After the meeting, my friends smiled sarcastically when I mentioned needing a new home for Nate Robard. After I explained the situation of Nate gorging himself in the kitchen, Shane reluctantly agreed to use Nate outside preparing the big garden area for planting.
CHAPTER SIX
The following morning, James, Kira, and I drove west across Iowa on I-80 to Nebraska. Several side trips diverted us to stores not identified on our master list of places we'd looked into previously.
The next day we continued making random stops as we crossed Nebraska. In North Platte, we were pleased to find four top-of-the-line notebook computers in the storeroom of an electronics store. As far as we knew, most survivors didn't have the luxury of power generation, so computers and electronics equipment were usually abundant to us. It was ironic that we cherished finding the latest technology to make our work faster and more accurate when in a decade or two they would be useless when our electric power shut down.
Across Nebraska, we mostly found small groups of zombies congregated in or near the small-sized towns. Similar to our home area, we encountered additional small groups and singles wandering aimlessly between towns near the highway or stumbling in the distance across fields.
We stayed on I-80 to the northeast corner of Colorado enjoying the mild sixty-five degree afternoon temperature and bright sunshine of late April. At the I-76 exit we turned southwest and took that to State Highway 34 and on into Greeley, Colorado. By then we'd spent two and a half days and had the twenty-foot cargo trailer nearly half full of supplies. That evening before dark, we refilled the dual diesel tanks from jerrycans stored in the trailer.
Over the past year, I'd learned to watch James closely in the field. He was a nice guy, but he lacked what people call common sense. He'd do anything he was asked, but he didn't easily make decisions on his own. He was what I considered a straight-line thinker; he focused on one thing and ignored everything else to accomplish the set task. I liked him because he was cooperative and pleasant to be around. We'd made a place for him in the kitchen helping Andrea Michaels because of his past experience as a busboy in restaurants. James was mid-twenties, tall and thin, average-looking, clean shaven, and wore his brown hair cut short. Since we tried to include everyone in our foraging trips, he was always scheduled with me or Shane so we could look after him.
Before the apocalypse, there were more than a hundred thousand people living in Greeley, Colorado. We assumed the city would be like all the others; all humans would be dead and wandering the town or the countryside after transforming into the undead.
Early the following morning, Kira drove into Greeley and began stopping at stores in shopping malls. We had to pass several individual stores because of the large numbers of zombies milling about close by.
Late that afternoon, she parked the truck and trailer in front of a large sporting goods superstore. No zombies were in sight. A fresh breeze blew what was left of the tattered USA flag that had been flying unattended for three years. The name 'Sportsman's Paradise' was one I didn't recognize. Double glass doors at the storefront stood open, inviting us to explore inside. We entered the dim building with our senses on high alert. The stench of zombies permeated the musty air. "James, put your rifle on your shoulder with the carrying sling and use your pistol."
Sunrays coming through several plate glass windows in the front wall provided enough light to move about until we were halfway down the aisles. We wandered waywardly into the clothing sections, so we backtracked searching for guns and ammunition.
Kira stood behind me shining a flashlight on rifle ammunition searching for the sizes we wanted most. I found the .40 and .45 caliber handgun loads. Several boxes of bullets lay strewn on the floor, most stepped on and broken open. Brass cased bullets were scattered about the floor covering. Walking in the dim light was like slipping on marbles. Fist-sized lumps of something lay on the floor, and I squatted to look closer. I stood quickly and turned away. The lumps were rotting pieces of flesh that I assumed had been torn from human bodies in the last several weeks.
From the back of the store I heard the low moans of zombies. Lots of moans meant lots of zombies. We peered into the dark cavernous space but couldn't see them. Nothing moved, and I barely breathed. The sounds grew louder. Suddenly, two fast runners raced down the aisle directly toward us. Kira and I fired practically together, and the lead attacker's head exploded and sprayed on the second one. We switched to the other zombie and Kira fired a round right behind my shots. The zombie collapsed and slid toward us on inertia as the incessant moans of the rest of the herd grew louder and the dull shuffling of feet filled our senses.
Another noise begged me to turn my attention. More zombies entered the store through the front entrance. We were trapped between two enormous approaching groups.
Behind the service counter, I spotted a door to the store manager's office. I hesitated several seconds to grab boxes of .40 and .45 caliber ammo and dumped them in the rucksack hanging at my left side.
"This way!" I yelled as I ran around the end of the counter. The door was closed but unlocked. I opened it and Kira rushed in. "Where is James?" I saw him twenty feet away on the other side of the
