"We've run into so many undead all along the way that we're real low on ammunition. I didn't have a lot to start with. We stopped at several gun shops, but they'd already been cleaned out. At a Bass Pro Shop near St. Cloud, we got inside and then we had to fight off a whole bunch of zombies to escape. That's where we picked up the two men, Jerome and, Sam." He motioned over his shoulder toward the second woman. "Vivian, was outside the store running down the street when we escaped, and she begged to come with us. The fuel tanks are almost empty, and we need food and water. Can you share some supplies with us or tell us where to get some? Can you?"
There was movement on my left as Kira edged closer. She was still unsure of the strangers and stayed behind cover while training her AK on them.
"We'll help you, but what's your destination?"
"I don't know. We don't have anyplace in mind. Do you—"
I judged the other people. The two teens now stood slightly behind the drab woman from the front passenger seat. Both were slender, a girl maybe thirteen and a taller boy about fifteen. Each was jittery and clearly as ill at ease as their mother.
Vivian, the lone Latino woman, late twenties, medium height, was wrapped tightly in a huge winter coat with the hood up. She stood slightly apart from the others. She was scared and looked like a hare perched to jump and flee at any moment.
Jerome and Sam stood behind the others, one on either side of the vehicle. Concerned, cautious, not afraid, one middle aged, one younger, both fit, both wearing tan Carharts with pistols holstered at their right thighs. Their arms were folded across their chests as they struck relaxed nonconfrontational poses.
"— know how far we'll have to go to a place where we'll find other people? Surely there are towns that were able to fight the zombies off and survive. Right?"
I shook my head. "I don't know of any town in the states surrounding Iowa that weren't overrun. We're all on our own."
There were loud murmurs and the two women slumped in defeat as they openly sobbed at the news that no towns were safe havens. I heard Vivian mumble, "Oh my God."
I raised my eyebrows as I threw a questioning glance at Marilyn. She nodded. I turned to Kira as she stepped away from her hidey hole. Her rifle was still leveled at the new people. "Me too." She nodded as she pointed the barrel of her weapon at the gravel. Marilyn followed Kira's lead.
I smiled because of the caring attitude I'd learned to expect from my friends. "We have a compound in Iowa. Twenty-seven of us live there, twenty-two adults and five children. We're the closest thing to a safe town I know of. Do you want to join us?"
The strangers exchanged speculative looks, and then smiled broadly. Shortly, nods of approval were universal. Several ‘thanks’ were given before I spoke. "When we get there, you'll be examined by our doctor. Afterward you'll be put in solitary confinement for three weeks. If you've not been infected by contact with a zombie, you'll be accepted into the group. If you are infected and begin the transition cycle, you'll be terminated. That's our most stringent rule. Acceptance of those terms is mandatory."
It took a little longer to elicit yeses, but they finally agreed to the harsh non-negotiable term.
Kira pointed and lightened the mood, "We're running ahead of schedule because of finding this full trailer of food and other stuff." She turned to address me. "I was inside the warehouse for half an hour while you started the truck. There are a lot of things that haven't been touched. Can we make a quick pass through the warehouse while we're here? There's no telling what we might find. Most people are after food and ammunition. But big grocery stores carried a lot more than that."
We formed two groups. I took Nate and Vera Robard and their two teens, Mitch and Susie. Jerome Watters, Sam Williams, and Vivian Alverez went with Marilyn and Kira.
The majority of the food items had been picked through, but we loaded up on linens, non-prescription medicines, bandages, cosmetics, personal grooming items, light bulbs, soap and other miscellaneous items. A major find was canning supplies and equipment. We cleaned those items out. When the doors on our twenty foot cargo trailer closed, it was more than nine-tenths full.
Several over the road tractors on the lot had partial tanks of diesel, so we siphoned enough to fill the tanks on the Peterbilt and the fuel guzzling Humvee. While we transferred fuel, I asked Nate, "Where did you find this monster?"
"A friend of mine had it stored in a barn on his ranch. When we got there in my car, zombie carcasses littered the place. He and his family were inside the house dead. I suspect he killed the family members and then committed suicide at the end fearing they'd be overrun. Given the circumstances, I knew he wouldn't care if we took it. That's where we found the guns and ammunition we brought. I didn't own any guns before, so I'm just learning to shoot. I'm not good at it, and my wife hates guns. She won't even touch one."
I wound the siphon hose. "We have mandatory exercise programs and target practice for everyone including your teens. You need to share that with her on the way. We can't afford to have people who can't defend themselves; they're liabilities. You'll both get the hang of it."
Nate winced noticeably at the mention of exercise.
Late that night, the seven possible new members were fed and then examined by our doctor before being locked in the six
