I rode up the driveway and headed south, riding up to the south entrance. I saw a lot of new life in the woods and I was glad on a certain level that the earth was taking back what it could, given this limited opportunity. I couldn’t say for certain if humans were going to make a comeback, but for the immediate future, I think we reached an acceptable compromise.
After a mile I cleared the trees and saw our barricade. The grass hadn’t completely covered it yet, but I could see the weeds were making plenty of headway. We made no attempt to fortify the hill. I figured in time it would become brush covered and zombies never fared well in the brush. To my left and right was farmland and we used what we could take care of, growing vegetables and what not. We had planted some apple and pear trees, but they would take a while before they bore fruit. Right now we foraged for our fruits, getting what we could from salvaged cans. There was supposed to be an apple orchard around here somewhere, but I never did find it.
I rode up to our gate and stopped, taking a moment to pass through and re-lock it on my way out. Not that I was worried about anyone coming to steal something. We didn’t have that kind of problem these days. But occasionally a lone ghoul or three wandered around and they needed to be kept out.
I rode west on Route 71, taking in the cool morning air and the quiet countryside. The open fields to my left contrasted nicely with the forested lands to my right and the morning dew was not quite gone, so the world had a pleasant washed look to it. I turned south onto State Road 178 and pedaled quietly for another two miles.
I was nearly at the entrance when a little zombie came tearing out of the roadside ditch, right in front of me. I swerved sharply to avoid it, then looked back as it struggled to chase me down. It was a young boy, probably no older than ten, although it was hard to tell. His skin was badly decayed and great rents in his clothing and tissue told of a tragic, painful end. His face was twisted in a snarl as he pursued me and I had to give him credit, he was far faster than his older contemporaries. The skin around his mouth was torn away, usually an indication that he had been dead for a while and had feasted often.
I pedaled to the entrance to Matthiesson and stopped the bike, hopping off and heading back to the road where the little zombie was slavering away and closing in fast. I stepped onto the road and unslung my rifle. Ordinarily, I would take a lone zombie out with my pickaxe or knife, but I never took chances with the faster ones. Get them down, then finish them off any way you could.
I aimed my rifle at his stomach as he moved towards me, then waited until his head filled my sights. The gun barked once, sending a. 223 caliber bullet through the young boy’s face, blasting his head apart and sending him sprawling backwards. I had a brief thought about this boy’s parents, but pushed it away as I thought about Jake.
I walked over to the body and made sure it was dead. Dragging it over to the ditch, I unceremoniously tossed the small body in, squirted it with kerosene from a small squeeze bottle, then lit it up. I watched the body catch fire and when I was satisfied it would be fully consumed I walked back over to where I had left my bike. I was just in time to see Charlie step from the trees that lined the small road to the park.
“Did you get him?” he called over to me.
“Little runner? Yeah, I got him,” I called back as I headed over to Charlie.
“Runner? I’m looking for a crawler. There was a runner?” he asked.
I stopped dead in my tracks. “Where’d you see a crawler?”
“Around here somewhere. It’s like he fell in a hole or something.”
“Did you stand?” I asked, referring to a zombie hunting method of standing still on a small rise and making noise to attract the crawlers. Once they revealed their position, you put them out of their misery. Or yours.
“Look around. Where could I stand?” Charlie sounded agitated.
“How about the road? There’s ditches on both sides,” I pointed out.
“Didn’t think of that,” Charlie mumbled, chastened. He headed over to the road and crossed to where I was standing.
“Runner, hey?” he asked. Charlie was a big guy, nearly as tall as I was but broader. He had lost his family to the Upheaval, but managed to rebuild much of his life by marrying again and adopting a little girl we had rescued. He and I had been through as much as anyone could have expected and by God’s grace and a load of luck, we were still around to battle the bad guys. If a better man existed to watch my back, I had yet to meet him. I trusted Charlie with my life, and the lives of my loved ones. If something ever happened to me, I knew Charlie would gladly raise Jake and do a damn fine job of it.
“Yeah, the little wiener came out like a yapping dog and I needed to take him down. Why the kids are fast is still a mystery to me,” I replied.
“It’s creepy,” Charlie said. “I get the slow ones, the virus trying to keep things going and not really doing so well, but the fast ones don’t make sense. And why just the kids? It’s messed up.”
“Yeah, I know, but if we wanted to start with the dead coming back to life in the first place…” I trailed off as I saw movement in the tall grass by the trees to my left. I brought my weapon up as Charlie loosed a tomahawk from its holder. We moved silently across the grass and waited. I whistled for a minute and finally grey-black hands slowly emerged from the edge of the small clearing, snaking out as if they were testing the new open space.
The skeletal hands clawed at the earth as they sought purchase to pull the rest of the body along. I say body loosely, since the zombie was nothing more than an upper chest, arms, head, and about a foot of backbone. The rest was simply gone, torn away, probably eaten. I had seen things like this before. Survivors trying to escape zombies by attempting to crawl through an opening too small for them. They get stuck, then they get eaten alive. Once the rest of the body no longer hinders forward progress, the zombie top can roam free. Generally speaking.
This one was very decayed and the dragging had worn away the leftover skin on the chest until white bone gleamed as it pulled itself forward. I had no idea if it was male or female, old or young. It just kept pulling itself slowly forward, locking its dead eyes on us. Its mouth opened to groan, but without lungs, that wasn’t going to happen.
Charlie stepped up quickly to it and with a single chop of his ‘hawk, turned off this zombie’s lights for good. He wiped the blade off in the grass, wiping it again with a small bit of rag we all carried with us for that express purpose. Even after two years, the virus was still deadly and would kill us quickly if we didn’t take precautions.
“Any others?” I asked, as Charlie tucked away his weapon.
“Just a couple of loners. Actually, I expected more, since this is the first really warm spring day that we’ve had,” Charlie said.
I nodded as I retrieved my bike and Charlie went to retrieve his. “Every time I start to think maybe they’re starting to thin out and decay away, another one shows up to make a liar out of me.”
“Sad, but true,” Charlie said. “The stuff I found is this way.” He rode his bike down the access road to the state park, passing by a small parking lot and picnic area. The place looked a little forlorn, as the weeds and grass hadn’t been controlled in a couple years, but in a few more years, unless you looked really hard, you’d never know there was anything here in the first place.
We pedaled into the bigger parking lot that went up to the main visitor area, then circled around to the large wooden fort that had been a visitor favorite for years. It was supposed to represent the exploration of the area, but no real fort had ever been there. It was a big building, nearly two stories tall, with small windows and a narrow stairway leading to the second floor. Properly provisioned, it would make a decent temporary shelter from roving bands of the undead. Long term, though, it was not a good place.
Charlie swung off his bike and took his rifle off his shoulder. His AR was similar to mine, except he had changed out the upper for a flattop version with a bull barrel. He could hit things a little farther out than myself. I preferred closer work with my AR. For long range stuff I used my M1A.
Taking my carbine off my back, I leaned my bike against the building and nodded to Charlie that I was ready. We entered and as my eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, I saw what made Charlie call this one in. There was a backpack in the corner, a small plastic bag of foodstuffs and bottled water, a long pole, and a hatchet. Everything was arranged for quick pickup in case of attack. I climbed the stairs and looked around, seeing a blanket on the floor and a flat rock with charred twigs, the remnants of a tiny fire.
I went back downstairs and nodded again to Charlie. “You’re right, someone is using this place.”
“How many?” Charlie asked, looking around again.
“If I had to guess, I’d say they were travelling alone. I don’t see any signs of another person, although I could be wrong. I have been before,” I said, anticipating Charlie’s response.
I wasn’t disappointed. “Really? You? No, really?” Charlie snorted, shifting his rifle and raising his eyebrows to
