The month following Ollie's death passed uneventfully except for the frequent sighting and shooting of zombies. Such ordeals had become routine occurrences. They seemed to be fanning out from the cities into the farmland at an ever increasing rate. We spoke of it and supposed it occurred because almost all humans had been annihilated in the densely packed larger cities.
John, Janice, and I exited I-70 at the turnoff for St. Peters, Missouri. The day was pleasant, partly cloudy and almost cool for early summer. We were searching for food, guns and ammo or any other useful items. Locating useable supplies had stabilized because there appeared to be only a few small groups, like ours, that survived the undead onslaught. With fall approaching, I wanted to stock up on all the food items we could find before freezing weather destroyed more of the canned foods packed in liquid.
A large elevated sign for a Schnuck's grocery store rose up in the distance off to our left. Janice maneuvered to it and drove around back to the loading dock. The single overhead delivery door was raised like the entrance to a dark, dank cave. The store had been hit already. We almost passed it but I chose to take time to stop and look.
Inside the warehouse, we discovered whoever had been there earlier had been a lot pickier than we were. They left a lot of canned and bagged food staples we could use. Whole pallets of rice, beans, flour, sugar and cases of fruits and vegetables remained untouched. We left after loading our twenty-foot enclosed goose-neck trailer three fourths full. We already were likely well over the recommended weight limit but had more empty space inside.
Our next stop was a Walmart store two miles off the highway. Again we pulled around back. An older model Dodge pickup occupied a space along the back of the building. We stopped and parked ten yards from it. Miscellaneous boxed items partially covered the truck bed. We approached the entrance door cautiously. It was possible the people inside could be friendly, or they could shoot on sight; we'd experienced both replies. Inside the building, we stopped when we heard several gun shots. We clicked the safeties off the rifles and flattened against an inside wall to get our bearings. The stench of zombies hung in the humid air like a herd of rabid skunks had died there. The shots faded to eerie silence. Clear plastic panels in the roof allowed enough sun rays to penetrate the gloom to see without flashlights.
The three of us cautiously turned left toward where the gunshots originated. As we got closer, we heard human voices. We scurried along in single file. Several more shots echoed through the cavernous warehouse, and we again stopped to look and listen.
Turning down a main aisle, our noses picked up a much stronger putrid smell of the undead. Four people stood a hundred feet away. Several zombie corpses lay close by them. I motioned for John and Janice to step back behind the remaining racks of palletized goods to be safe in case the humans weren't friendly.
I leaned around the rack and shouted, "Hello, we're friends. Do you need help?" In the distant aisles, I heard the moaning of more zombies. We surveyed both directions of the aisle where we crouched and didn't see any monsters nearby.
Two men, a woman, and a young girl eyed me warily. All four carried guns that were turned in my general direction, but the barrels pointed safely toward the concrete floor.
I yelled again. "Three of us are here gathering supplies, do you need help?"
Behind them, I saw several zombies emerge from a cross aisle fifteen feet away. "Behind you, more zombies!" I yelled. The moaning and screeching grew louder as the zombies sensed the movement and sound of live prey.
At least eight of the macabre undead advanced on them as more stumbled around the corner. My group moved down the wide main aisle to help the strangers. Faster than I ever expected, two of the zombies streaked ahead of the rest and attacked a man dressed in military camouflage. He stood to the left at the edge of the aisle. He'd fired several bursts without having time to aim at their brains. The momentum of the attackers drove the man back several feet. The barrel of his M16 lodged under the head of the nearest zombie and blasted its brains out. But the second fast mover sank its teeth into the man's flesh between his shoulder and neck. The man's screams were muffled by the zombie's hand clawing at his face.
The other strangers had their hands full with approaching slow movers and we were too far off to chance shots past the humans into the zombies. I stopped and sighted on the zombie chewing on the first man they'd attacked, but they moved around erratically behind the other people as the man began to crumple downward. He was as good as dead, but I couldn't chance a shot that near the other three folks. The man and his attacker slumped to the floor behind the line of shooters. The large bodied man lost the struggle with the unbelievably strong monster.
We reached the humans, and I shot the zombie who was now on top of the downed male human attacking his face. I shot it in the head twice. The man underneath it appeared to be dead. Large, ragged chunks of flesh lay beside him in a widening pool of blood. I turned and the six of us finished the final onslaught of zombies in less than thirty seconds. I quickly counted at least fourteen more zombies on the floor.
The three strangers appeared relieved
