The Reckoning - 02 (5 page)

             
“I’m not sure,” I said, “but I intend to find out.”

             
“Then I’m going with you.
Those boys mean the world to me, too.
I’ll never forget how Karen cooked for me and fussed over me after my Katie passed.
You guys are the only family I have.”

             
“OK, Gunny,” I said, grinning. “You’re in.
Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

             
We went upstairs to his bedroom and he led me to his gun cabinet.
Inside was another AR-15, an old M-1 Garand with a scope on it and a lever action Henry with the octagonal barrel.
Beside them were his two shotguns.
One was a Mossberg 590 12 gauge with the extended tube and the other was something I’d been envying since he bought it.
It was one of the brand-new Keltec shotguns.
He also had a pair of Mil-Spec Springfield Arms .45’s.

             
The Keltec shotgun was an amazing piece of hardware. It was a bull pup configuration tactical shotgun that held more ammo than any other pump shotgun on the market. The dual tube system allowed it to hold seven rounds in each tube and one in the pipe. That gave it fifteen rounds of lethal twelve-gauge fury to unleash on the mobile dead.

             
“What caliber is the Henry?” I asked.

             
“Same as that old Colt on your hip,” he replied, gesturing at my gun. “It’s a .45 long.”

             
“Do you have any ammo for it?” I asked, hopefully. “I’m almost out.”

             
“I keep at least a thousand rounds on hand for every weapon I own.”

             
“
Out-fucking-standing
, Gunny!” I said, happily. “I swear I could kiss you.”

             
“I thought you were Army, not Navy,” he replied, chuckling.

             
“We’ll load the guns and ammo into Karen’s blazer and drive out of here,” I said.

             
“I think there’s something you might want to see before you go through with that plan, son,” he said, shaking his head.             

             
He motioned for me to follow him.
We went up into his attic, to a louvered window that faced the direction of town.
Opening the window, he handed me a pair of well-worn binoculars and gestured out the window.
I took them and started scanning the trees and then followed the road.
At first, I didn’t see anything. Then I found what he was concerned about.

             
Near the crossroads about a mile down the road was a mob of hundreds of zombies, possibly thousands.
They were milling around near the water at the entrances to the subdivision and the marina.

             
“Oh shit,” I muttered. “There’s no way we’re driving through that.”

             
“So what’s the plan?” asked Gunny.

             
“Hell, Gunny,” I said, “I don’t see any choice but to take a boat to the far side of the lake.
We can go ashore at the end of the bridge, but we’ll be on foot from there.”

             
“Sounds like a
goat-fuck
, to me.”

             
“Pretty much,” I agreed. “We’re damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.
We’ll find some wheels once we cross the lake.”

             
“Good,” he replied. “I’m too damned old to hump a rucksack all the way to Springfield.”             

             
“I ain’t exactly looking forward to it, either.
Let’s load up the guns, ammo and whatever supplies you have and get back to the boat.”

             
We spent the next half hour loading gear for transport.
He had a digital camouflaged rucksack with an Alice frame.
I commandeered that, on the spot.
Myron just grinned at me and pulled its twin out of his closet.
We loaded the guns into a black nylon range bag that said US Marines on the side.
I grabbed the Keltec shotgun and started stagger loading it with buckshot and slugs.

             
“You like that shotgun?” asked Gunny, smiling.

             
“Oh yeah,” I replied. “I’ve wanted one since they first came out, but Karen wouldn’t let me spend the money on one.”

             
“It was expensive, but well worth the money,” he said, smiling.

             
“I’ll be good to her,” I said, working the pump to chamber a round and then sliding another into the tube to replace it.

             
“Keep it,” he said. “I was planning on giving it to you for your birthday, anyway.”

             
“Thanks, Gunny,” I said. “I’ll have to get you something nice for yours.”

             
“Let’s live that long, first.”

             
“Solid plan, Gunny.”

             
Then he tossed me a black disc with 550 cord tied to it.
I caught it and examined it.
It was an old military issue lensatic compass.
With the computer networks down, the GPS systems would follow suit.
If I planned on navigating, I’d need a good compass.

             
“Thanks, Guns,” I said. “Don’t you need this for yourself?”

             
“Got one just like it around my neck,” he replied. “I think we should both have one.
I always said a man couldn’t go wrong with a good compass. I always keep a spare, just in case.”

             
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
We carried all the gear out onto the back porch.
The backyard was still clear of zombies, so we opened the screen door and loaded the wheelbarrow.
Then Myron locked the back door and secured the screen door with a zip tie.

             
“No sense leaving it open,” he said.

             
“True enough,” I agreed. “You want to drive the wheel barrow or cover me while I do it.”

             
“I’ll let you do the grunt work, youngster,” he said, grinning.

             
I liked the sound of that.
At the department, I was the
old man
.
Hanging around with Myron made me feel young.
So, I grinned at him and lay the Keltec in easy reach on the wheelbarrow and grabbed the handles.
Myron checked the load on his AR and nodded.
Then he shouldered his weapon and headed out in front of me.

             
“I’ll take point,” he muttered, and moved off slowly.

             
I followed behind him as he checked around the corner of the house.
When he nodded and moved off, I followed.
Odin kept pace beside me, his nose working constantly and his ears perked for any sign of trouble.
The wheelbarrow was heavy, but not so much that I couldn’t keep up with Myron.

             
As we neared the edge of my sister-in-law’s house, Myron put his fist up signaling me to stop.
I did so without hesitation, setting the wheelbarrow down and reaching for the shotgun.
Myron leaned back and locked eyes with me.
Then he held up one finger, indicating one target.
I nodded and pulled out my hammer.
Myron nodded approval and I moved up to the edge of the house.

             
Just at the front bumper of my wife’s blazer was a zombie.
Its back was to me and it seemed to be looking into the car.
It had once been a woman and I thought I recognized her.
I looked quizzically at Gunny and gestured towards it.

             
“Its old lady Hatcher from down the road,” he whispered. “You know, the old bitch with the goats.”

             
I remembered her.
She called the local sheriff every time my kids rode their bikes anywhere near her house.
She even called the county commissioner on me, trying to get me cited for working on my boat on my sister-in-law’s property.
It didn’t work.
I never liked that old battle-axe.
I almost smiled as I snuck up behind her and readied the hammer.             

             
Just before I got into range, my boot crunched on the gravel and she turned around quicker than I expected.
I was still ten feet away when her milky eyes locked on me like the target lock on a fighter jet.
One of her cheeks was missing and one eye hung slightly out of its socket.
She opened her mouth and her blackened lips pulled back over broken teeth.
My mind screamed out the warning.

             
“
Shrieker!
”

             
Old lady Hatcher let forth with a blood-curdling shriek that nearly made my ears bleed.

             
“Run!” I yelled over my shoulder.

             
I turned quickly and threw the hammer.
It flew true and struck the old bag right in the forehead, knocking her over backwards and onto the hood of the blazer. Instantly, the hideous shriek ceased.
I ran forward and retrieved the hammer, then turned and sprinted towards the back of the house.
Myron was already half-way to the dock pushing the wheel barrow as fast as he could, with Odin right on his heels.

             
I caught up with them as they reached the end of the dock and I could already see about a dozen zombies rounding the corner of the house.
We only had a couple minutes before they’d be on us.
As he reached the end of the dock, Myron turned and threw his AR at me and I caught it with my left hand.

             
“Cover me while I load the
gawd-damned
boat!”

             
“Got it,” I replied, turning to face the coming crowd of zombies.

             
There were close to forty of them now, with the lead dozen or so being made up of
Sprinters
.
I engaged them first.
My first shot took the leader, a gray-skinned redneck with over-alls and a bloody t-shirt, right in the neck.
It wasn’t a kill-shot, but it did knock it down.
That was just as good, because it took two more down with it in a tangle.
I ignored them and concentrated on the ones that were still running.

             
My second shot was better.
It struck a teenage girl, with an arm that ended in a ragged stump, right in the forehead. She dropped like a stone.
My next two rounds dropped their targets, but I didn’t have time to do more than register the hits.
They were closing fast, and we were running out of time.

             
“Get in!” shouted Gunny. “We’re clear!”

             
I backed towards the end of the dock, firing as I went.
When I got to the edge of the dock, I turned and jumped into the raft just as Gunny gave a big shove and we slid away from the dock.
We both grabbed oars and pulled for deep water.
Behind us, I could hear splashes as several
Sprinters
failed to stop at the end of the dock. Quickly, we were almost twenty yards from the dock and getting farther away by the second.

             
A hungry crowd of zombies gathered on the end of the dock, trying frantically to find a way to get to us.
Some primitive fear kept them from stepping off into the water, at least on purpose.
Whatever kept them at bay, I was grateful for it.
We’d made it clear, for now.
As we pulled alongside the
Caitríona,
I felt a little more relaxed.
We’d be safe on board the boat.
There was no way they could reach us.

             
As we transferred our bags of equipment to the boat, I glanced back over my shoulder.
The swarm of zombies was still there and more were coming by the minute.
I hoped that once we were clear, they’d lose interest in us.
I got the feeling from watching them that they’d stay there until the end of time, unless something else caught their attention.
I felt a sense of remorse for the poor bastard that did.