none, I went to the garage door and turned the handle. Still locked. I reached down to my knife sheath and unsnapped the small pouch that held the sharpening stone for the knife. Pulling out the stone, I reached into the pouch again and pulled out the key I had stashed there months ao.
Showing the key to Sarah, she just grinned and shook her head at me. I opened the door and let the light spill into the garage. My car was still there, the tires a little lower, but still drivable. I signaled to Sarah to pull the truck into the garage, as I did not want to leave it outside in case someone went by and decided he wanted the generators more than we did. After I had pulled down the door, I looked around and went over to the tool wall. Grabbing an axe and hatchet, as well as a hand saw, I put them into the bed of the truck. As an afterthought, I put in the kukri machete I had bought to control the runaway English Ivy that tried every year to choke out the lilies. Sarah eyed that machete, and decided she liked it better than her knife. I smiled and said nothing.
I went to the garage door that led to the house, and using the same key, unlocked the door. I hesitated for a second, more by habit than anything else, then opened the door. I had my gun out, because the experience of the last several months had conditioned me to distrust appearances. On the outside, my house seemed the same way I had left it. But the inside could house horrors and I was fooling myself if I didn’t think it was possible.
I stepped inside and quickly looked around. The overcast skies did not allow much light in the best of circumstances, and my barricaded windows allowed even less. But even in the gloom, I could see that the house had miraculously survived intact. Everything was exactly as I had left it when Jake and I had fled, hoping to escape the worst of the zombie hordes. Looking at the house, I wonder if I had made the right decision.
I was prepared for the house to be destroyed, and I was prepared for the house to be looted. What I was not prepared for was the flood of memories and feelings that surged as I moved around the house. I went upstairs and looked in on the bedroom Ellie and I had shared. I gently closed the music box where she had always put her rings when she went to work. I stopped in Jakey’s room, looking at the small crib and dresser, and the rocking chair that I had spent so many nights in. I looked into the front bedroom that Ellie and I had planned to give to Jake when he graduated to a “big-boy bed.” I went back downstairs to find Sarah looking around the family room, taking in the pictures and looking around. “Nice place. Where did you find the wood for the windows and doors?.” was all she said. I sighed. “It was, once. I used the wood from my porch. There’s a lot of memories here.”
“I’ll bet. Good idea, by the way. It explains a lot.” Sarah said. She was being more quiet than usual, and I had a suspicion about what was bothering her, but I wasn’t going to address it today. Not the time nor the place. But I did know what I needed to do.
“I am going to go downstairs and get what ammo and guns I left here when I bugged out. Do you want to come down and grab the food and water I left here?” I asked.
Sarah seemed to shake herself out of her mood. “Sure.”
We went downstairs and it was so dark we needed to use a flashlight. I led the way to the back area, pushing the cabinet aside and revealing the opening to the room under the garage. I used my knife to scrape away the caulk I had put in, and Sarah looked over my tools as I worked.
“I didn’t know you were handy.” She said, running a hand over my tool belt and miter saw.
I answered from the floor. “Yeah, I picked up a lot from my dad and grandpa. I was taught to try and fix something myself before I called a professional and spend hard earned money. I had a lot of unfinished projects that used to drive Ellie nuts.”
Sarah murmured to herself, but loud enough for me to pick up, “I never knew her name.”
Finishing with the caulk, I removed the first piece of wood, then went to work on the second. It came out in a minute and I slipped into the gloom of the room, lighting my way with the flashlight. I showed Sarah the water bottle supply and she immediately began bringing cases up to the truck. I went to my safe and opened it, after spending a minute trying to remember what the combination was. Opening the safe, I pulled out the cases of ammo for the M1 Carbine, all of the reloaded ammo for the SIG, and the boxes of. 22 ammo. I hauled it all upstairs, bumping into Sarah on the way down, whose eyes opened wide at the haul.
Passing Sarah again on my way down to the room, I went and grabbed my Walther PPK and my GSG-5. 22 rifle. Tucking the Walther into my pocket, I put the GSG-5 into a rifle case with its extra magazine, and brought it out, bumping into Sarah once again. I put it in the truck and went back to grab the plastic bins of clothes that Ellie and I had for Jake which we had inherited from my brother. Jake was running out of clothes and these would be just about ready for him.
I passed Sarah one last time, grabbing my Winchester and bringing up my extension cords. I had four of them, and they should be enough for our purposes. Heading out into the garage, I realized we had seriously loaded the truck. The bed was full and the back seat was full as well.
I went back into the house and stood in the kitchen looking around. Sarah came in from the garage and stood by the door. Her eyes met mine and I could see she was impatient to go.
I didn’t want to leave, not yet. But I couldn’t stay. There was nothing for me here. Sure, I could live here and survive, and Jake could survive, but that would be all we would be doing. We wouldn’t be living, just scavenging an existence on the fringe of oblivion. And what would happen to Jake if I was to pass from infection or illness?
I looked at Sarah. “Anything you want from upstairs? You’re about the same size as Ellie, except a bit thinner.”
Sarah scowled for a minute, then a thoughtful look came over her face. She went upstairs and came down a few minutes later with an armful of clothes. I followed her lead and went and grabbed a lot of clothes for myself, mostly cold weather stuff, but also essentials like jeans and cargo pants and sweatshirts.
Heading out to the garage, I found Sarah stuffing the clothes into a garbage bag. Doing the same, we tossed our booty into the truck bed.
“We need to get going, the weather is getting bad.” Sarah said, pointing to the large snowflakes that were starting to come down.
“You got it. I have one more thing to do.” I said. I went back into the house with a puzzled Sarah following. I went to the fireplace and took down the picture of myself, Ellie and a two month old Jake. What we didn’t know then, I thought, my heart suddenly heavy. I stared at the picture then replaced it with a sigh. I straightened up and took my wedding ring off my finger. I put it on the mantle next to the picture and patted the picture, much the same way my grandfather patted the coffin of my grandmother when she passed away. It was a final goodbye, and I was doing the same to the life I once had. This was my house, but it would not be my home for a long time, if ever. I had work to do. My dad hated funerals, his thought on it being “The dead are dead. They don’t care about us and we shouldn’t cry about them.”
I turned around and Sarah turned towards the garage, but not before I could see her eyes were moist. I smiled to myself and noticed that my step was a bit lighter and I actually felt better than I had for a while.
27
Sarah was in the passenger seat and I went to the garage door. Opening it, I got a shock when I saw 6 people standing in my driveway. I recovered quickly and swiftly drew my SIG, taking a bead on the closest male. He was carrying a pump shotgun, and though it was pointed downward, I was taking no chances.
His eyes got wide and he threw up hand, the people behind him putting up their hands as well. Sarah had seen me throw down in the mirror and was out of the truck in a flash, drawing her gun and aiming at the group as well.
“Whoa! Whoa! We’re friendly! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he cried, stepping back and getting in front of the woman next to him. The family behind him tucked their children away and looked fearfully at Sarah and I.
I have to admit, we probably looked pretty fearsome in our gear, with knives and guns and backpacks with blunt weapons. I held my gun on the man with the shotgun, and looked him over. He looked to be about five ten, roughly forty-five or fifty, with a lean look about him and asked “Who are you and what do you want?”
The man with the shotgun swung it down so it was hanging by his side. “My name is Mark Wells, and this is my wife Teri.” His wife smiled weakly. “The family behind me is Bill and Sally Kowalski, and those two youngsters are Jenny and Tim.” Bill looked like he had held a desk job all his life, with a slight paunch and balding head. His wife was thin and haggard, like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Their kids were thin and
