Yesterday though, we found the signs we were hoping for.
Actually, that’s completely fucked up. We found signs we were looking for, but shit, we certainly weren’t hoping for this.
We’d done a trundle north-east, then curved south when we had no luck, and we stumbled across a beautiful, spacious little village. I forgot to look at the sign so I can’t remember its name, but this was a place you needed fat loot in your bank account to live. Small clusters of drop-dead gorgeous houses, big open spaces, and further along in the village was a picturesque parish church that looked like it had been constructed in the dark ages. It could probably only handle maybe forty people max, but the area around it was breathtaking.
Being an urban girl, I really should have paid more attention to the glorious countryside round here before the world died. There’s so much to see, and it’s a pity now I’m only seeing it when its dead.
Anyway, just before this church (I think it was called Saint Peter’s) there was a small road opposite the ancient building that drew our attention, because we spied the vestiges of black smoke in the distance. It wasn’t thick, but it was a blue-sky day, and the thinning plumes were spotted by Alicia, who was looking left while I was trying to peer past Nate on the right and look at the quaint little church.
Once she pointed it out, Nate drew back and we swung down that road which was about a hundred yards, ending at a big gate. Well, what used to be a big gate. The metal grating looked like it was smashed open with force, as it was twisted and hanging from its brackets.
We arrived at a massacre. The smoke that caught Alicia’s eye was the last vestiges of a vehicle fire that had exploded either by design or accident when the bullets were flying.
It was a gated community of five stunning detached houses, each of them at least five or six bedrooms, huge space between each, all with big driveways and triple garages. The kind of house that someone like me only finds on the internet or sees on TV. Beautiful.
Or used to be, anyway. This little community must have been surviving okay. Out back everyone had vegetable gardens, greenhouses growing plants, and they must have been sharing resources between them. We found evidence that a couple of them owned firearms as well, probably for hunting or shooting clubs. In the living room of a couple of houses, behind shattered windows, we found shotgun cartridges in one, and in the other some .22 casings. Next to those discharged ammo casings, we found dead people. Not undead, but properly dead. All had multiple bullet wounds, so it looks like they were killed in a gunfight, then put down for a second time with a head shot.
“Humvee tracks,” said Nate, after we’d cleared the area to make sure there were no bad guys around. “Judging by the space between the wheels and the tread I can see. It’s virtually identical to our vehicle. Looks like they just drove through the gate and ripped it off. There are other vehicle tracks as well, maybe a pickup or two.”
“So, what, they just assaulted?”
Nate shook his head. “The bodies in the houses were ready for them, behind cover. There’s some blood over here, so I think they must have winged one or two of them. None of the dead seem to be like the four assholes we found. They just look like normal folk. I think the attackers came to talk first and when they didn’t get the answer they wanted, they came back with reinforcements, blasted through the gates and massacred everyone here.”
Check out Sherlock Carter over there. He’s probably right. There were eleven bodies in total, but here’s the kicker.
Three of them were kids not even in their teens. The youngest victim was about eight or nine.
I am sick to my hind teeth of finding dead kids. The sight of each one takes away another little piece of my soul, but the living purposefully attacking and killing them? No. Just fucking no. That is not on. It’s bad enough that starvation, dehydration, disease, the dropping climate conditions, and the god damn undead are killing our children.
For the living to be doing it on top of all that? I’m not having that shit on my watch.
“I really want to dick punch these fuckers,” I declared with feeling.
“Amen sister,” muttered Alicia. “How long ago do you think, sir?”
Sir. Honestly, I have to stop myself from laughing out loud and taking the piss when she says it. We’re not there yet with Alicia in terms of snappy piss-taking banter, and she’s taking this soldier shit really seriously, but I think if I start ripping on her for that it’ll be a step back in her progress. Instead, I have to settle for sighing quietly to myself and rolling my eyes where she can’t see.
“Yeah, how long, sir?”
I know. I know what I just said. Look, I’m not fucking perfect, but it’s like a physical compulsion. If I don’t release it in some way, it’s like physical pain for me. Just know that I said it in a really serious way, so she didn’t cotton on I was piss-taking. I did it on the sly, rather than pointing and laughing at her and making childish, “Oh please sir, can I have some more sir, how long ago do you think sir?” statements in a high-pitched mocking voice while dramatically fluttering my eyelids.
I’m such a bad person. Alicia was so focused on waiting for Nate’s answer she didn’t realise my childish amusement, but Nate did. He answered immediately to help disguise my sarcasm, but not before he
