Running to Escape
by
Robert Schobernd
A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller Featuring
Sam & JR
Published by Robert Schobernd at Amazon
Copyright 2020 by Robert Schobernd
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 Running to Escape
Chapter 2 Running to Live
Chapter 3 Running to Hide
Chapter 4 Running to Survive
Chapter 5 Running No More
Now sit back with a snack and a drink and enjoy
Running to Escape
Chapter 1
Running to Escape
After lunch Saturday afternoon, Sam Boyle drove south to Lawton, Oklahoma, to buy groceries. He planned to be parked at the Aldi’s store within twenty minutes and back home by two. The temperature was hot, pushing ninety-five, and he was sweaty from being outdoors shooting for the past three hours. It was his fourth practice session in the past week. The target range extended three hundred yards for rifle practice out across parched grass and weeds to a tree line in front of a high dirt ridge. The sheet of plywood atop the shooting stand provided shade, but the air was still hot and humid with only slight occasional breezes. Two hundred rounds shot through two .40 caliber Glock G 24 handguns at fifty feet gave him a good feel for the weapons. Due to them not having a safety switch and being carried hot, he’d practiced drawing them, unloaded, at home from his thigh holster several evenings. He was pleased with his target practice performance with the new firearms; his handgun accuracy with the black semiautomatics was better than he expected. He fully appreciated their eventual use would demand pinpoint accuracy if he was to survive. Practice on the M-21 sniper rifles went well too. Both were sighted in at 200 yards. With his final weapon he was amazed at the damage the 12 gauge shotgun slugs did to the 1 1/2” thick boards nailed between two trees. They were thoroughly splintered at one hundred feet.
Before his dad died, they’d spent many hours at Charlie Wilcox’s homemade shooting range plunking tin cans and paper targets. He was prepared to leave Oklahoma any day and head north but kept procrastinating. He’d waited much too long to check off the final issue on his ‘escape list’—buying appropriate firearms.
Uprooting his life from his childhood home environment was proving harder than he’d anticipated. But that emotional baggage holding him back had to be overcome soon. Selling the house he’d been raised in was the first of several highly emotional acts. However, his future there was a vast unknown and getting bleaker by the week. He firmly believed it was past time to move on.
Charlie and his wife Ilene lived eight miles north of Fort Sill Army base. Since his dad’s death, Sam had visited them often and grown even closer. They had no children and treated him like an adopted son. He only wished Charlie wasn’t so hardheaded and set in his ways. If he and Ilene didn’t accept what was fast approaching, it could cost them their lives. They’d had several intense discussions about the approaching zombie threat, but Charlie simply pooh-poohed the idea of dead bodies attacking the living because there was nothing on the TV about it.
North of the city at Fort Sill, Sam was surprised by the high level of activity around the exterior of the base. Tanks and armored personnel carriers were leaving the main gate in a steady stream to take up stations around the long, tall perimeter fence on the south side. Ground forces appeared to be in full battle gear despite the hot afternoon sun and high humidity. He’d never seen so many troops and pieces of equipment outside the base before and wondered if they were practicing some new security maneuvers. He hoped it had nothing to do with the zombies he knew were heading their way. Surely they weren’t that far north of the Gulf Coast already. But—what if?
On the north side of Lawton, he exited Interstate 44 South onto NW Cache Rd. A thousand yards ahead stalled traffic was backed up to a full stop. He switched to the left lane before stopping. Sam immediately thought there must be a bad wreck ahead. Several drivers ahead of him honked their horns impatiently for the blockage to move. Some got out of line and drove on the shoulder or crossed the dry grass medium to the eastbound lanes. Several of those—especially the compact cars—didn’t make it across the deep ‘V’ to the east bound lanes.
To his right, at a parallel road, traffic on NW Lawton Avenue was also stopped. He was changing the radio station when frantic movement caused him to suddenly look up and to the right. Through a six foot opening between vehicles, Sam’s gaze locked on a frightening scene, and he exclaimed loudly, “Oh, shit.” He held his breath as he got his first actual sighting of real liv—undead zombies. A lump formed in his throat; he had fervently believed the threat was real, and suddenly he was face to face with its evil. His truck was stopped in the left lane, and he opened the driver’s door to stand on the doorsill and peer over the top of the work van next to him. The sun beat down on people on Lawton Avenue being attacked outside their cars by the undead; undead who only hours or days earlier had been ordinary people, maybe neighbors or relatives. The people should have stayed inside their vehicles and kept the zombies at bay. He watched horrified as victims who were too old or too slow to escape were bitten and torn until shock set in. They fell dead—then within a minute or so slowly rose to chase other people. Even their own relatives received no quarter after they turned. The old, slow people even moved faster after they turned. The ragtag, undead army grew steadily as
