The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 1): Awakening (8 page)

              I heard movement again over near the desk.  I readied my knife, just in case.  Moving slowly, I approached and dipped low so I could see underneath.  Four furry legs were pacing back and forth. 

                “Are you kidding me?” I said aloud. 

              The head of a German Shepherd poked out from around the desk.  He wasn’t fully grown, but still pretty big at around seventy or so pounds.  I wondered if it had been Sage’s puppy.  My family had dogs growing up, but they were always little rat dogs that annoyed the hell out of me.  My mother said they gave our family character.  They upgraded in their retirement and adopted a Golden Retriever that my dad would take hunting with him.

              I had a problem.  Dogs barked.  Dogs made noise.  I couldn’t take him with me.  Well, he probably wouldn’t come with me to begin with.  From what I’d heard, shepherds were only loyal to one person, and he already had a master, though the master was probably dead. 

Things made sense to me now.  Sage was the mother of this dog and had died protecting her puppy.  I knew German Shepherds, let alone a police trained canine, could be vicious. The shepherd really did a number on her former owner. But when you can’t cause pain to the walking dead, it’s just a matter of time before the zombie will win.

              As much as I didn’t want to get bitten by this dog, or take it with me, my conscience told me I couldn’t leave him here to die of starvation either.  He already looked weak.  Probably hadn’t had water in a few days.  I could at least leave the back door and gate open outside.  Then he would have a fighting chance. 

              “Alright pup, come on.  Let’s get you out of here.”  He seemed to respond by tilting his head.  He wasn’t aggressive, which made me happy.  I decided if it started to bark I would leave it behind. 

I backed up out of the room and he slowly followed me.  He hesitated at the body of the zombie on the floor, gave a sniff, and then continued toward me.  I decided that if he was going to come, good, but if not, screw him.  I turned around and walked to the kitchen to check out the pantry. 

              I hit pay dirt.  There were two bags of beef jerky, along with a loaf of bread that hadn’t started to mold yet.  There were also fourteen cans of random food and a case of water bottles.  I think they had just gone shopping before the world went to hell, because the bread was still soft.  I loaded it all up, along with a jar of peanut butter, and moved to the fridge.  I only opened it for a second and the smell hit me.  With no power, things went bad a lot quicker.  I shut the fridge door, and decided it wasn’t worth it.  I couldn’t carry much more anyway.

              The puppy had followed me and was sniffing around his dead mother’s carcass.  A soft whine was coming from him.  I didn’t think of it when I was at John’s house, but dogs didn’t change into zombies.  Neither of his dogs nor this one was moving, and both had been dead over a day.  That was good news.  The idea of crazy zombie dogs was not that appealing.

On the side of one of the cabinets was a picture of the dead shepherd with a litter of puppies around it.  The date read just under a year ago.  They must have given up all the pups but this one.

              At the bottom of the pantry there was a large bag of dog food.  I read the price tag and realized these people only bought the best for their pups.  The beef jerky was probably for them.  I opened the bag and scooped some of the dog food onto the floor.  The shepherd came over and dove in, eating the small pile in seconds. 

              “Must be hungry,” I said to him.  I threw down another pile, larger than the one before.  I turned around and started going through the cabinets, searching for a bowl.  Finding one, I filled it with water from one of the water bottles and set it next to the nearly finished new pile of food.  He started lapping it up before it even reached the floor. 

              “What’s your name, boy?” I asked as I started to pet him on the back of the neck.  He flinched, but allowed me to stroke his mane.  I reached down and looked at his dog tag.  “Boomer,” I said.  I thought that was a neat name.

              He seemed to respond to it and panted for a second, then continued to drink.  I kneeled down and told him it was going to be alright and that he was free.  When he finished the water, he turned to me and licked my face.  At first, I was thought he was attacking me.  He wasn’t fully grown yet, but a seventy pound dog was still pretty damn intimidating when it jumps up on you.  After a few seconds, I pushed him down. 

              “Alright, let’s get you out of here.”  He followed me out of the back door and to the gate of the privacy fence.  I did my checks before I left and didn’t see anything moving around. 

I walked out of the gate with Boomer on my heels.

“Go on, boy, get going,” I told him.  I really didn’t want a dog around.  Instead of leaving, though, he just sat there and anxiously looked up at me. 

              “Damn dog, get out of here,” I said a little louder.  He ignored my command.  I sighed in frustration and tossed a piece of beef jerky out into his yard.  He excitedly ran after it and I briskly rounded the fence and out of Boomer’s sight.

I heard him approaching from behind me and cursed.  Then the stupid dog actually galloped in front of me, looking back every few seconds to make sure he was still going in the right direction.  I shook my head in irritation, but wasn’t sure there was much I could do.  I moved along the side of the house trying to stay as concealed as possible.  I didn’t see any zombies lurking around.

              Boomer stopped at the edge of the house on the end of my street, and looked back at me.  His ears were perked as he kept looking at the corner of the house.  He started to back away.  I don’t know why, but it felt like he was talking to me.  Without even looking, he was saying something bad is around this corner.

              I walked past him and he lightly grabbed my pant leg and tugged backwards.  He whined.  It was barely audible, but I could still hear it.  He was warning me.  I guess Boomer was smarter than I was.  Maybe it was the police training that was passed down to the pup.

Ignoring him, I peered around the corner and saw a corpse lying next to the house under the shade of the roof.  But he wasn’t lying there doing nothing.  He was munching on a bush.  He would bite near the base of a branch and scrape his teeth along the length while taking all the leaves in his mouth.  I could hear the crunching of the thick bushy leaves as he chomped and chewed on them. Half the bush had been stripped.  That was different. 

I was intrigued at what the zombie was doing, but I also had a sense of urgency to get back to my house.  The longer I stayed outside, the more risk I was putting on myself. 

The zombie, however, was in my way.  If I were to try and go around him, he would follow me for sure.  I didn’t see any other zombies on my street, so I decided to take the easy way out. 

              After quickly plugging my ears, I took out my gun and slowly leveled it at his head.  It was hard because I was using my left hand, too scared to expose my full body.  When I was sure that I had the zombie in my sights, I pulled the trigger.  Thankfully, the blast from my Glock was not nearly as bad as when I had shot the gun indoors without ear protection.

My shot was true and hit him near the temple.  He slumped over, collapsing into the half eaten bush.  I didn’t waste any time and bolted toward the street and to the safety of my home.  I didn’t know, nor care, if Boomer was behind me.

              Halfway across the street, I saw them.  Six of the walking dead were coming out from around houses, alerted by the gunshot.  Running directly to my house would undoubtedly draw them to my doorstep.  I decided to run around my neighbor’s house, which thankfully did not have a fence. 

I noticed Boomer was now hot on my heels.  The zombies were moving slowly, but I was not going to slow down and give them the chance to catch up. I rounded the house, sprinted across my neighbor’s back yard and moved to my fence. I tossed my backpack into my yard and holstering my gun before I hopped over.

              By the time I was in my yard, Boomer had jumped on the outside of my fence.  He whined when he couldn’t get over. 

I grabbed my bag and harshly whispered, “Go on…get outta here!”  He ignored me and jumped on the fence again.  I started to leave but the groans caught my attention.  They were getting close to rounding my neighbor’s house and Boomer wasn’t leaving. 

              “Damn it dog!” I cursed.  I went back and helped him over. 

We both ran toward the patio and I decided not to open the back door because they would have definitely seen it.  I slumped down, just in time, next to our patio table and watched as they rounded the corner of the house.  They were looking around, and spreading in all directions.  I figured they just go to the last place they see you.  They looked lost and confused. 

              Surprisingly, Boomer was lying next to me as quiet as the dead.  We both stayed there for a half an hour until they either lost interest or the sun became too much for them.  They finally left, seeking refuge somewhere else.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I had just rescued my new best friend.

Chapter 7

Time for an Adventure

April 3
nd
  Morning

              Boomer and I bonded over the next couple of days.  I had moved my mattress out into the living room earlier so that I could sleep in the middle of the house.  Boomer slept next to me each night, and alerted me every time a zombie made its way too close to the house.  He didn’t bark, but gave a slight whine and a nudge me with his cold, wet nose. 

If any zombie would come near the window or door during the day, Boomer would move to that location and give me a sign, alerting me to the danger.  First, his body would freeze up like a statue, ears perked, head cocked to one side, and then he would prowl over to me and give me the same warning he would at night, wet nose and all. 

The day after I found him, I made my way back to John’s house and retrieved all of his dog food and his doggy treats.  Boomer became my only living friend.  I guess listening to my conscience wasn’t such a bad thing, even if it came in the form of my father’s voice.   

              I took it easy the next few days in order to continue to let my shoulder heal, stayed quiet, and whispered conversations with Boomer.  It wasn’t easy to do.  I got bored pretty fast without electricity.  I started reading some of Dave’s books to pass the time.  One of them was a book about survival.  It was written by some ex-Special Forces guy, and had a lot of good information.  In the book there were tips on how to survive in the wilderness.  It contained information on how to keep dry, stay hydrated, start a fire, find edible plants, etc.  Half the book I just skimmed over.  I wasn’t in the wilderness, so I didn’t see much need for it. I put the book into my bug out bag.  If I ever did have to beat feet and leave the city, then it might be useful. 

              It had been just over a week and I was already growing accustomed to my new situation.  I had Boomer to thank for that.  I probably would have gone nuts without him.  Just like dogs, humans are pack animals who need companionship.  I even held conversations with him.  Maybe I was going a little crazy, but I needed someone to talk to, even if they couldn’t talk back. 

              On one of my passive days of staying in and around my house, Boomer gave me an alert which was a little different than usual.  He froze as normal, with perked ears, but that time his head tilted back and forth.  He didn’t sniff at all, and didn’t come over to me like usual.  He was listening to something. 

              A minute later, I heard it too.  It was a small, buzzing sound.  It was growing louder, and I was reminded of the time I was leaving the airfield in Afghanistan.  It was the sound of a C130 cargo plane that the Air Force flew.  Certain sounds you could never forget, and from what Boomer and I were hearing that day, it was pretty far off.

              I took a chance and went out the back door with Boomer in tow.  I would like to note that the smell of Sarah and Dave’s headless bodies were pretty ripe, but at least they were lying motionless in the middle of my yard and not bashing in my windows. 

It was early afternoon and the sky was spotted with white clouds.  I looked up in the sky, and didn’t see anything at first.  Then, it appeared from behind a cloud.  It was south bound, flying directly over the middle of the city.  Its altitude was pretty high, so I didn’t think they were flying around looking for survivors.  They probably couldn’t see a car moving from that height anyway. 

              Boomer was facing the aircraft too, fixed on the direction of the sound.  Then, his ears perked up even more, and a second later I heard a high pitched whining sound, and then a loud, echoing pop.  The cargo plane kept flying south.  No directional change or anything.  And that was that.  After waiting for another ten minutes or so, I went back in.  I guess I had hoped more would follow.

              It was both exciting and depressing.  Exciting because it meant there was some sort of government left.  I doubted survivors would be flying a C130 around just for kicks, or to get an aerial view of the beaches.  They were on some sort of mission.  The depressing part was that their mission wasn’t to come save the citizens of Palm Bay or Melbourne.

              It was the first sign of life I had seen since Sarah.  I knew there were other survivors out there.  Each night was filled with the sound of moans and shuffling as zombies took to the streets, and not a night went by that I didn’t hear a gunshot somewhere out in the city.  But just because I knew they were out there didn’t mean I knew where they were. 

              Boomer helped me on my next couple of runs to pick up supplies.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t jump fences, which was a major handicap for scavenging runs.  Sneaking into broken out windows was a little tough, but it was worth it.  Boomer didn’t particularly care to be hoisted up over the window sills, but after the third house, he got used to it.

I didn’t have to worry about zombies in a house that I planned on raiding.  He gave dead giveaways every time I wanted to check out an infested house.  With my new best friend, I knew whenever there was a zombie lurking around a corner or hidden behind a bush or tree.  It was great.  We made quite the team.

              During one of our runs, we came across a prospect for a new home about three blocks from where I lived.  Three blocks is a thousand miles in zombie world, but I felt confident with Boomer at my side.

              The house was only a couple of years old and sat on a corner lot.  It probably wasn’t the best position for security, but it did allow for a good vantage point.  I could see solar panels on the roof, and it had a four foot high black iron fence in the front yard.  The backyard had a newly built wooden privacy fence.  There were no vehicles in the driveway either, which meant there was a chance the house was empty. 

The big bonus was that this home had hurricane shutters, and they were already up and attached to the windows.  Newer homes in Florida were required to have hook ups for hurricane shutters when they were built.  They are panels that would screw over the windows.  Most were metal, as they were in the case of the house I was standing in front of.  I thought the owners of this home were probably worried about burglaries during the crisis, and hung the shutters before they left.  That meant that zombies had not bashed in the windows.  It looked like a fortress compared to where I was living.

              Boomer and I were able to sneak up to the front door and found that it was locked.  I could have easily gotten a screwdriver to remove some of the panels that held the shutters on, then busted in a window, but I wanted this house intact.  That meant breaking down the front door wasn’t an option either.

I moved over to the privacy fence and saw that these owners had a padlock on the gate.  It was one of those heavy duty ones and I would need a large pair of bolt cutters to get it off.

              On the way back to my house I decided that I would cut the lock on the fence.  I saw no other choice.  Even if I had to bust a window, I would prefer it to be in the back yard rather than the front.  But I didn’t have any bolt cutters, nor did I see any in the houses I had cleared.  I contemplated going back to those houses and doing a more thorough search.

              In the end I made the decision to do something different.  I had yet to traverse out of my neighborhood, and was scared to try.  If I wanted to survive, I would eventually have to leave.  I would just have to be extra careful.  There was also the prospect of running into another survivor.  I was a little leery of that because of what had happened with Sarah.  After that fiasco I knew I couldn’t reveal the fact that I had been bitten by a zombie.  Luckily, my wound was healing nicely and I thought I may be able to pass it off as something else.

              I decided that the best place for me to go was an Ace Hardware about five miles down the road.  We had a couple of them in Palm Bay, which were smaller and more convenient than the larger hardware stores. 

I wouldn’t walk, though, because that would just be suicide.  I had no idea how many zombies there were or how they would be dispersed.  I could easily get surrounded and not even know it. 

That night I added some equipment to my scavenging gear.  I would have my car, so I wasn’t too worried about my weight.  I took Dave’s ammo vest and loaded it up with eight magazines for one of the AR-15’s.  I decided on the one with the red dot scope on it.  Chances were that I would not attempt to snipe any of those things from a distance.

              I also took out two packages of MRE’s just in case the trip took longer than expected, or I got pinned down over night.  I loaded up my backpack with both solar and one battery powered flashlight.  I also took along the things I brought with me to my house raids, including my Glock with four back-up magazines. 

              That night, I started making a list of things I would need.  I thought I might as well take advantage of the free shopping.  I listed a couple of padlocks, a few other tools, and some way to distil water.  Florida was known for its afternoon showers, but I knew bugs and bacteria would easily pollute any water I collected because of our tropical weather.  The pipes had lost water pressure a few days earlier and even the water I had stored in my house was getting dangerously low. 

              One of the things that topped my shopping list was solar power. Charging my solar flashlights daily had given me an idea.  There were plenty of solar lights that lined people’s driveways.  I thought if I could pick up a few new ones at the store, I could light the inside of that house every night and charge them during the day. 

For over a week I had been venturing out of my house amongst creatures that wanted nothing more than to eat me. That had increased my bravado which, of course, violated a rule of mine.  But staying in my neighborhood would probably end with me starving to death.  The thought of the unknown beyond my neighborhood made me apprehensive while I tried to sleep that night.  I probably only slept for two or three hours.

I was pretty tired when I woke up the next morning.  The idea of doing something new was a little elevating, and helped me suppress the growing anxiety in my stomach.  Boomer seemed excited too.  It was like he knew we were going to be doing something different.  I did all of my normal checks around my house before I loaded up the car. 

Closing the car doors must have been louder than I thought, because two zombies started shambling their way in my direction.  They were more than a hundred feet away. Deciding they were nothing for Boomer and me to worry about, I started the car and headed out of my neighborhood.

              I noticed more and more vegetation missing over the last few days.  As I rounded out of my neighborhood and on to one of the main roads, I saw more of the same.  Bushes ranged from being partially stripped to completely bare.  Even the trees were not spared with their low lying branches stripped to nothing. There were some that were untouched which gave the landscape a very odd and creepy appearance.  I also saw lines of grass that had been ripped out by the roots, just like what was done in my backyard.  I realized it was Dave that had mowed the lawn. 

              Other than the emaciated vegetation, I didn’t notice much of a difference from when I tried to make it to one of the FEMA camps the day I had shot Dave.  I would pass the occasional zombie who would immediately turn and try to follow me, but most seemed to be off hiding somewhere.  It was an eerie feeling.  If I had only the day time to go by, I would think there were just a few zombies.  In contrast, at night I would see up to fifty and heard many more pass by my house.  That’s not even including the chorus of zombies I could hear off in the city as the sun went down.

              I made it to the intersection where I saw the bald man get ravaged on the first day of the Awakening.  His body was gone, and any blood that had been there was washed away by the various spurts of rain that had rolled through over the past few weeks.  The car that had been smoking from the accident was now half burnt.

              I turned south toward the hardware store.  It was pretty much a straight drive, with mostly trees, bushes and grass on either side.  Road offshoots led to giant neighborhoods behind the vegetation.  And like the other plants around my neighborhood, these showed signs of the zombies as well.  I wondered how long it would take for them to strip all the plant life in the city.  Florida vegetation grew pretty fast with the heat and amount of rain it received.  I doubt they could keep up with it.

              In the next large intersection, there was a fire truck parked in the middle with other cars pulled over or stopped in the middle of the road. I wondered what had happened there.  Why would people just stop in the middle of Armageddon and get out of their cars? 

              There was an old gas station on my left, with another one across the road to the south of it.  To my right, there was a storage complex, and across from that was a huge L shaped strip mall.  That strip mall was where the hardware store was, along with a chain grocery store, a large clothing outlet, and a host of smaller businesses.  There were also various fast food buildings lining the edges of the giant parking lot.  I thought to myself that if this run was successful, I could make regular trips down here to stock up on other items that I may need.

              It wasn’t easy, but I continued on through the intersection.  I almost got stuck between two vehicles.  I scraped the side of my car, which made a very unwanted loud screech.  Not bothering to see if I had alerted anything or anyone, I pressed the gas and kept heading south.  The hardware store was near the road, so I wouldn’t have to worry about driving deep into the parking lot, which had random cars spaced throughout.