White Flag of the Dead (26 page)

“Jesus Christ! Where the hell did that guy come from?” Martin asked as he struggled for breath.

“We better keep an eye out for more.” I said, shifting my weapon to the ready and moving towards the trailer. “See if that thing will start, and if it won’t, jump it from the car. With luck, the gas hasn’t turned bad.”

I headed over to the trailer and looked through the window. I didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean squat. I knocked on the door and listened carefully. Sometimes a ghoul will be sitting quiet, and will galvanize at a noise. But I figured if Martin’s shriek hadn’t roused anything, it wasn’t there. I walked away from the trailer and felt something dragging on my foot. I looked down, and saw Martin’s zombie’s head attached to my heel. It had bit my boot heel and hung on like a pit bull. I dragged it over to a tire rim and stuck it under the corner of the rim. I rolled the rim over its head and forced it off. It continued to stare and snap at me so I picked up the rim and smashed it down on the head. Its struggles ended immediately.

I looked back at the fork truck to see Martin staring at me. I shrugged my shoulders and motioned him to try and start the truck. It turned over but didn’t want to catch. He tried it again and it caught for a second then died. On the fourth try, it turned over and stayed running. I jumped up and gave him a thumbs-up. I ran over to the old truck and wondered if we would be lucky again. I tried the engine, but it refused to even turn over. Okay, time for plan B

I signaled Martin to drive the fork truck over to the side of the truck and see if we could jump the battery. He did, and I retrieved the jumper cables we had in the car. We hooked up the truck and tried to start it again. This time we got turnover, but no dice on the engine starting. I checked the gauges, and realized the truck was out of gas. Martin promptly pushed the truck over to the pump with the fork truck, and I filled the tank, thanking whatever god was still listening that the fuel tank was gravity –fed. I filled the truck and tried starting it again. Imagine my relief when the thing coughed and roared to life. Success!

We pulled the truck around and attached a trailer. It slid off a couple of times before we figured out how to do it right, and then Martin tried his luck putting a cargo container on top. It fell off the first time, but we got it right the second time. I secured it and turned off the truck. Martin turned off the fork truck and immediately we knew something was wrong.

There was a lot of noise coming from the gates, and I couldn’t see through the zombies that were pounding on it. Thank God it was made of steel and the chain was holding. I went over to the Office and grabbed the ladder from the side of the trailer and placed it against the containers that were near the gate. Climbing to the top I hauled the ladder up and climbed up the next container. I stepped up the containers like this until I was on the top container that looked out over the gate.

“Oh, fuck me running.” I said, surveying the scene before me.

“What do you see?” Martin called up to me. “How many are there?”

I looked out on a mass of about fifty of the nasty things, all in various states of decay. When they saw me standing on the top of that container, they set up a collective groan and reached for me. They were funneled into a relatively small area, thanks to the design of the yard, but there was no way we were going to get out of here without a fight. I checked the terrain and saw that they couldn’t get in as long as the gate held, but we couldn’t get out either.

I got back down to the ground and gave Martin the lowdown of the situation. Apparently our riding around had made enough noise to cause the locals to come see who the new neighbors were. Great. If we didn’t deal with this soon, the noise
they
made was going to attract a whole lot more.

We could set up on a container and shoot them, but we may as well set up a flare for every zombie within a five mile radius to come a-looking.

I looked around and took stock of what we had. We could throw fuel on them, but we might need that for the truck. There were some lead pipes over in a corner by the machine shop, and a quick look in the shop showed nothing of use against a horde of the undead. Oh sure, if they stood still long enough we could use the grinders and such, but they seldom were so accommodating.

Martin came up with the best idea. “Why don’t we drop containers on them? The fork truck can easily lift containers over the gate and we can crush them flat.”

Brilliant. He went to work and managed to grab a container lengthwise and hold it over the teeming masses. We had a moment when we realized we couldn’t just drop the containers. But Martin remedied that too, when he tipped the forks forward and the container slid off, crushing about twenty of them. Gross fluids squirted out from under the box. Martin went back for another container and repeated the procedure. The zombies had no idea what was happening, and just stood there to be crushed. There were about ten of them left that we couldn’t reach, so I grabbed a length of pipe and rode the fork truck over the gate and onto the containers.

They were a little lopsided from the goo underneath, but I could still work. The ghouls reached for me and clawed at the top of the container. They couldn’t get a grip, and those that did had no strength to pull themselves up. Perfect. I hefted my pipe and went to work. It was kind of like being at the driving range, in a way.

Martin hauled me back over and we opened up the gate. There was still movement under the containers, and Martin used the fork truck to push down on the containers. He was getting pretty good with that thing. I swear I could hear popping like bubble wrap, and I didn’t want to know what it was. Martin pushed the containers out of the way, and blocked the road to the south. Greasy goo and body parts covered the driveway, and I was reluctant to drive over that mess time and again. Realizing the necessity, I poured gas into a container and covered the infectious mass.

Martin and I checked weapons and gear while the zombies fried. When the fires died completely, we got into the vehicles and headed back to the interstate, remembering to lock the gate behind us. We certainly were going to be back. This first container was the first step in securing our new home, and I was happy to get it there.

As I drove toward the exit, I realized we had no way to get it off the truck. Oh well, we’ll think of something. We always do.

Even though we had a lot of trips to make, every one would make us more secure. I smiled to myself as the plan started to come together. Next step was moving to the new place, and setting up a second sanctuary. Things were looking good, and I worried more than ever. When things looked good, that was usually when the zombies came and bit your face off.

20

It took the best part of four weeks, but we managed to move enough cargo containers to completely encircle the condo complex, the water supply, and the empty acres to the north. I had insisted that one container be placed on its end every ten lengths, to give us a lookout tower. Martin and I spent long hours ferrying cargo containers, and when we managed to get two more trucks running, the process speeded up considerably. As an afterthought, I grabbed the welding supplies from the maintenance shack at the depot, and one of our survivors managed to turn the towers into covered shacks. I thought that was pretty nifty. On one of the return trips, Martin had a burst of inspiration and made a side trip to a boat storage facility. I thought he was nuts until I saw he had managed to secure another big fork truck to help with placing the containers.

The new fence had a profound effect on the community. People spent long hours outside, and our kids ran freely in the sunshine for the first time in months. It was gratifying to see smiling, running children in the midst of this messed up world. It didn’t matter that it was getting cold, the kids still played and ran. For the first time in a long time, people could let their guard down, if just a little bit. Even Jakey perked up by being outside, and for a kid that was perpetually in a good mood, that was something.

People were immediately grateful for the change in living arrangements. We had enough condominiums for everyone to have their own, and the privacy this afforded had a positive effect as well. It was a small return to normalcy that two weeks ago would not have been considered possible.

We still had the occasional zombie wandering around, and they were dealt with pretty quickly. Our barrier was put to the test when a large group of about thirty of them showed up and began attacking the fence. They managed to move a container a few inches before they were stopped, so we decided to add weld points to the containers to prevent that from happening again.

In all, we had a good thing going at this point and were pretty well set up for the winter. All of the condos had fireplaces, so warmth was not going to be an issue. Nate had a group getting firewood from one of those nearby garden centers that had piled it up before the Upheaval, and they were bringing it back by the truckload.

With things pretty well set up, it was time for me to move on to the next part of the plan, which was to set up another safe zone. Nate was going to be left in charge here, and his goal was to expand the fence as much as he could as often as he could. The idea was to cover as much of an area as possible, taking back as much as possible, utilizing natural terrain and land features whenever possible to secure the safe zone. We needed to be self-sustaining for a while, since the zombie’s rate of decay seemed to be up to the individual, we had no choice but to wait a bit. But I was anxious to see about other communities and survivors, and I needed to get going if we were going to have a chance at surviving the winter.

I had had a meeting a few days before, outlining the plan and asking if anyone was willing to come with Jake and myself. I certainly couldn’t force anyone, and it was going to be difficult for anyone to leave the relative safety of the new community, but I had to ask.

To my surprise, Sarah agreed to go, along with Charlie and Tommy. Tommy said he would get lonely without me, and Charlie said someone had to watch my dumb ass. Duncan certainly was not going to get left behind without Tommy, and I was secretly glad the three of us were hitting the road again.

Jason Coleman and his wife Lisa agreed to come with us, and to everyone’s surprise, Kristen Larkin wanted to come with, and her friend Chelsea Forbes wanted to go as well. I could understand it. When the condos were doled out, the girls in the little dorm room had been ‘adopted’ into other families, and I think these two were having the hardest time adjusting. No trouble to me, the more the merrier. I figured Sarah could look after the girls, and they would be well taken care of.

We spent three days getting ready for the trip, and I was vague as to the details of the location. I knew where I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case the place turned out to be a bust. If it was, I had a small backup plan, but that was for worst-case scenario.

We decided to take cars for the trip north, as the cold weather did not make taking bicycles a possibility. We had a lot of bikes, and used them frequently on foraging trips to the nearby homes, but no one wants to take a bike trip in snow. I was driving a small Honda CR-V, with Charlie riding shotgun and Kristen in the back seat with Jakey. Tommy and Duncan were in the next vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, along with Jason and Lisa. Sarah and Chelsea brought up the rear in a Ford F150, with all of our clothes and personal stuff. Our weapons we carried with us, and we drove in full gear. We couldn’t take the chance of not being armed. In a perfect, uninfected world, this trip would take us thirty minutes, depending on traffic. Today, I had no idea what I was going to hit, so I needed to be ready.

Nate caught up to me about an hour before we were supposed to leave. It was a cloudy day, with a brisk wind out of the West. The trees were devoid of leaves, and the ground was that light green color with a lot of yellow mixed in, letting you know that the world was going into hibernation. There were still some people out and about, and I could see two of the towers were manned. The fence was the only indication anything still was wrong with the world, its patchwork of colors and corrugated steel interrupting the landscape.

“You all ready?” Nate said gruffly, always getting to the point. His breath came out in a thick mist.

“Pretty much, just need to get people in the vehicles and rolling.” I replied, checking my gear and clothing. I was grateful for the heavy clothing as the wind tried its best to find every way in to freeze me.

“You know you’re leaving me the two biggest problems I never want to deal with.” Nate said cryptically.

I knew what he was talking about. Kevin Pierce and Frank Stearns had taken up residence as roommates, and one could only guess at the depth of their conspiring. More than once I had regretted not letting the zombies kill Pierce and Stearns, but I wasn’t one for outright murder. I shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I can’t take them with, as they are nothing but leeches, but I may offer you a solution.”

Nate was all ears. I explained about how Frank seemed to be calculating when he learned what was in his pack, and I suggested that Nate send Frank and Kevin out on long-range recon. “Chances are, they will think they are being clever, especially if you and others ride them pretty hard here at home.” I said.

Nate seemed to consider it. “What about Pierce’s boy?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not a factor. He knows his dad abandoned him and his mother, and wants nothing to do with him. He’ll be glad his dad is gone. In all honesty, the way the boy has taken to training, I’d say he was looking to take dad out at some point.”

Nate snorted. “Can’t argue with that. That kid fights like he’s possessed. More than once Carl has complained of bruises and cuts from that little guy.”

“Just keep him focused and try to get him to forget about revenge. He’ll only get killed.” I warned, placing a second handgun in the door basket on the CR-V.

“Got it. By the way, I got something for you, if you want it.” Nate reached into his rucksack and pulled out a radio. “I found these in that old guy’s house we checked out last week. The batteries are good, and the range is supposed to be fifteen miles.”