Tommy’s arm had healed pretty well, and Jason Coleman was nearly fully healed as well. John Reef, our plumber, spent several days figuring out how to turn off the water lines to the uninhabited part of town and focus it to the habitable. He informed me that if we could get a system working where we could get water up to the tower from the river, we could have running water in the homes. I pondered that one, but after a while had to admit I was stumped. I sent the question to Nate and he had nothing for me, either. Nate informed me they would be arriving in about a week, so we had better have some accommodations ready. Nate said sixty people were coming and that was twenty more than I thought. Oh well, we had the homes.
I was keeping busy going house to house, making sure we were alone in our little slice of peace. During the thaw, the zombies that could move again were on the move and they had a weird habit of hiding out and waiting for something to happen. Sarah was helping Rebecca take care of the babies, and gave me more than a little grief for going out alone. But I reassured her I would be fine, that I needed to get this done before Nate arrived. Besides, I wasn’t alone; Mark Wells was coming with me today. He was going to see about establishing a power grid isolated to our immediate area. I welcomed the company and Sarah was satisfied. She gave me a hug before I left and refused to let go until I promised her I would come back.
Mark and I were headed to the far eastern edge of our section of the town. We were going to go house to house and clear out any zombies we found. We weren’t looking for any supplies, but we would mark the houses where supplies and sundries could be found for pickup later. If we found any weapons, we would bring them back immediately, but I didn’t really expect to find any.
With the weather being warmer, we needed to be as careful as ever, since the ghouls were definitely up and running. We stepped down Stephen Street and worked our way to Main Street, which would then take us to our starting point. We passed several homes and businesses, and Mark began to realize just how big of a task we had ahead of us.
“We need to check all these homes?” he said, glancing around as we went downhill. We walked down the middle of the street, not because we could, but to give us the most room in case a zombie was ambling in the alleys. We hadn’t encountered any Z’s yet, but I knew they were around. Sounds where there shouldn’t be sounds and shuffling noises coming from open windows. It felt like the town was watching us, not only the walking dead, but the souls of the people who’d died here. I didn’t get the impression we were not wanted, but rather it was like the town was holding a collective breath, to see if we could actually make a stand here, and come back from possible extinction.
“Yeah, we do. I wouldn’t want to give a home to some family that had zombies under the bed.” I swung my carbine to cover an alleyway, but relaxed as a mouse stepped out, looked at us, then rustled into the weeds. Good luck, little one. I thought. I had switched back to my trusted M1 Carbine, figuring we would be in close quarters mode for a while and the M1A wasn’t really suited for that, being a heavier caliber. Mark was armed with Dane Blake’s Mini-14. He wasn’t needing it anymore. We were also armed with our usual weapons, knives and close-in fighting tools. Over the winter I had taken a shine to Sarah’s little pickaxe, but not liking the short handle, I fashioned one a little longer for extended reach. Mark had the crowbar, so he would be opening the doors.
Mark had taken to the training pretty well, and I trusted him to at least remain steady in case we got into a spot, but he had never gone one on one with a real Z yet. This little walk was as much a test of his ability, as it was of how the zombies had weathered the winter.
We came to an intersection and stopped. A small group of six zombies were slowly making their way down the street. When they saw us, it was like a switch had been turned on, and they immediately began shuffling faster, groaning and reaching. They were desperate after their winter freeze, and wanted us badly.
I wasn’t in the mood to accommodate. I tossed Mark the end of a fifteen foot rope I had with me and we spread out, running at the zombies. The rope took them about waist high, and we tumbled the lot of them. As they struggled to get up, I stepped up and crushed the skull of what might have been a teenager, while Mark nailed a guy in a torn up business suit. A second zombie joined the first as I slammed the pickaxe into the skull of a zombie who was getting slowly to his feet. Mark killed another one then retreated as the remaining two came at him in a rush. He ran down the center of the street, then turned to face his attackers.
Sure enough, one was faster than the other, and they had spread out far enough for him to bury the hook end of the crowbar in the skull of the first zombie. Unfortunately, the crowbar stuck, and he couldn’t pull it out in time to get to the second zombie, a kid about thirteen or so years old. Mark pulled on the crowbar, but only succeeded in burying it deeper. He walked backwards, avoiding the kid, but dragging the dead zombie with him. The zombie kid got closer and Mark swung the dead Z around, knocking the kid down, and burying him under the body.
Mark tugged and tugged, but couldn’t get the crowbar out. The other zombie struggled with the weight and began to get out from under the first. I walked up to the situation, and clobbered the kid with my pickaxe to the head. His struggles ceased and Mark finally managed to get the crowbar out. We wiped off the weapons and kept moving, with only the sound of our heavy breathing permeating the air. I don’t care what anyone says, fighting zombies wears you out. I was in as good a shape as I could be, but this had me breathing heavily. Maybe it was the adrenaline and the fear, mixed in with fighting for your life that took the toll. Whatever it was, I was somewhat spent.
Mark wasn’t in any better shape. He had dragged that Z then swung it around, leaning back and breathing up to the sky, and coughing.
After a minute, we had recovered and were moving again at a steadier pace. We passed several houses and businesses, and made our way to a huge condo complex at the end of the street. Walker Road was the intersection, and on the other side I could see the trench surrounding our portion of the town. While it worked great on keeping any outside zombies from wandering in, it was the ones still on the inside that concerned me. There were a lot of zombies and we had a lot of work to do.
I checked the area around the complex and didn’t see any activity.
“I wonder where all the zombies are?” Mark asked.
“What do you mean?” I said, looking into a garage that had been left open. There were some garden tools, but nothing of interest.
“I mean, this is a town with a population of over thirty thousand. We should have a lot of zombies here.”
I thought about it for a minute as I checked the inside garage door to see if it was open. It wasn’t. “Good question. I guess a lot of these people just bugged out as soon as they could, given their proximity to the interstates and the river and canal.”
“Where did they go?” Mark asked as he stepped up to the door with his crowbar.
I shrugged. “My guess is they went to the state centers. Who knows? I’m sure the ones we run into around here are the ones that got left behind by friends and relatives. This was a big commuter town, with a lot of people living here who worked in Chicago, and we all know what happened there.”
Mark nodded as he worked the crowbar. He and his wife had managed to get out of the city, but he would likely never forget what he had gone through to get out.
The door popped open and we both stepped back. We didn’t hear anything, but that meant nothing. Stepping into the kitchen area, I looked around and motioned for Mark to move forward. He stepped in and headed for the stairs, while I checked the downstairs and the basement. The first floor was clear, and showed signs of a hurried exit. Supplies were scattered around, and some of the items were personal.
I heard Mark moving around upstairs, but he hadn’t called for help, so I figured the upstairs was clear. I headed to the basement door and opened it. Immediately a decaying smell hit me, and I knew something was dead down there. Whether or not it was still moving was another matter. I grabbed a towel from the kitchen and threw it down the stairs. Nothing happened, and I didn’t hear any movement. I then took a fork and threw it down, the metallic clatter ringing up as it hit the concrete floor. Nothing. I stepped down three steps and bent down to look under the wall. I shined my flashlight around and didn’t see anything so I went down the stairs quickly, bringing up my carbine and scanning the area quickly. The basement was cluttered, but nothing was moving. I looked around and saw a shape in the corner. Looking closely, I saw the decomposing body of a dog. I shook my head. They probably thought he would get out on his own. Instead he died waiting for his masters to return.
I felt bad as I went up the stairs, wondering how many pets met their end that way. We had seen them in many homes, and I felt bad about all of them. They didn’t understand why they were abandoned, they just waited to die.
I went back up and met with Mark, who told me the upstairs bedrooms were clear. We went outside and
