Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Conflict Read online

  The temperature hovered around the freezing mark most of the time, which kept the stiffs both stiff – hee hee – and somewhat fresh. The stink was at a minimum, and with the normal decomposition that begins following true death hindered by the weather, things were less disgusting than they might have been. Granted, many of the bodies had been mauled by zombies or blasted apart by gunfire, and there was plenty of nastiness leaking out of orifices and gaping wounds, but it was bearable.

  Christmas was looking to be much better. We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare – the repairs and cleanup had to be completed first – but our small band was determined to make it as jolly as possible. Johnny in particular needed something cheerful in his life. His parents were dead, and he couldn’t begin to understand why. The poor thing had haunted eyes and a streak of paranoia that no four year old should have to suffer through.

  * * *

  “Lizzy, are you sure the tree isn’t going to fall over?”

  The stout woman glared at Mary. “It won’t. I have it good and secure.”

  “Didn’t stay up the first time.”

  Briana began to laugh.

  “It’s fixed!”

  Lizzy had insisted on a large Christmas tree. I’ll start by saying a freshly cut, fifteen foot pine is exceedingly heavy. Still, we managed to get it inside and upright, securing it by tying the top to the rafters. The damn thing slipped almost immediately, nearly taking Steph out. She was not pleased.

  Following that epic failure, we sawed off the bottom six feet, leaving us with a more manageable nine footer. We set the base in a large bucket, filling the extra space inside with rocks and water to make it as heavy as possible, and strung additional wires from the upper portion of the trunk to the beam directly above. That seemed to work. At the very least, it didn’t wobble too much when Steph gave the tree a good shake to be certain.

  “See, I told you it would stay up.”

  “It better,” remarked Steph, as she headed for the kitchen. The redhead had a large pot of stew simmering.

  “I said I was sorry! Stop being so fucking pissy.”

  “She did apologize,” I added, “twice, which is pretty remarkable considering the source.”

  Mary began to giggle, alongside Briana, and Lizzy swung her eyes between them and me, apparently trying to decide who merited her abuse more.

  “Let’s start decorating, and why don’t we have Johnny put the star on.”

  Briana beckoned for the boy to join us – he’d been sitting in a rocking chair near the fireplace, out of danger in case the tree toppled a second time. “Jacob’s right. It’s your job to put the star on.”

  He looked around. “Where is it?”

  “Right here,” replied Mary. “We made it earlier, just for you.”

  The petite teenager retrieved the decoration from its resting place atop one of the bookcases that lined the walls. Lizzy had cut it from a piece of sheet metal the night before with Mary filing down the sharp edges before covering it with about a dozen layers of aluminum foil. A ribbon passed through a pair of holes in the center allowing it to be secured to the tree. It was a sweet thing to do, and Johnny’s eyes lit up when she gave it to him.

  “Okay now,” continued Briana, “Jacob’s going to put you on his shoulders so you can stick it where it goes. Mary will help tie it because we don’t want it to fall off, do we now?”

  “Nope.”

  “No squishing me,” I cautioned. “You’re very heavy, you know.”

  “Am not.”

  The slightest of smiles formed.

  “Are too. You’re super heavy.” I lifted him onto my shoulders and made a great show of teetering to the side and nearly collapsing. “Oh! So heavy.”

  “Make sure it’s straight,” said Mary, her laughter mixing with Johnny’s. She was perched atop a stool.

  “It’s straight.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Briana. “If it isn’t, Jacob will have to pick you up again, and he might break.”

  “It’s straight,” confirmed the boy, holding the star in place while Mary wrapped the ribbon around the trunk before tying it off.

  “Close enough,” commented Lizzy. “All right, get on down before Jacob really does fall over. You have to start putting up the rest of the decorations anyway. Here you go.”

  “Ooh,” purred Briana, “a Rolex.”

  “Is it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let’s see, bright gold with a huge logo right there on the face. You should be able to recognize the things by now.”

  “I prefer Omegas. You know that.”

  Johnny, who clearly couldn’t care less one way or the other, was quick to loop it over a branch. He then took another from Lizzy. You see, we didn’t have much in the way of traditional ornaments. There were plenty in the nearby towns, both in private homes and at a handful of small Christmas shops we’d come across. However, our early looting priorities had been weapons, food, clothing, and the like. Add in the chaos of the attack and the onslaught of winter and we’d been unable to retrieve any proper decorations. Therefore, we were using jewelry, most of which was found among the raiders’ belongings. I’m not really certain why they were hording such things, but it meant we now had a wood chest full of gold and platinum rings, bracelets, and necklaces, along with coins and bullion. Mary had been telling Johnny it was pirate treasure and we’d have to bury it sometime soon, after we made a map so we could find it again.

  “Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” called Steph. “I think we should do turkey for Christmas.”

  “We don’t have any turkeys,” I pointed out, “just chickens.”

  “That reminds me.” She was standing in the doorway. “We need to move the coops inside the castle. It was okay before, when we had so many people around, but if we leave them by the corrals a wolverine or weasel or something is bound to get in.”

  “We could put one against the wall next to the storehouse,” suggested Mary. “Plenty of space there, and it’ll be out of the way. Plus, we won’t have to worry about zombies showing up every time someone wants scrambled eggs.”

  “Jacob and Lizzy will start tomorrow,” decided Briana. “I don’t see it taking more than a day or two.”

  Steph nodded and returned to her cooking.

  “And…” She stepped close, running a long finger down my chest. “…you can hunt for a wild turkey later, or maybe a goose. We had that once when I was little. It was pretty good.”

  “Or a deer,” countered Mary. “Those taste better. Oh, I know. We can just chop off a chicken’s head and pretend it’s a turkey. That would be way easier.”

  Johnny winced slightly but didn’t stop his decorating. Like most children, he was fond of animals and saw nearly each and every one as a potential pet, but there was no getting around the fact that we kept livestock specifically so the animals could be slaughtered and eaten. He was prohibited from playing with or, God forbid, naming the things. That privilege was reserved for non-edible animals, like horses. All right, so horses are considered food in some parts of the world, but hopefully those nations had all been destroyed. Damn culinary barbarians.

  “Speaking of chickens,” I said, “the animals need to be seen to. Your turn to help Mary.”

  The teenager grabbed her coat and checked her gun. Like everyone else, save Johnny of course, she was armed at all times, generally with a 9mm semi-automatic. I favored a .40 caliber myself. The holes it made were larger, but it was every bit as easy to manage.

  “Take the hatchet,” ordered Lizzy.

  “Ah, come on. We have plenty of ice.”

  “We need more water too.”

  Ignoring Mary’s look of consternation, I collected a pair of buckets.

  “Can’t this wait?” she complained.

  “What we have will be melted by morning,” said Briana. She followed us outside and closed the gate after we passed through. “It’s best to grab some now. Want me to keep a look out?”

  I shook my hea
d. “No. We have a clear view. Nothing’s going to sneak up.”

  “Yeah, you can see everywhere except where the trucks and cars get in the way, the corrals, the fences, the little barn stall thingees we built to protect the animals from the wind, the castle itself, the trees, the occasional bird…”

  “It’s fine Briana. We’ll be back in a little bit.”

  “We’re good,” confirmed Mary, “so get inside before your belly freezes and Jacob starts crying.”

  One hand on her stomach, Briana threw us a smile and turned to go. “Give me a shout when you’re ready.”

  The gate, as always, was barred.

  * * *

  “I’ll feed the horses.” Mary ran her gloved hand across a gelding’s muscular neck. “You can do the goats.”

  I glanced over at the adjacent pen. Several of the animals had developed a habit of ramming anyone who entered their enclosure. Maybe it was time they made their way into the kitchen.

  “Know what would be nice right now?”

  I began filling the trough with hay and oats. “What’s that?”

  “Orange juice, freshly squeezed.”

  “Would be nice, not that it’s going to happen anytime soon.”

  “I can hope, can’t I?”

  “As much as you want. Just about done over there?”

  Mary double checked the latch on the gate. “Yeah. They didn’t eat much today. Think any are sick?”

  “The horses look fine to me, but we’ll have Steph check them in the morning.”

  “So, back inside?”

  “We still need to get the ice,” I reminded her.

  “Do we really have to?”

  “Worried about falling in?”

  “Yes!”

  Such an accident had already occurred, and it had been a miserable experience, both Mary’s immersion in the freezing water and my having to pull her out. I’d also carried her back to the castle where she spent a good four hours sitting directly in front of a roaring fire. Being somewhat less drenched, it only took three before I felt normal again.

  “You’ll do it this time?”

  “Sure thing Mary, I’ll do the chopping. Don’t worry.”

  “Wonderful. I just… Wait.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Something is moving over there.”

  Drawing my pistol, I stepped away from the corral and took a few steps forward. The sun was down at this point. Did I want to go tromping about in the dark? We had flashlights for emergencies, but those tended to attract zombies so we rarely used them.

  “To the left.”

  I saw it then, a figure slowly advancing, unsteadily forcing its way through the foot deep snow. The gait was one we’d come to recognize.

  “Creepy, the way the stars are shining behind it. It’s like a black blob.”

  “That’ll end as soon as I bash it with the hatchet.” I holstered my gun.

  “I want to do it. It’s my turn.”

  Reaching over, I gave her arm a squeeze. “Think you can crush the skull? It takes a good, solid strike.”

  “I’m strong enough.”

  “Maybe… No, go ahead and shoot it instead. No reason to take the chance, and I don’t want you to miss or slip.”

  “The noise could bring others,” she warned.

  “Doubt if there are any. They tend to stay out of the forest, but I’ll keep watch for the first part of the night to be sure. Lizzy can take over after midnight.”

  “Oh, she’ll love that, standing outside in the cold, all alone.”

  Mary’s laugh caught the zombie’s attention, and it shifted direction ever so slightly.

  “Let’s drop it further from the animals. I don’t want them seeing and smelling the body all night. We can drag it into the forest tomorrow morning.” She fell into step beside me. “And by we, I mean you and me. You get to help cart it off. If you can fight, you can deal with the cleanup as well.”

  For a second it appeared Mary was going to protest, but if so she changed her mind.

  “No problem.”

  “This is far enough. Go for it.”

  The thirteen year old took careful aim, and I heard the faint click of the safety being switched off. This would be the first zombie she ever killed. Four months into the apocalypse and the girl had never been forced to fight. She’d been in more than her share of battles, but Mary was always given the responsibility of keeping watch or playing some other support role. Somehow, that seemed so very wrong. Mary pulled the trigger when zombie was ten feet away, an easy head shot.

  “It’s dead?”

  I nudged the corpse with my boot. The thing had once been a man, slightly overweight and balding.

  “Very much so. Let’s get over to the creek and grab the ice before the others come looking for us.”

  * * *

  Lizzy was not at all pleased being handed an early morning watch. Our numbers were too small to maintain a constant lookout, so we generally kept the gate locked, frequently went outside for a quick peek of the area, and hoped for the best. It was only during times when there was a distinct possibility of zombies showing up, such as after guns were fired, that someone was posted on the walls.

  My friend was even less happy that I allowed Mary to kill a shambler, especially while she was absent. From the beginning, Lizzy had been focused on keeping the girl safe, especially after Mary’s older sister, Lois, was murdered. I understand, and I agree with the sentiment. Still, my supervision is every bit as good as Lizzy’s, better even. I’m fairly certain that I’ve dropped more of the beasties than she. Well, maybe not. Actually, I have no idea. I never kept count. At first that seemed morbid. Later, the numbers reached a level where it was pointless.

  * * *

  “Stop rolling around,” mumbled Briana.

  I curled up close and adjusted the heavy wool blankets. Lacking a fireplace, the tiny bedrooms tended to be bitterly cold.

  “Sorry, can’t sleep.”

  “Why ever not?” She yawned. “Rub my back, will you?”

  “So demanding.”

  “Always, and don’t you forget it.”

  Briana sighed as I began.

  “I hope Mary will be okay.”

  Her eyes shot open. “Why wouldn’t she? Did something happen that you didn’t tell us?”

  “Nothing like that. It was… Remember how you felt the first time you shot one? The gut wrenching that comes about because they look like people?”

  “Jacob, they are, I mean were, people.”

  This was one of my least favorite topics.

  “I know Mary’s seen countless zombies get shot or bludgeoned, but it’s different when you do it yourself. Last thing I want is to give her nightmares.”

  Briana hesitated. “You were right to let her kill the thing. It’s past time she started shooting, but don’t tell Lizzy I said so.”

  “Not as much call for it now, not with the snow keeping us from going to Chadron or any of the other towns.”

  “That’ll change, and we have machine guns for when we do go looting in the spring.”

  There were several belt fed weapons stashed about the castle. We’d only fired the guns a few times, primarily to learn how they work and to get a feel for them. They were very different from the hunting rifles we favored for everyday use.

  “They’re way too heavy to be dragging around. Still, I can only imagine what they would do to a zombie, bullet after bullet tearing through the torso, ripping apart the flesh and sending innards flying all over the place. Be messy, but I bet you could cut a body in half in under a second.”

  Briana jerked upright and shoved the blankets aside, desperately trying to get out of bed. She didn’t quite make it.

  “I’m…”

  A hand flew to her mouth, and she managed to scramble past me, making it to a small wash basin before puking a second time.

  “You okay?”

  I switched on the lamp and stripped off my long johns. We kept the generator running, so we had electricity
, with the windows covered at night. It wasn’t ideal. While this helped keep zombies away, the living were harder to fool. Any human being who saw the livestock pens would immediately realize other survivors were present.

  “No, I am not okay!”

  I helped her out of the soiled nightgown and handed Briana a damp cloth so she could clean her face.

  “Pregnancy stuff?”

  “It was your graphic description of zombies being chopped up!”

  “You’ve seen worse,” I countered, softly. “You’ve shot plenty too, scattering brains...”

  Her face went pale, and Briana lurched over the basin yet again.

  “All right,” I amended, “let’s not talk about anything icky or disgusting for the foreseeable future.”

  “Good idea.”

  There was a whole lot of sarcasm in those two words.

  “I’m going grab you a change of clothes.” It was far too cold to be standing around naked, pleasant though the sight was. “Want anything in particular?”

  Briana waved one hand absently. “Just so it’s warm, and no staring at my ass.”

  Of course, my focus immediately shifted to her lovely backside.

  “I said…”

  Briana hadn’t bothered to turn around.

  “I’m entitled to look.”

  She frowned. “Do we have to change the sheets? Please tell me I didn’t make that much of a mess.”

  “Just the top blanket. Everything else looks fine.”

  There was one final round of vomiting, followed by a few dry heaves, before she felt comfortable enough to crawl back into bed. Once Briana was settled, I took the steel wash basin outside and emptied it.

  * * *

  The morning sickness, which could in the alternative be termed all through the day and night sickness, came and went, leaving Briana tired and haggard. Still, there were occasions when she felt well enough to go on patrol. We’d always kept an eye on the forest and surrounding area, but with snow heavy on the ground, the trips were limited to horseback. Even the Jeeps, with their four wheel drive, had a hard time maneuvering.