” He patted his hip pocket absently.
I whirled to face him, my concern showing plainly on my face. “You want to hear my security issues, Washington?”
“Yep,” he nodded. “You’re what? 16? Give me your professional opinion.”
I had to count to three to keep from screaming at him. Jabbed my finger in the direction of the walkout again. “Case in point. You should have someone watching this door like a hawk. Two someones. All your security should be working in pairs in case something happens and he gets attacked. The other one can run off and warn the rest of us.”
“What’s wrong with that door, Duke? Huh? It’s padlocked from the outside. Sure, I forgot about it, but that’s okay. We’re still safe. Nothing’s come in it yet.”
“Yet,” I said. “Yet.” I dragged him closer to the door. It was one of those ones you always see in movies set in rural America that lay parallel to the ground. You’d go up four or five steps and then your head would be pushing against the top of it. Then you’d push it out above you and be level with the ground.
“Look at it,” I commanded. “Sure it’s got a padlock on it, but have you ever tried to stand on it? How much weight do you think that door could stand before it would just shatter into tiny little bits?”
He looked at me. If I was lucky that expression on his face would be one of growing concern. But I don’t think I’d gotten through to him yet. “I don’t know, Duke. A thousand pounds?”
I nodded. “Okay. How many zombies do you think it would take to reach a thousand pounds? Five? Ten? Once they realize we’re in here all they’d have to do is stand on that, it’d shatter, and then they could get in.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point,” he said, looking at the door speculatively. “I’ll send Graham down here to watch it.”
I growled in frustration. “You’re not getting it, Washington. What happens when they come bursting through it and surprise him and kill him before he can warn us? Then the next thing you know they’re streaming up the stairs and we’re all dead. You need to have your guards watch in pairs.”
“Fine,” he said, getting pissy. “I’ll have the men at the doors watch in pairs. We don’t really have a lot of men to spare, Duke. In case you didn’t notice.” He paused. “Anything else?”
I could tell I was pushing him too far, but I knew he had to know everything. “Your men at the doors all need to be armed. I don’t care how you re-distribute the weapons, but they all need to have something. They’re our first line of defense and if they have nothing then we’re all screwed.”
He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off again. “And another thing. Some of them don’t seem to be taking this seriously enough. Half the men at the windows are barely looking out. What do you think would happen if a zombie crashed through one of those things? You need to barricade the windows as best you can. And the back door.”