Sever, p.27
Sever, page 27
That turned Nick’s anger into thoughtful reflection; he was a businessman too, after all. He didn’t continue his father’s farm out of altruistic ideals or some type of environmentalist statement; there’d been money to be made in the organic farming business and he’d grown up helping his father before he passed, so he knew where to start and how to turn a profit. The fact that all of the big city folks who ate his organic produce and sent cards and letters to the farming association about how appreciative they were of their farming methods was just an added perk.
Nick ended up purchasing the fuel at double the normal rate and then went over to the Cracker Barrel for breakfast. That had been closed, so next he tried Shoney’s, then McDonalds, Burger King and even Taco Bell. Everything in Emporia was locked up tight. Finally, he returned to the gas station and paid way too much for two of those crappy egg and sausage sandwiches that were under the heater for several hours. He should have known better because his stomach hurt and he still had a full day of work ahead of him.
He winced as he took a sip of the garbage that the gas station passed off as coffee and put the cup back in his cup holder as he drove slowly down the abandoned road toward Jim’s place. He’d gotten the chores done on his farm before he came into town this morning, but Jim’s herd still needed to be fed, watered and some hay put out so they could munch on that during the day and remain active. It wasn’t hard work over at Jim’s place, but it sure as heck was time consuming.
Nick considered gunning the engine and speeding down the main strip of town. He’d grown up here and had always wanted to race down Atlantic Street. Because of the interstate and highway intersections though, the police had always been too numerous for him to waste his hard-earned money on a speeding ticket. Now it seemed like even the cops had left Emporia. It was just Nick and the open road.
Sure, it was reckless and wasteful of the fuel that he’d just put in the truck. Yes, he was a grown man and should have outgrown those types of youthful urges. But, the idea brought a smile to his face, something that didn’t happen often these days since Janie left him and took the kids to her mother’s last year. No one else was around; what harm would there be if he drove like a maniac?
The fact that there wasn’t anyone around to get hurt by his actions clinched it for him and he pressed the accelerator to the floor. The old truck shot straight down the road toward the eastern end of town at over 65 miles per hour. Everything sped by faster than he would have thought imaginable before this happened and he laughed out loud at the stupid joy that something so simple brought to his heart. He took the slight angle at the church and then buried the pedal for the long three-quarter mile straight stretch. The old farm truck hit 90 and began to shake in the back end, so he eased off the gas and eventually slowed enough to take the hard southward turn toward Jim’s farm.
Nick was still smiling broadly when he pulled into Jim’s driveway. The fact that he’d driven 90 miles per hour in the middle of town was exhilarating to the lifelong resident of Emporia. That kind of high would last all day long while he did the chores on both of the farms. He whistled happily to himself while he went about the business of feeding the cattle and let the repetitive nature of the tasks carry his mind away from the worries of Janie and the zombie outbreak up in the northern part of the country.
He was almost done at Jim’s farm when movement near the edge of the fence line a few hundred feet away caught his eye. Something was different about the flash of movement that Nick had seen in his periphery. It wasn’t a cow or deer, he’d grown up with those his whole life and he no longer noticed their movements. He stared at the spot where his brain had registered the movement, but nothing else showed up.
Nick wasn’t a big believer in the whole extra sensory perception thing, but the hairs on the back of his neck were sticking straight up and something wasn’t right about the situation. Then he realized that something else was wrong. The woods, normally so alive and vibrant with animal sounds, were quiet. He’d been so busy working and then searching for the source of the movement that he’d seen that he didn’t realize that the birds and even the incessant barking of the squirrels had stopped.
“Forget this nonsense,” Nick muttered and set down the bag of grain that rested on his shoulder. The cows could go a day without the final little bit of grain and without their hay, Jim would understand.
He walked quickly back to the grain room and threw the latch to make sure that the door would stay shut. Jim would understand him not feeding the herd, but if a few of them got into that grain room, they’d eat themselves to death. Nick had seen cattle do that before; it wasn’t a pretty sight. The cow’s sides had bloated up to over twice their original size as the enzymes in the animal’s stomach digested the grain and produced gas that couldn’t be released fast enough. They’d called the vet and she used tubes, inserted through muscle in the beast’s sides, to try and vent the gas from each of the animal’s four stomachs. In the end, after two days of cleaning nasty day-glow green ooze that constantly plugged the tubes in order to keep them clear to vent the foul-smelling gases, the beast had died anyways. The meat had been poisoned by the gasses and wasn’t safe for human consumption, so they had to haul the carcass off for the coyotes to eat. No sir, even if he was scared of something in the woods, Nick wasn’t going to let that happen to any of Jim’s cows on his watch.
It only took a couple of minutes to secure the feed room and get most of the farming implements put back where the dumb animals wouldn’t hurt themselves trying to get into the barn. When he was done, the sense of things being out of place remained and he made a beeline for his truck. He didn’t even bother to take off his boots, which were covered in cow manure, before he’d thrown the truck into gear and tore down Jim’s long driveway.
Nick slammed on the brakes. A shuffling mass of humanity blocked the exit onto the state road. Bloody, dejected and clothed in all manners of dress, they looked like refugees from a movie to Nick. They were moving around Jim’s fence and then onto the street, headed toward town. “What in the world?” he said out loud.
Several of the people noticed him and turned down the driveway away from the main group, which continued its slow walk toward town. Nick was unsure of what to do. Something about them wasn’t right. They walked funny, like they were… “Oh shit!” he cursed, which was something that he rarely did.
He knew that what he was seeing were the zombies that he’d thought were so far away, up near Richmond and further north in Pennsylvania. These creatures had somehow made it all the way to Emporia without the authorities learning about it. Or maybe the police knew, but they’d been killed before they had the opportunity to tell anyone, his mind rationalized. Whatever the reason, he was in a world of danger.
The Ford protested his efforts to shift it into reverse and the grinding of the truck’s gears caused more of the zombies to take notice of him and break off from the horde to follow the sounds down the driveway. Finally, the truck went into gear and he sped backward down the gravel road toward Jim’s farm.
About halfway down, he eased up on the gas pedal and took in his surroundings. The fence that ran next to Jim’s driveway stopped more of the creatures as they drifted from the woods up toward the noise of his truck. He’d helped his neighbor replace the fence last fall, so he knew that it should hold for a little while, but the things were pushing hard against it, heedless of the five strands of barbed wire tearing into their skin.
Then, he saw it. His manure-covered boot slipped completely off the accelerator and the truck drifted to a halt. One of the creatures seemed to stare right at him. It looked different than the others. Its skin was the color of wheat ready for the harvest and had the weathered look of old leather. Nick felt his bladder release and a warm sensation filled his crotch and then under his rear end as the urine seeped along the vinyl seat. He swore to God that the thing smiled at him.
You will die.
“What?” He whipped his head wildly from side to side in a panic to figure out who’d talked to him. He slid his foot back onto the gas pedal and pressed it down. If he could make it to Jim’s house, he would be alright.
The truck accelerated slowly back down the driveway and he struggled to keep it under control at speed. Then, through the back window he saw the fence give out as the hooks that held the wire to the T-posts stretched from the pressure of all those zombies and the barbed wire fell away. Creatures tumbled into the roadway behind him and he hit several of them. The truck’s big back bumper plowed them underneath until the truck’s rear axle became high-centered on the bodies and its tires lost contact with the ground.
He shifted the truck into low gear and tried to move forward and then back into reverse to get off the pile of bodies. Nothing worked, he was stuck. Hands began to beat against the side of the vehicle and he knew that his chance at escape was gone. There was no way that he’d be able to make a run for it through the growing crowd.
Stupid human. Like all the others.
The voice sounded loud in his head once again and he realized that it wasn’t coming from someone speaking to him, they were inside his head. “What do you want?” he whimpered.
Death.
The crowd of bodies parted in front of the truck. The creature that he’d noticed earlier walked toward him. It didn’t have the odd hitch in its step that so many of the others seemed to display and the thing oozed confidence as it stared at him through the windshield.
“Go away!” he shouted.
Your time has ended.
The truck began to rock even harder as the creatures pressed in close began to beat and claw at the sides in earnest. The back end slid several inches as the creatures on the passenger side hit the vehicle harder than those on the left. Nick felt the truck slide off the pile of bodies and one of the tires touched the ground.
“Go to hell!” he cried and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
The engine roared and the rear tires spun on the bloody gore that had spilled from the first creatures that he’d hit, but they wouldn’t catch. The slippery mess was too much for the old, bald tires to grab any traction and the creatures pressed close didn’t allow for any type of momentum to begin.
The engine continued to roar as the creature in front of him slammed both hands down on the hood of the truck. Enough! You are beaten, human. Join the Followers.
Nick took his foot off the gas and bent down to reach under the seat where he’d stashed his pistol. His fingers curled around the heavy rubberized grip that the sheriff had warned him several times about keeping in his vehicle. Sheriff Newman could kiss his hind end for all he cared. If he was going to meet God today, it would be on his terms.
Slowly and deliberately, he brought out the Smith & Wesson Model 460 that he used to hunt deer. The double action handgun’s 10.5-inch barrel, massive .460 Magnum cartridge and the 10Xs scope that rested on top made the pistol the perfect handgun for hunting. He’d eschewed the rifle in favor of the pistol almost a decade prior when he read a magazine article about the skill and challenge associated with handgun hunting. Now, he was thankful that the weapon was also maneuverable in the small space of the truck cab.
There were only five rounds in the pistol. The rest of his ammo was at home in the closet, so he’d have to make each one count. He briefly considered taking his own life, but that was a sin and a guaranteed one-way ticket to Hell, which wasn’t an option. What am I gonna do? he wondered.
Take him, the creature’s voice exploded in his head.
It was time. He cocked the hammer back and raised it to the windshield. At this distance, the zombie’s face filled the scope and Nick swore that he saw a flicker of recognition in the thing’s eyes as he squeezed of a round. Years of hunting for food with the pistol had taught him how to bring the weapon up and fire accurately at his target, every time. Today was no different.
The blast from the hand cannon cracked all of the windows of his truck and made his ears explode in pain. But he didn’t flinch or drop his view from the creature as the round shattered the windshield and went through the forehead of the zombie. The creature flew backward and he knew that if a bullet to the brain killed those things like the internet said that it did, then it was gone. He’d hit it slightly off-center above one of its eyes, that was a kill shot every time.
He used a finger to dig into his ear in an effort to clear out the ringing before re-cocking the pistol. The zombies all around him seemed to be going crazy. They beat senselessly on the sides of the truck, no longer focused on getting him specifically; instead they seemed to lash out at everything in their grasp. He didn’t know how long that would last, but the fact that they were disoriented and not trying to kill him was the opportunity that he needed. He wasn’t going to overlook the Lord’s gift.
The sliding glass in the back window was just barely wide enough for Nick to fit through, but he made it into the bed of the pickup and leapt from the back onto the ground. He didn’t bother to look as he sprinted the final eighth of a mile to Jim’s farmhouse. He fumbled with the woodpile on the back porch until he found the correct piece of firewood that had a house key taped to the bottom.
The key fit perfectly into the lock and he burst into the house. He slid the deadbolt home and leaned heavily against the door as the creatures began to pound on the opposite side. With a sigh of relief, he eased the hammer down on his pistol and pulled the old flip phone from his pocket. He didn’t think anyone knew that these things were this far south yet. The news had said they were up near Richmond, so it was time to change that.
He had a friend from high school who was in the Virginia National Guard. He’d know who to tell in order to pass the message along. He scrolled through the address book on his phone until he found Rich’s number.
Nick finally got through to his friend, who assured him that the Army would intercept the creatures in southern Virginia now that they knew where they’d disappeared to. Rich’s confidence bolstered his own once he was complete with the conversation and he risked a quick peek out the window.
There were at least fifty zombies in the area surrounding his hideout, most of them seemed to be stumbling around or waiting, while there were several still pounding relentlessly on the truck. That made him sure that the ones who hadn’t seen him were just waiting for something to emerge or to go back to the main group so he reached out slowly and twisted the rod to close the blinds. If they hunted by sight, he didn’t want them to see him moving in the house.
Several hours later, the beating at the front door abruptly ceased and he could hear the cattle in the barn going crazy. He wondered what was going on, so he climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. He felt a little guilty invading Jim and Connie’s bedroom, but he reasoned that it was okay since he was just going to look out the window and not touch any of their private things.
The cows had come back to the barn expecting their evening feeding and were attacked by the zombies instead. As before, it looked like the barbed wire fence around the barnyard had proven to be little protection against the press of the zombies and even though several were hopelessly entangled in the wire, the rest were attempting to attack the animals.
Jim’s herd proved to be the creature’s undoing as the cattle moved in a group from one end of the field to the next and Nick watched in fascination. Two of the older cows had been set upon by the group near the fence and torn apart, but the rest of the herd ran away. The zombies moved in a ragged group toward the cattle who cowered against the fence until the danger was too great and then they surged forward into the zombies to go to another section of the field.
Nick watched the stampeding cattle decimate the zombies again and again until there were only three or four of them upright. Even without the fence near the barn, the cows never left the field and the small group of zombies continued to chase them while the original creatures that had been trampled clawed at the dirt with broken limbs and crawled pathetically after the cattle.
After it became apparent that the zombies wouldn’t stop pursuing the cattle and that the herd wouldn’t leave the field, Nick sighed and tramped back down the stairs to the back porch. A quick peek out of the side windows told him that there weren’t any of the creatures close by so he unlocked the door and eased out onto the porch.
He picked up Jim’s axe and walked slowly toward the field. The zombies would chase those animals until the end of time if he didn’t put a stop to it and he told Jim that he’d take care of the herd while he and his family were gone. Besides, Nick couldn’t stand animal cruelty and he was going to make those things pay for spooking the cattle so badly.
THIRTEEN
01 November, 1048 hrs local
The Castle, Smithsonian Institution Building
Washington, Dead City
The Master contemplated what this meant. It felt the Chosen in the south die; that only left two of the original Chosen to continue the fight against the humans. The Followers would continue the attack, but without the Chosen to direct them it would be reckless and not massed. That type of all-out attack would leave them vulnerable to defeat—one small group at a time.
The creature wondered what had happened to the Chosen. How had it died? The plan called for the Chosen to move its Followers from city to city in secret, reappearing at new locations as a surprise to destroy the population and wreak havoc among the defenders. It was not to expose itself to danger. It was the Master’s own plan, which was different than the slow, steady march that the Leader in the north used after it had achieved the first surprise attack.
The Master didn’t know how far the second attack had advanced in the south. The last time it had communicated with the Chosen, they were still very close to the home city. The plan called for a two-pronged attack on the humans, not one major attack in the north and a million insect bites in the south. The Followers would quickly lose their cohesion and begin to separate, attacking whatever they happened across.
