Before dawn two days later, Vince left the compound pulling a D-9 Caterpillar bulldozer. Albert and Vince said the heavy-duty ripper attachment on the back of the dozer was the right tool for removing the densely rooted growth we anticipated. Brian Jones rode with Vince; Brian had volunteered to learn to repair and operate heavy equipment. I felt sorry for the boy. Within five years, give or take a few depending on fuel supply and parts availability, his chosen profession would disappear. Machines like the D-9 would mar the landscape for many generations as useless and abandoned, rusty hulks of a bygone era.
Four more trucks and trailers formed the convoy behind Vince and Brian. They were the first contingent moving to our new homesite. Maria Gonzales drove a truck that pulled a lowboy trailer with a rubber tired backhoe and attachments chained to it.
My family would leave in three days along with the remaining people making the move. Silently, I prayed the weather would remain mild and we could accomplish the work needed to complete our move by the end of the year. We were entering the third week of October. November and December would set the stage for our success or failure. I knew the people in our group well and believed in them. If what we had planned could be accomplished by anyone, my friends would rise to the occasion.
Shane drove the next morning. We were on a procurement run to locate a supply of extra lithium batteries for the 18-watt DeWALT power tools. Since Shane voiced the idea of extending their useful life, we wanted a large supply of spare batteries and chargers to last several years. He'd specked out the requirements for the generator we'd take to our new site, and we'd look for that while we were out.
We'd talked at length about the relocation plan the group agreed to put in motion as we tried to foresee every possible obstacle we could have overlooked. I made several notes of ideas to streamline that planned execution based on our discussion.
Our route took us through the abandoned downtown area of Des Moines. The conversation petered-out, and I stared out the side window at the devastation. Disheartening was the best description I could use to describe the bleakness of driving through what had been a thriving commercial area. Buildings on each side of the road had fallen into ruin after ten years of neglect. Broken windows and smashed entrance doors didn't begin to capture the sheer horror of the zombie onslaught as the population was attacked and annihilated.
Shane snapped me out of my lethargic state, "Looking for zombies?"
"Not really. From what our crews have reported, zombie sightings are becoming uncommon even in the big cities. I figure we and they might have reached parity in numbers."
Shane made a left turn. "One thing I've noticed this morning is the lack of any animals. No dogs, cats or wildlife of any kind. A few years ago, we'd at least see a rat, a dog, or a cat now and then. Just like at home, the zombies apparently have consumed everything they can catch."
We'd left the main business area on our route past the airport. Buildings gave way to open areas, highway overpasses, and occasional buildings off the highway. Tall grass and weeds grew along the roadway on land that had previously been mowed routinely.
Shane said, "Look, straight ahead." He eased up on the gas and gently brought the truck to a stop in the middle of the highway. We stared through the windshield at a scene we'd watched more often than we liked to recall.
Several naked zombies, about three hundred yards ahead of us on our right, ran toward the highway. A female led, and three others followed in a dead run, pushing through the waist-high growth. As we watched, I opened my door before I heard Shane open his. I rested my rifle on the window opening and peered through the scope. "The one in front is faltering, she appears to be injured and is about to be passed."
"I see that but look at how skinny the other three are. They look like emaciated Jewish prisoners from the Nazi Holocaust."
The group crossed the right lane of concrete, but before they reached the grassy shoulder the lead zombie stumbled. Two males and a female fell onto the scrambling female and attacked her ferociously. The injured zombie screeched and fought to escape, but the attacking trio hounded her as they bit and clawed at her flesh.
Shane spoke, barely audible, "I'll be damned. They're eating their own. Hunger has driven them to cannibalism; it's survival of the fittest."
Before shooting, I said, "I'll take the two on the right."
All four were unmoving before we drove to them, stopped, and exited the truck. The female under attack was slender but not anorexic looking like the other three. She moved and tried to crawl away until Shane destroyed her brain with a single pistol shot.
I said, "Maybe this is how the final chapter of the Zombie Apocalypse will play out. We'll continue to hunt them down and pray the remainder devour each other."
On the day of my family’s big move, Kira and I packed the kids and dogs in a large SUV and set out leading two other trucks pulling trailers. In less than twenty minutes, the squeals and yells faded away to silence as our offspring drifted to sleep. The sun hadn't peeked above the horizon yet, and it wouldn't make an appearance for another thirty minutes. Kira poured me
