“Cover your face!” I yelled to the girl. I didn’t want her to get splashed with blood.
I brought down the Crovel and sliced his head like a watermelon. I repeated the action with the other Zed, pulled him away and sliced his brain in two.
Zombie moans outside. They’re coming in the house again.
I surveyed the situation, but there was too much going on. There were several females and one guy that were all up and standing in semi-defensive stances. Plus a few that seemed to be down. Nobody had any guns, just some garden rakes and pieces of wood, a baseball bat. They were all terrified, whimpering, and seemed ready to give up. They were also mostly in skirts and heels, which seemed odd to me. The Unimog had room for these people. My cabin had room as my buddies didn’t seem to be coming. It is kind of lonely up there… I made a snap-decision.
I took off my helmet to show them I was just a regular guy.
“You guys want to get out of here?”
A chorus of “Fuck yeahs!” and other affirmatives followed, until this older woman stepped forward from the others. And by older, I mean she was probably my age. She was the one that was fighting off a Zed earlier but was now tending to a girl on the floor.
“Do you have any medical supplies?” she asked, desperately. “First aid kit? Food? What? I’m responsible for these girls.”
She was stunning. Her medium length black hair was a mess. She was filthy; blood and grime on her face, and I thought she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. Kind of Latino looking, maybe, or Italian.
“Lady, I’ve got everything you need.” Jesus! Did that sound stupid or what? Let me try that again.
“I mean, I’ve got a secure place, food, first aid, more guns, you’ll be safe. Safer than here.” She thought about it for a moment. I held out my hand. “It’s now or never, sweetheart.”
The zombie moans from downstairs pretty much sealed the deal. “They’re coming up again,” said one of the girls.
“Let’s go,” the lady said.
– – –
“Any of you ever shot a gun before?” I asked with not much hope.
“I have,” this tiny, dirty-blonde haired girl spoke up. “My dad’s a master sergeant in the Corps. I’ve shot M-4s and AR-15s a lot.”
“Ok,” I said, handing her the gun. “Show me. Clear the weapon.”
She dropped out the mag, pulled the charging handle which ejected the round in the chamber.
“Ok, I guess you do know what you’re doing. Here.” I handed her two full 30-round mags. “Watch the stairs. We’re going out the roof here.”
She slapped in a mag and put the other in her blouse. She chambered a round.
“Rock and roll!” she said with gusto. She fired a shot down the stairs. Then a couple more.
“Got em!” she hollered. “Fuck yeah!”
“Good girl! Shot placement, don’t waste ammo. Somebody get my helmet!”
Blake, the dude of the bunch, helped me with the downed girl. She was bleeding pretty badly from a wound to her back, her clothing was in shreds. It was hard to maneuver her because we were trying not to touch her back. The pretty lady was helping too. Turns out this wounded girl was her daughter. We finally got outside, and saw more zombies. They saw us, too, and moaned. Just for fun, I guess. They already moaned once. Why are they still moaning?
“Hey!” I yelled to the house. “What’s that chick’s name? The shooter? We need her out here!”
“That’s Erin,” a gal said. “I’ll get her.”
“Okay then. Some of you barricade the stairs so we don’t get caught from behind.” They started dragging a bureau across the floor.
Erin came outside and let out a “Holy fuck” as she saw the Zeds converging on my truck.
“Start shooting, sweetie. Stay on this side, though, I’ll get the other side. And you. Yeah you.”
“Tina,” a gal said.
“Tina. Hi. Spot for her. Tell her which ones are closest. Kill the closest ones first, then work your way out. Here, hold these two magazines. Don’t throw away the empties.”
Zed was out in full force, but we needed to move. Erin was proving to be a dead-eye, though. Necros were falling everywhere. I pulled out my .45 and clicked off the safety.
“Guys, I’m going down to clear them out over here.”
I hopped down on the hood of the Mog and killed a couple right by the driver’s door of the truck.
Bam Bam! Another one over here… Bam! And here… Bam! Bam! shit missed Bam! Bam! Bam! click! Oh yeah, only eight rounds in my .45. Gotta keep better track when I’m shooting.
Dropped out the mag and slammed another one in. Bam! got the shit head! Then I jumped down on the ground as we now had a little breathing room. I waved down a couple girls, put them in the backseat of the truck as I started it up. Uh oh. Here comes an ugly fucker… Bam! Went to the back of the truck and cleared that area out. Bam! Bam!
“Clear!” I hollered up to the girls. “Bring down the hurt girl! Then everyone else. Erin, you keep watch!”
Not as gently as we would have liked, we got the injured girl down and into the camper box of the truck. The other girls struggled getting down and got inside. Finally, Erin scampered off the top like a pro. She killed a couple more as they neared us.
“You’ve got ‘shotgun'”, I said, meaning the front seat with me.
We pulled out slowly, squishing dead heads and bodies as we went. The truck lurched and heaved side to side as we listened to the sickening sounds. Two or three days ago, these were moms and dads, shopkeepers, barbers, high school kids… today they are just dead meat walking. This world sucks.
“There’s one!” called out Erin.
“Here, try this one instead.” I handed her the suppressed .22. It was quieter. She took aim.
Clack! (miss) Clack!
“Got her!” she exclaimed. She shot a few more on our way out of town. She’s really liking this, it seems. Her face glowed. The other three girls in the back seat mostly just whimpered and sniffed a little.
= = = = = = = = = = = =
Chapter 3 – The Arrival
= = = = = = = = = = = =
We got up to my compound. Locked the gate as I was sure we would have some followers. Found out that the hurt girl was Lorraine and the mother was named Gayle. We brought Lorraine inside to our little medical room. Yes, we actually have a room for this. Like a tiny doctors office. She was barely conscious, but I got her to swallow some water and Oxycontin and amoxicillan. I couldn’t help notice that, underneath her torn blouse, Lorraine had tremendous breasts. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.
I told Tina to take the girls in the kitchen, open up some cans of chili and start warming them up. Told her about the cornbread mix and butter flakes, and that they should all drink a lot of water.
Back to the injured Lorraine. As I mentioned earlier, I’m the data guy. My buddy David was the Medical Man. He took all the Red Cross training and CERT classes and studied the books and shit. I hate blood. Especially mine. But I’m not too fond of other people’s blood, either.
Gayle looked at me as if to say, ‘Well, fix her up!’ I took a deep breath and pretended I was a doctor.
I cleaned the wound as best I could. Got out the needle and suture thread, and stitched her up. Fortunately, Lorraine had passed out by this time. My stitches would have made the Frankenstein creature blush, they were that bad. But they seemed to hold the skin together. I slathered her with antibiotic ointment and bandaged her up. Throughout it all, I couldn’t help but notice that no matter how pretty her mother was, this injured girl was even prettier. I mean stunning. And, hopefully, eighteen. Jesus, I should be thinking that hopefully she doesn’t die!
I had Gayle tell me some of their story, how the girls got here and stuff. I was trying to keep her mind off of what a bad job I was doing.
They were at a funeral home in Denver when one of the dead people got up and started biting folks. They lost some of their people. Gayle was trying to be strong, helping me, trying to re-assure me that my doctoring was fine. I finished the last bandage.
“That’s the best I can do, Gayle.”
Now that it was over, she looked at me with tears in her eyes.
“If you hadn’t come along when you did… (sniff)… and killed those… things… (sniff) Jesus… we’d all be… we’d all be dead right now!”
She fell in my arms, sobbing. I hugged her, comforted her, patted her back, told her it was alright. But she really needed the emotional release and just cried for several minutes.
Tina came in to say dinner was ready, I told her we’d be out in a little bit. She nodded, understanding.
Gayle began to come back to normal. “I, I don’t know how to thank you… I don’t even know your name! Oh I’m such an ass!”
“Shhh… it’s okay sweetie… I’m Michael. Michael Larson.”
“Gayle Sanchez. Well, thank you, Michael. You’ve saved my life and my daughter’s… May I give you a kiss?”
She tentatively looked at me. I smiled and moved in to meet her halfway.
Our lips met in a gentle, chaste kiss. I guess I thought it would go for maybe a second at the most. But we stayed there for several seconds… then I squeezed her a little tighter and our kiss became a little more passionate. She squeezed me back as our lips pressed harder against each other. I became extremely conscious of her breasts pressing into me, and my cock started to stiffen. Her breathing increased, along with mine, our mouths opened a bit, and sure enough, our tongues met at the same time. She was dirty, smelled a little, and her hair was completely dysfunctional; I wanted her badly.
My cock roared to full attention as her moist tongue darted around mine. It pressed into her waist. My hand slid down to her skirt, I could feel the bare skin of her back.
“Are you guys coming or what?” Tina shouted down the hall to us.
We broke the kiss.
“Coming!” I answered back as we disentangled.
Gayle looked at my bulging pants. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–”
“No no, it’s okay, really!”
“Oh god what’s wrong with me? My daughter is hurt and I’m acting all trampy…”
“No sweetie, it’s just your emotions are running high right now. It’s fine–”
But she turned and walked towards the dining area.
I needed another minute or two to calm down. I mean, wow, what a kiss! She was so pretty, though. I thought of my history with pretty women who ended up being selfish, and tried to get Gayle out of my mind.
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