Connie lost all of her bravado and went silent. Through my rifle scope, her demeanor appeared fearful. Her neck twisted so her head faced toward where the undead could be heard as they scoured the terrain for living prey. It seemed fitting that she be submitted to the same horror her scheming actions had imposed first on Cory Petersen, then Emma, and finally on Kira.
A group of nine undead slowly approached Connie from our left. Deep guttural moans and occasional high pitched shrieks filled the air and drew us into their unreal world. I thought about how the undead sickness had ravished the planet, our country, and changed our lives so drastically. Connie had grown silent when the undead were close enough to hear her voice. The lead zombie focused on her, and it lurched forward at a faster gait. The others increased their shuffling, stumbling walk through the alfalfa to keep up. Three zombies stood out. They were fast and more coordinated. The faster ones quickly passed the slow monster at the front of the horde. These were the ones we had grown cautious of. A healthy person could easily outrun the slow undead, but these faster mutants could eventually catch and kill unarmed people. The undead didn't need to stop to rest or catch their breath. They simply kept coming and coming like a bowling ball rolling down Pike's Peak.
Connie watched the undeaed approach and finally couldn't restrain her fear any longer. She turned to face us and begged, screaming in a frightened, pleading tone. I could barely make out some of her words across the distance and filled in the rest. "Please someone, shoot me now, please. I beg you. Don't let them do this to me. I'm guilty, but for God's sake show me mercy. Please, I don't want to be torn apart by those dirty monsters. Please!"
I watched Kira's features soften and her bottom lip quiver. She raised her rifle, hesitated, then aimed and slowly exhaled. The zombies converged on Connie, and she screamed loud and nonstop in a terrified frenzy. Her legs moved in spasms as if to run away from the horror, but the chain held fast. Because of her thrashing, the chain cut into her neck so tight it drew a ring of blood. The fastest zombie was in a dead run four or five feet from Connie when Kira's first bullet jerked Connie's head back. Blood, brain and bone matter splattered the tree behind her. Her head fell forward as two more bullets buffeted her broken skull in quick succession. The rest of us shot the remaining zombies in their heads with lethal accuracy. And then an eerie silence enveloped us as no one spoke.
Kira was a conundrum. Her action in granting Connie's last wish of mercy showed more compassion than I'd expected or that Connie deserved for that matter. I was determined to learn more about this intriguing woman.
OUTNUMBERED volume 2
Prologue
We watched TVs and the internet in horror as the undead swept across Europe. Before the tragedy of Europe unfolded in living, colorful, gore, governments and the media tried to keep a lid on news of what was happening in Africa, Asia and the Mid-East. The mayhem was blamed on a new strain of virus that caused people to act crazy. Citizens of all the European countries fighting the invasion hand to hand lost first. Most of them were unarmed due to radical gun control laws. A few had shotguns, but birdshot wasn't effective against the undead monsters. However, it was through the European police and military we learned only a headshot that destroyed the zombie's brain would stop them.
In a few short weeks, they were here wreaking havoc on our coastal cities. From there, they spread in all directions as people infected by blood or tissue fled to safe havens only to infect the ones they loved.
Whatever the reason for their existence, zombies are our daily foe. Destroying them is at the heart and soul of all we do. There is a question only time will reveal the answer to—will mankind somehow survive, or will the undead zombies inherit the Earth? It's too early to know, but we'll fight and struggle until the scales tip permanently 100% one way or the other. We have no other choice.
Tom Jacobs – 2022, the third year of the zombie apocalypse.
CHAPTER FOUR
On December 1, 2021, Kira Schafer, Marilyn Jarnigan, and I left our base and drove toward Bloomington, Minnesota, for supplies. Kira often brooded silently as she fought personal demons imposed during a recent abduction and rape by another group of survivors. When we caught the lecherous scum, none escaped our vigilante wrath.
We filed our trip itinerary in the office with Elsie Talbot and left on a Wednesday morning. For the last three days, the sky remained murky and overcast. As we drove north, four inches of snow covered the ground; the remnants of the last two minor snow storms. I didn't feel we were due for major snow accumulation yet, but there was no way to predict when one would hit our area. One of the now extinct technologies I missed daily was the extended weather forecasts provided on TV, radio, or over the internet.
Frequent stops along Route 169 at small rural stores consumed several hours but yielded few goods. They were either sold out before the overpowering zombie tide reached them, or they were thoroughly pillaged afterward.
What we did find were small groups of zombies. Likely, they were the last inhabitants of the towns to be contaminated and hadn't been disposed of yet. Local sheriff's deputies and hunters held their own for a while, but they were eventually overrun
