West of Bloomington, we hit a treasure trove of food in the yard of a grocer's distribution warehouse. I parked inside the chain-link fenced area, and we ambled toward the warehouse that marred several acres of ground like a huge metallic scab. Several metal overhead doors on the loading dock were raised.
To our left, a solitary trailer sat away from the docking area. From thirty feet, it appeared a padlock secured the trailer's overhead door. I was curious; why had it been left there and why was it locked? The women stopped when I spoke about it.
We cut the lock's shackle and raised the door. In unison, we grinned and then shouted with joy. The load appeared to be outgoing because of the wide assortment of canned food products and boxes of other merchandise bound for area stores. It had likely been loaded and moved from the dock before everyone went home the day the warehouse shutdown due to the approaching deadly invasion that could no longer be denied.
Instead of transferring a portion of the load to the trailer behind our truck, I decided to steal a tractor and take the entire load back to our base. We could sort out containers that had frozen and burst as we unloaded.
Jumper cables charged the battery on a Peterbilt tractor for almost an hour. The diesel engine finally started, and I backed the tractor to connect to the trailer. Marilyn climbed up to the driver's door and knocked on the glass. I stopped the big rig to see what caused her look of concern. She spoke before the glass was fully lowered. "Look past my right side. There's an older model tan Humvee outside the perimeter fence. People are in it, and they're watching us. Kira saw them several minutes ago while you were starting the truck. They coasted silently down the fence line and stopped where they're at. She's watching and ready to return fire if they're hostile. What should we do, ignore them and leave or confront them?"
I thought the situation over for a few seconds. "Why don't you turn around and wave at them and see what their reaction is?" I grinned slightly as I added, "Be ready to dive for cover if a gun appears."
She frowned at me momentarily, not liking my attempt at being funny. She turned and hesitated several short breaths, then waved at the Humvee several times. She hopped off the truck's step, and then I backed up until I felt the tractor and box trailer lurch as they coupled.
Ignoring the strangers, I went to the back of the cab and connected the light cables and air hoses. In the distance, I heard loud exhaust noise. When I turned to look at the Humvee, it was gone. I followed the exhaust sound to the open front gate we'd entered. The military truck warily pulled through the opening and approached us. The truck's muffler had holes and the exhaust noise was intense.
I had the Glock on my thigh, but my rifle was in the truck cab. I swung up and reached inside the cab and grabbed the M14. The engine idled a bit rough, but I let it run. On the ground, I carried the rifle in the crook of my right arm, pointed downward. Marilyn moved between the tractor and trailer. She scrunched behind the dual wheels with her rifle aimed at the Humvee. I stepped away from her line of fire in case they attacked us.
"That's close enough," I yelled as I raised my arm. "Exit the truck and show yourselves." The Humvee stopped. A full minute passed before the chugging and smoking diesel engine shutdown. I nervously waited for movement. A man and woman in the front seats turned to each other as we watched and waited. What were they up to, if anything? Other people were seated behind them, but I didn't know how many. I felt naked and exposed standing in the open ten feet from the nearest cover.
Both front doors squeaked loudly as they tentatively swung open. The man and woman eventually stepped out. The short, plain, thin woman appeared fearful and hesitant. Two rear doors followed. More people stepped out. A total of three men, two women, and two teens, stood nervously waiting to see who would make the next move.
Kira hadn't shown herself or made a sound, but I knew she had me covered. I thought of her high target range rifle scores and knew she and Marilyn could be counted on in any situation to provide accurate, withering, rifle fire.
The driver, a medium height obese man gorging his way to being grossly fat, was in his mid to late thirties. His complexion was pale except for a deep pink nose. He stepped toward me with hands raised and palms empty.
I studied the mostly Caucasian group closely. "What do you want?"
The man didn't smile, but projected a serious, non-threatening, demeanor. "We waited to see if you were friendly. Two groups we met ran us off and threatened us." The woman who'd sat beside the driver gripped her left hand tightly with her right hand. She was shorter by several inches than the man I instinctively guessed she was with. The overweight man hesitated and glanced at her. "We've come from Minot, North Dakota. Minot was our home. It's been overrun by zombies, and as far as we know we were the last people alive there." He took a breath and appeared uneasy. The sun was at our backs and he squinted at me.
I tried to be
