jacket.
“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.
