He picked up the AR15, that had been leaning against the house as she got up quietly and moved to the front door. She eased the screen door open and disappeared. Bart kept all the hinges well oiled.
“Don’t need to announce to the world that we’re coming or going.” He said.
Quinn crept off the porch and down into the yard. He was flat on his belly, wanting to keep a low profile and minimal silhouette. He watched the night; the porch was in heavy shadows and the moon was barely a sliver. The night was dark, and it worked to Quinn’s advantage. He heard the soft creak of wood, just audible. Bart would go out the back door and work his way around front.
Quinn saw another figure run at a low crouch, and he had two in his sights. He waited patiently, and heard Bart coming around the side of the house. Quinn made a soft snick sound. Alerting Bart to his location. There was a soft sound in return. He knew Milly would be upstairs, her Mossberg aimed out. They’d had to patch the screens from her earlier shots out. If she shot again, they’d have to repair that screen as well. Quinn grinned at the thought. Milly was bloodthirsty.
The dogs were in the house, he’d have let them out when he and Laura went to bed, but now, they’d give the game away. He heard the soft murmur of the grass as Bart moved slowly toward him. Above him the susurrus of the wind wove through the trees. He could hear the night crickets singing. All would appear normal, but he knew different. He felt Bart come up beside him.
Lifting two fingers, Quinn indicated the direction he saw the two people go. That they were inside the fence line. They must have belly crawled beneath the barbed wire. Both men would wait and see where and what they were up to. Also, Quinn wanted to see if there were more people out there. There had been five before and he wondered if these two were affiliated with them. He and Milly had left the five bodies two miles up the east road. Sitting as a silent and rotting warning about going further. Perhaps, they should take these new bodies a couple miles up the west side. Apparently, the influx of people was going to be a constant problem now. He wished he’d had more barbed wire. It just wasn’t enough.
He’d set down with Bart and Milly and come up with a strategy to set traps and early warning systems about the farm. Especially in the back, where someone could come through the forest. Digging deep pits with shit covered spikes would be one solution and he’d get started on that tomorrow. They had plenty of chicken poop and dog crap to aid in that effort. They could also string fishing line with empty cans and rocks. He thought that Milly also had Christmas bells as well. Something to make noise.
In the woods, they could make snares for human prey. They’d just need to make sure they didn’t get caught in their own traps. He wondered if Bart had any kind of bear traps. His mind came back to task as he saw movement again. The second figure had caught up with the first. Bart bumped him and pointed in the direction, so he’d seen them as well. The two were moving cautiously and slowly. It looked as though they were heading toward the coop.
Both men crawled along the ground. Quinn knew that Bart was waiting, like him, for the men to get past the large stack of firewood. There was a clear field of fire right after that. Quinn also knew that they’d have to fire almost simultaneously to hit both men without one or the other escaping. Ten minutes crawled by, then Quinn saw both men emerge, making their way slowly toward the coop. Since Quinn was to the left of Bart, he’d take the man on the left. He lined up his sights.
He would use a three-shot burst, he was close enough to make the shot, but in the dark, that was tricky. He heard Bart whisper, “three, two, one, fire.”
Both men sent rounds to the intruders and both fell. The men screamed in agony and Quinn and Bart ran over, their bodies crouched down. They had no way of knowing if there were others.
Quinn pulled out his flashlight and shown it in the man’s face. He saw that the man had a shotgun and pulled it away from his hands. The other man had a .38 and Bart took that weapon.
“Who else is with you?” Quinn barked, grabbing the man’s grimy collar. He stunk like an outhouse and Quinn had to swallow to keep his gorge down. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, with greasy dark hair, matted down.
“No..nobody. Why did you shoot us?” The man cried, clutching his belly.
“We didn’t mean no harm.” The other man moaned, he’d been hit in the gut and the hip.
“Bullshit, you have guns and you’re creeping in at night. Who else is with you?” Bart demanded, grabbing the man’s thigh, causing the injured man to scream in a high-pitched howl.
“Nobody. Just me and him. Help us, Christ, help us.” The second man cried.
“Where are you coming from?” Quinn asked.
“From Kingswood, to the south. We been moving north.” The first man grunted; he was starting to fade.
“How have you been surviving?” Quinn asked and had to shake the man; he was dying.
“W…we hole up. T…then m..m.move on.” He stuttered, and Quinn could see bloody foam bubbling forth from his mouth.
“What did you do to those whose homes you took over?” Bart asked the second man, the first man’s
