OUTNUMBERED volume 4: A Zombie Apocalypse Series (3 page)

Ira glanced around the table. "I believe I can speak for all of us when I say I'm in shock. I suppose I shouldn't be amazed at this latest development because the very idea of the living dead zombies is absurd to say the least. Medical science dictates that it can't happen; but we all know it has. To acknowledge these monsters are having intercourse and babies are being born is completely mind boggling. As unthinkable as it sounds we also must accept what Frances and Tom are telling us about the growth rate of the offspring. For a child several hours old to crawl and have the physical development described and documented in these photos, indicates an abnormal metabolism that leads to phenomenal growth. If that compresses the aging process it may also shorten the life cycle and cause them to age and die earlier than would be expected. That is the only hope I can offer. But don't take that as fact. I'm only guessing something like that could occur based on what I've heard here today." Ira leaned back in his chair and squinted, clearly in deep thought. Quickly he leaned forward again. "I'm not second guessing what the two of you did with that baby thing, but if the situation presents itself again it would be of enormous benefit to have that infant here in a cage for several months for us to observe and study."

I thought Ira was finished but he added, "This also indicates the full bodied zombies, as we call them, have functioning digestive tracts. They may have evolved back toward being more human. At the first opportunity, I need to perform an autopsy on a recently killed specimen."

Shane said, "Does everyone agree we need to share this new information with the adults in the group? Good! We currently have thirty-seven adults, nine are here now. That leaves twenty eight."

Ira cut in. "I feel we should include anyone over the age of ten. They're old enough to grasp what this is about. That adds seven more from the group sixteen or younger. Only two children are below the age of ten."

Andrea spoke, "I agree with Ira. In the world we live in, they need this information, too. Who knows when we could be overrun by these human looking zombies? This summer the kids will be working outside the security fence at the gardens and they could easily be approached there. We want them to know some zombies look like us. I also believe they can handle the birth part. Growing up fast is the order of the day from this point on. Our ancestors managed it and so must we."

I looked around the table. Eventually everybody nodded. "Okay. I suggest we have Elsie split the thirty-five people into five groups of seven. I'd like Shane, John, Andrea, Morgan, and Ira to be presenters. If any of you want me to sit in on your sessions I'll be glad to help, and I'm sure Frances will also.

The agenda was dealt with and I was about to end the meeting when Francis motioned to me. A look of great concern clouded her face.

"Tom, I thought of something else that I think is important. Jeff, Lindy and her children were all bitten inside the house, yet we didn't see any hunks of flesh as we usually find lying around the bodies. Look at the photos; they're not near Jeff or Lindy. This picture shows Jeff was bitten at least twice. What happened to the flesh that was removed?"             

Ira frantically shuffled through the photos. "Thank you, Frances. That's what was bugging me and I couldn't put my finger on it." He stopped briefly several times before moving a picture closer to his glasses. He turned it to catch the light better. For several long seconds he studied the image before closing his eyes and laying the photo down on the table.

Everyone around the table was silent. I asked, "What is it Ira."

His complexion was ashen. His glasses were laid on top of the stack of photos. "You approached quite close for the second picture of the baby. There's something laying there near where its head had been in the first picture. I believe it's a chunk of flesh. The damn thing was being fed human flesh. Look closely in the later photos, I believe there is a ring of blood around the little monster's lips and smeared on its cheeks." There was murmuring around the table.

Morgan cleared his throat. "If you're right, then it follows that the other zombies ate the pieces of flesh they tore from Jeff and that other lady. That's why the flesh isn't anywhere to be seen. Is that what we're saying?"

Ira glanced around the table and stopped at me, then switched and stopped at Frances. "Someone argue with me, tell me I'm full of shit. Please find another explanation."

I motioned to Kira. "Will you go to the armory. I laid Jeff's .45 caliber Glock on the work table to be cleaned and put back in stock. It's the only one there. Will you check the magazine and see if it's been fired?"

I turned back to the others. "Let's backtrack and start at the beginning," I said. "Frances, help me here, especially if I draw a conclusion you don't agree with. Close your eyes to concentrate on what we saw this afternoon, and I will, too.

I started, "When Jeff and Lindy walked to the porch the front door was shut. She had her keys out to unlock it. I backed down the driveway no more than thirty feet and stopped. We both immediately jumped out. As my door shut, there was a commotion from inside the house, like someone hitting a wall hard and then two shots followed. All of that was close together. There was no moaning or screeching. We ran to the front of the house and stood at the open doorway. What do you see Frances?"

"The room was dim, looking inside from the bright sunshine behind me. A male zombie was on top of Jeff and three others were on Lindy. There—"

"Jeff and Lindy," I asked, "What were their positions, what were they doing?" I asked.

"Jeff was on his stomach, his right arm is outstretched, I can't see the left. His pistol is a few feet from his right hand. Blood is flowing from the back right side of his neck. Jeff's screaming and kicking his legs. The zombie on his back is biting on the other side of Jeff's neck. As it raised its head another chunk was ripped from Jeff's neck and blood spurted in the air. Jeff stopped screaming.  The zombie chewed something as it sat on his back. We both shot the zombie and it fell forward onto Jeff."

Frances called my name and I opened my eyes. "It was chewing and the first chunk torn from Jeff's neck wasn't anywhere around."

Everyone stared at me or Frances as I said, "I agree with that. Now Lindy. She was on her back with the adult zombie and two smaller ones biting her. There were no pieces of meat near-by. The female who gave birth was in the middle of the room with her brain destroyed." I looked to Frances as she nodded. She stated, "I agree and also, neither of Lindy's revolvers were drawn. She must have been caught by surprise."

Kira entered and closed the door behind her. "Jeff's handgun had been fired and two bullets are missing from the magazine."

"Okay," I said, "it looks like Lindy unlocked the door and they entered. Since she had the key, I can only assume she entered first. We heard a scuffle from outside and then two shots. When Frances and I reached the front door a big zombie had Jeff face down on the carpet biting him on the left side of his neck and down into his shoulder area."

Ira injected, "That would be the trapezius or the lavator scapulae muscles."

"It makes sense that Jeff got two shots off before he was attacked from behind. It's likely he was ambushed and knocked forward and down onto his stomach. Frances, there was a small coat closet built into the left side of the entry. If the other three zombies were beyond that they may have attacked Lindy and knocked her to the floor. The big zombie that attacked Jeff must have been behind the door. "She agreed.

Shane said, "This is new behavior, totally out of character for the zombies we've dealt with in the past. You've indicated there were none of the typical zombie sounds we're accustomed to, and they apparently laid in wait for their victims to enter before attacking." 

I nodded, "If we're finished, I'll ask Elsie to make notes from the recorder to use as a talking paper when you meet with the other members. As big as this news is we should have all the meetings at the same time in different locations so rumors don't spread before everyone gets the info first hand."

Andrea spoke as I started to rise. "I want to propose that the members of the leadership committee not go on trips together from now on, unless there is a definite need for them to go. We can't afford to lose two or three of you." She stopped and turned to Morgan. "Stop grinning like that. Yes, you and the other's are that important to us. You're the leaders here and we'd be lost without you."

After standing I said, "I agree, and that will also apply to Ira and Shana. All of you are important parts of the team."

It was after eleven when we adjourned. I was ready for sleep, but Kira had other plans for the night. I happily found the strength and endurance to carry on for another hour.

The five group meetings were held the following morning at ten. As I'd anticipated, the information scared the hell out of the attendees. Some cried and others looked numb, but no one was unaffected. It was grim news, and I wondered what other developments in the zombie's existence we'd be faced with.

~*~*~*~

For the next week, there were impromptu discussions that rehashed the same questions but yielded no new answers. As we adjusted to each phase of the zombie's evolution, we were quickly faced with new and more startling changes. Some wondered if it would ever end or if this was the pattern for the remainder of our lives and of our offspring.

Eventually, we all settled down and everyone reengaged in the same routines we'd had previously. If anything, Kira became even more attentive and loving as her pregnancy advanced. The idea of being a father was new to me, and I truly looked forward to the birth of our first children.

Kira's fifteen year old daughter, Paige, slept in a small room next to ours and she and I got along well. I was totally surprised and flattered one evening when Paige called me Dad for the first time. After she used that endearing term several more times, I reciprocated by calling her Daughter. She grinned widely, and from then on we were a close-knit family anxiously waiting for our newest members.

We had good reason to anticipate more births at Deliverance over the next few years. Grace Abbot and Martin Radcliff Jr. had been observed spending a lot of time together, and the rumor mill said they'd been seen embracing and smooching on more that one occasion. I was pleased with the progress Grace had made over the past year from being a trouble making hard case to a caring and dependable young woman. Kira and Vivian Alverez had played a major role in Grace's transformation by taking her under their wings like setting hens and not backing off until they got good results.

Kira had told me in the strictest of confidence that Vivian had her sights set on Shane, my best friend. His wife, Janice, had died the previous fall during an attack by a group of paramilitary rogues who intended to wrest Deliverance from us. During a heated battle we lost four good people but won the conflict. I knew from watching Shane's reaction when Vivian was around that he was attracted to her. Kira and I felt a relationship was soon to blossom and be acknowledged by the couple.

CHAPTER TWO

T
he second week of April, Kira and I made a trip to Cedar Rapids with two companions. We were looking for clothing articles for the entire group. Our plan was to accumulate clothing for all seasons including, shirts, pants, socks, shoes, underwear and outerwear. We weren't primarily concerned about sizes because everything was going into a communal storage where anyone could take what ever they wanted that fit. We enforced mandatory exercise programs, and Ira encouraged all of us to control our weight, so we rejected only the XX and XXX plus sizes.

Kira was in the back seat of the crew cab pickup with me. Verlie Halcom rode shotgun across from our driver, Sam Williams. The twenty foot enclosed trailer behind us was close to half full after two stops at Farm and Home stores. We were after rugged work type clothes, not dress outfits or even what had been considered casual dress. Jeans, sturdy shirts and shoes and boots were stylish enough for the fragile existence we all led.

We approached a large shopping mall where three large chain department stores were listed on a huge sign near the street. Sam spoke, "Look up ahead. Two people are being attacked by a fair sized group of zombies." A pickup and trailer sat straight ahead on the other side of the street. As we closed the distance I saw a scissors type jack had been used to raise the rear end of the Ford pickup. A tire was off the hub and lay flat on the ground.

A man and woman stood against the street side of the pickup firing rifles at a group of zombies approaching them. We stopped in the right lane and exited our truck. Another small mob of undead was hustling toward us from straight ahead.

I said, "You three start on the new bunch while I join the other people before they're overrun. Watch your backs." I ran across the two center lanes to approach the middle aged couple. The man heard me coming and drew a pistol as he turned. Gunfire from my companions had erupted and blotted out other sounds. He raised the large bore revolve and pointed it at my chest. His beard and hair matched his grubby clothing.

I stopped in my tracks. "Whoa! I'm human and I'm here to help." My rifle was in my hand at my side. I slowly advanced to stand beside the man. "Let's shoot zombies, not each other."

He didn't speak, but quickly turned to work his lever action carbine to shoot at the undead. He was a good marksman. I took a deep breath as I wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Surely he'd heard the diesel engine truck stop behind him. The woman beside him stopped firing to change magazines and then the three of us continued to mow down the horde until it was a small group and finally all the undead were on the ground. The middle aged man set about reloading the tube on the lever action.

Gunfire behind us had slacked and finally stopped. I spun around completely and didn't see anymore zombies running toward us.

I extended my hand. "Tom Jacobs." The man gave me a harsh glare before his right hand met mine. "John Mitchell and my wife Bea." He broke the hand clasp quickly and turned to his wife. "I'll go look for a tire. Watch yourself."

Before he could walk away, I said, "I have two spare tires, you're welcome to one. It's dangerous to be out alone or to leave Bea here alone. I'll replace it later."

My crew stood beside me. John scowled and spit on the road. "Don't need no help. I'll go find one." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Let's go. If he doesn't want help it's time to leave."

Bea yelled. "Damn it John, take the damned tire so you don't have to leave me here by myself. I'm scared and want to get on home."

John stopped in his tracks, spun on his heels, and stomped back to Bea. He stopped right up against her and she backed up a step. "You don't yell and curse at me like that woman, you know your place."

I motioned for our group to step away. "We're leaving now. Do you want the tire or not? It's a Ford wheel so I'm sure it'll fit." John broke his glare at Bea and turned to me. "Yeah, throw it out and I'll get it in a minute." Angrily, he glared at Bea.

Sam said, "I can give you a hand putting it on, if you like."

John turned to Sam hatefully, "I don't need no damn help putting a wheel on. I'll take the tire, but if you try to follow me I'll shoot you dead. Leaving us alone is the safest thing you can do for yourselves."

Kira took my rifle when I handed it toward her. The tire and steel wheel was heavy as I wrestled it over the side of the bed and let it drop onto the road's surface. It bounced twice before it fell over where I left it lie. "Let's go. We've wasted enough time here."

Sam started the engine and drove a short ways before he made a right turn into the mall parking lot. Verlie turned to Kira. "How would you like that ole loon for a mate?"

Kira didn't smile. "I'd shoot the old bastard. No one should have to live with a nutcase like that. He didn't even have enough sense to say thanks after we helped with the zombies or offered the new tire."

I looked at Kria and in a deep voice said, "I'm a gonna have to teach you your place, old woman." Sam guffawed and Verlie said, "Good luck with that Tom Jacobs. You'll need it to tame this one." Kira slapped my leg, and we all had a good laugh and forced the grouchy, chauvinist pig, John Mitchell, from our thoughts.

For the rest of the day we shopped at two major department stores and took our pick of jeans, and every article of clothing and accessories to go with them. Talk about deep discounts. When we left we were in such a good mood we even stopped several times to make long distance head shots on zombies up to half a block away. They weren't a danger to us at that distance, but it was a fresh experience to shoot the stinking monsters for the fun of it instead of always reacting to escape their formidable group attacks.

We were all relaxed. A conversation many weeks ago with Frances filled my mind. I relayed it to the other three passengers. "She was adamant on noticing the original rotted zombies simply fall to the ground and stay there." I slowed the truck. "I'm seeing something here that may support what she said. Look across the ground in this wooded section. A few zombie bodies are scattered as far as you can see. They're not in groups as we normally find them when they attack us, so I doubt they've been shot. The reason we see them is because few weeds and scrubby bushes grow under the summer canopy of leaves. I'm thinking if we walked out through the weed covered fields we'd find zombies without damaged brains lying there where they've dropped." Thoughtful stares converged on me. "Let's watch closely on the way home, and see if we observe the undead dropping for no reason."

Over the next three hours, two zombies were seen dropping to the ground without being shot and not getting back up.

~*~*~*~

Shane came to me at the end of April. He was responsible for planting this years crops and had the ground tilled and ready. We'd taken over surrounding farm land that had lain fallow beside ours for the past three years. Tending a five acre apple and peach orchard, sixty acre's of wheat, twenty acres of field corn, one acre of oats, two acres of potatoes, one acre of sweet corn and a four acre vegetable garden would require long hours from all of our members, me included. Since there were no longer any grocery stores or farmer's markets, we realized we could work to feed ourselves or starve.

The previous harsh winter had frozen and ruined most of the canned foods packed in liquid that still remained in grocer's warehouses. In addition, lack of roof maintenance caused leaks that destroyed or badly damaged other dry foods like pasta, cake mixes, tea bags and dry cereals. Now it was up to us to provide as many of the basic cooking ingredients as we could. John Alton had designed large root cellars for the storage of root type vegetables like potatoes, turnips and carrots. Wooden barrels had been located for the storage of apples and pears.

One of the books we had taken from a library had a short paragraph that described the methods of food preservation we would need to employ:

In 1815 most Americans ate what they grew or hunted locally. Corn and beans were common, along with pork. In the north, cows provided milk, butter, and beef, while in the south, where cattle were less common, venison and other game provided meat. Preserving food in 1815, before the era of refrigeration, required smoking, drying, or salting meat. Vegetables were kept in a root cellar or pickled.

As a group we had our work cut out for us. It was learn by success and failure or go hungry. Luckily, we had an experienced farmer in our midst. Tony Osmond had grown up on a family farm in the region and came to us after his parents and a younger sister were victims of the zombies. I expected Tony and Shana Thompson to move in together at any time and add to the list of potential parents that continued to grow. Since a civil authority no longer existed to record marriage contracts, all of us who desired to mate simply cohabitated with a person of our choice.

~*~*~*~

On the third day of May, a Wednesday, Barney "Pops" Halcom, James Butler and Barbara Bales left Deliverance to search for horse drawn farm equipment. They planned to make stops along route 59 north to Worthington, Minnesota and then return on route 71. They would stop at farms along the way in hopes that some of the farmers had preserved equipment passed down through their families. A list would be made of any suitable equipment they found and trucks and trailers would then be scheduled to gather the items.

Before supper time, the Ford pickup they'd left in sped up the gravel drive to Deliverance creating a dust cloud behind it. I heard panic in James voice on the radio. "This is James. Whoever is on the watchtower, open the gate for us. I need Tom and the leadership committee to meet us ASAP. Pop's dead, he was shot."

Morgan and I were the first to arrive. Shane, Andrea, John and Ed were only a minute behind us. Barbara's eyes were red and she began to cry as we gathered. "Somebody shot Grandpa. He's dead. They just ambushed us and killed him for no reason."

Verlie had come out when the committee was requested because Barb was her daughter, and Barney was Morgan's father. She hugged Barbara close and took her inside. Many of our people exited the building and stood by. James stood by Morgan. "I'm so sorry Morgan. There was nothing we could do. They just shot Pop for no reason." Tears ran down Morgan's cheeks, but a hard glint shown in his eyes.

"James," I said, "start at the beginning and tell us everything that happened."

"We'd been stopping at farms along the highway and found a couple of things to bring back. The list is on the back seat. We were near the state line, about ten or so miles south of it when we crested a small rise and saw three stinky smellies standing in the road. They were about two hundreds yards off. Pop stopped the truck and grabbed that old Remington 700 he's partial to. He opened the door, dropped the glass, and put the rifle through the opening. He dropped all three of those zombies one right after the other, no misses. Then we heard another shot from a distance off, and Pop kind of grunted before he dropped to the ground. A blacktop road ran off the highway we were on and up a ways to a little hill. A dark blue truck sat there, a Dodge I'm sure. Barb and me were on the passenger side of the truck and ducked down as two more shots were fired. I heard air bleeding from a tire. They shot the front left tire. Me and Barb shot back and both of us emptied our mags before that truck took off and went flying over the hill. I don't know if we hit anybody, but I'm positive that truck's got a whole bunch of holes in it."

We'd just suffered another senseless loss of life to some lowlife outlaw scum. And there wasn't a thing we could do about it. We had no idea who it was or where they were from. The worst part was it could happen again at anytime. There was no way we could stay around Deliverance and not leave for items we needed.

I went to the office and told Kira, Vivian and Elsie Talbot what had happened. It was time to knock off for supper, so Vivian and Elsie left Kira and I alone. I was dejected and angry at the loss of Pops.  "He was a great guy, always ready to tell a joke, help with whatever was being done or help think of a better way of doing something. I didn't know him very long, but I'll miss him."

She nodded as she sat in a chair to rest. Being on her feet for long periods was getting harder. "So will his family. They all loved him and looked up to him. He was an outstanding family patriarch. We'll all miss him. That said, you now have to put it behind you and move on."

"I know I must, and I will. But it's so senseless. I accept death at the hands of the zombies. They're our enemies and we know the danger of encountering them. It's a fact of life today. But there was no reason, except for plain meanness, to kill an innocent man who wasn't a threat to his killer. What the hell goes through the minds of people like that? If I had that bastard here right now I'd gladly put a bullet through his head and the heads of any more like him. That behavior is animalistic and disgusting."

Kira moved to sit on my lap, and I rubbed her expansive belly. "There have always been people like that, and they'll always exist; they're called serial killers. Law enforcement couldn't prevent them in the past, and now without the law they feel free to do as they please. If there's such a thing as true justice, we'll eventually learn who they are and deal with them."

She kissed me, and I hugged her tightly. "I love you, woman. Thanks for letting me blow off pressure. I'm not real hungry, but let's grab a bite before they close the kitchen."