“In theory, at any rate,” Gilbert countered.
Choi raised an eyebrow. “You got a better idea?”
Gilbert shook his head. “Nope,” he replied dryly, “in fact, this was my idea.”
“That’s true,” Herrera agreed. “But if anybody has a better one, I’m all ears.”
The three other soldiers glanced at each other and then shook their heads.
“Good,” the Corporal replied, and clapped his hands together. “Everybody get candles and a wavy to light them. We leave in five.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dixon watched from the front porch of the safe house as eight men scrambled to secure the makeshift rally point. Several soldiers pushed a car to the top of the road to fill the last gap in the metal wall spanning the space between two houses.
Another soldier stood guard on the opposite side of the wall, watching for trouble. A few moments went by, and he let out a whistle. Two men immediately broke off from pushing the car and ran over to him. They walked across the street to another house where a trio of zombies shambled out from the side yard. With three quick strikes, the threat was eliminated, and they went back to their jobs.
Dixon nodded in approval as Ayers and Hurst approached him.
“We may have an issue,” Ayers said.
Dixon sighed. “Just the words every leader wants to hear,” he replied. “What’s up?”
“The side yards are secure, but the other side of the trees are going to be an issue,” Hurst replied.
“You may just want to come see for yourself,” Ayers added.
Dixon nodded. “All right, lead on,” he said, and then whistled at the guys pushing the car.
They glanced up and he motioned that he was heading down the street, prompting them to give him a thumbs up that they understood.
As the trio walked, Dixon appraised the barricades between the houses. The men had used couches, playhouses, and all things in between.
“Good thing we picked a ritzy neighborhood to squat in,” he said. “Lots of good stuff to pick from.”
Ayers barked a laugh. “Ritzy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he said. “Check out this house on the corner.”
As they walked by the final house, Dixon picked up a flyer from the For Sale sign on the front yard. He recoiled at the price.
“Holy shit,” he said, “you could buy my hometown for this.”
Hurst shook his head. “You could probably buy most of it with just the property taxes.”
“That’s some serious first world problems right there,” Dixon added, and the three men chuckled as they wandered over to the tree line.
It stretched about twenty-five yards before it reached the next neighborhood, which led directly to the docks. They walked into it and came across a fence halfway through. It was chain-link, and about waist high.
Dixon wiggled it a little. “This seems pretty sturdy.”
“That’s not the issue,” Ayers said, and hopped over it. The trio approached the edge of the woods and took a knee at the edge of the woods.
“What am I looking at?” Dixon asked quietly.
Ayers pointed down the street a block or so, and he squinted at it. When it came into focus, Dixon’s stomach dropped.
There were about a hundred zombies in the middle of the road, stretching to a house on the corner.
“Fuck me,” Dixon breathed.
“Looks like something drew their attention, and it never got broken,” Ayers said quietly.
Dixon shook his head. “What about to the north and south of us?” he asked.
“We went a block in each direction, and it’s just stragglers with some small batches,” Hurst replied, “nothing bigger than ten.”
Dixon stared at the threat, wondering how in the hell they’d pull this off without drawing much attention to themselves. “Shooting is out, that’s for sure,” he muttered.
“Why?” Hurst asked. “We have more than enough ammo to take them down.”
Dixon shook his head. “Because we run the risk of pulling the school to us,” he explained, “and we certainly don’t have enough ammo for that, let alone both.”
“Hand to hand?” Ayers asked.
Hurst snorted. “Please, be my guest,” he said. “I’m not holding them up this time.”
“I mean, we can draw them back to the fence line here,” Ayers continued. “We check a few houses, upgrade our weapons. Somebody has to have a baseball bat or something.”
Hurst scratched the back of his head. “Great,” he replied, “but how do we get them up here?”
Dixon glanced over at the yard closest to them, seeing a standalone shed. “Let’s check in there,” he said.
The trio darted out from cover, moving quickly and quietly towards the small structure. When they reached it, they found it locked with a cheap padlock. Hurst stepped forward and smashed it with the butt of his rifle. A few strikes later, and then the entire lock broke off.
They opened it up, staring around at the typical shed material, a few bikes, a lawnmower, tools…
“Now we’re cooking,” Dixon said, picking up a three-gallon can of kerosene. He shook it, noting it was about two-thirds of the way full.
He looked around for a dish, finding a small dog bowl filled with nails and screws. He grabbed it and dumped it on the floor.
“Okay, you boys get back to the fence line,” he instructed. “One of you grab a few of the others and some more weapons, and I’ll bring the zombies to you.”
The soldiers shared a concerned glance.
Dixon rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m a trained professional,” he assured them. “I was doing Jackass-style stunts way before they even had a tv show. Now get moving, they’ll be at the fence before you know it.”
The two men rushed off, and Dixon took the goods and walked down the street towards the horde. There were over a hundred in the road, all focused on one house, paying him no attention at all.
He stopped about twenty yards away, staying as quiet as he could. He gently set down the dog dish and poured in some kerosene, filling it up. He looked up and saw a few of the ghouls
