Okay guys. I haven’t written anything since high school. And I’m mid 30s. I was bored at work one day and discussed how we were supposed to get zombies and not hypochondriac liberals.
Well one joke led to another and I started a small post apocalyptic chapter of what happens when the vaccination goes bad. This is purely fiction. Nothing should be taken seriously here. At all. Half of it was done while drunk.
I know it has a ton of punctuation errors, sentence structure mishaps, and a few spelling errors. Concussions will do that.
Enjoy.
Bernie sat on his porch and watched the sun go down. He looked towards the lake that bordered his property. His son was at the lake, with his daughter. The distance was far, but he could make out the scene. His 15 year old son James was fishing with his brother Cameron. Cameron just turned 7 and had an interest in the trout that swam in the lake. James had his rifle slung over his shoulder and was watching Cameron reel in a nice brown trout. Not a noise was heard.
Bernie reflected on the past, had the years gone by that quick? He had been a doctor at an inner city hospital, this was before the pandemic, before the vax, and before the mandate. He was a trauma surgeon and a reservist in the army. He was a few years away from retiring from the army and focusing on his newborn son Cameron. He missed the times before the pandemic. He missed the simple pleasures in life, he missed his wife.
The alarm bell sounded and sprung him out of his reflection. He looked towards his boys and they were already running towards the house. The other members of the compound sprang to life, windows closed, doors slammed shut, safeties clicked off left and right.
“FAUCIES SPOTTED! 1/4 mile north on Sunbelt Dr! Shouted the voice over the radio.
Bernie made his way to his post, he was in the second story window facing Sunbelt.
His sons joined him, Cameron was sent to the closet in the room that Bernie was in. James was in the room next door. They waited for the horde to arrive. The entire compound had 15 shooters, all at their posts.
The horde slowly shuffled toward the house. A group of about 8 had wandered down this country road and was looking for blood. They drank blood for nutrition. They craved it worse than any addict ever craved anything before. They roamed the country, looking for their next victim.
The horde saw the compound and turned to walk down the driveway. They passed a garbage can, unknown to them it was a marker for the defense team.
“On three, open up” crackled the radio in Bernie’s pocket.
“1”
“2”
“3”
A cacophony of gunfire erupted. The horde was cut down and flopped around for a bit on the ground.
“Permission to finish them off?” Bernie asked in his radio.
“Negative, ammo is expensive, let them die” responded the leader.
They sat and watched for ten minutes as the life drained out of the horde.
If you looked at them, you could see a bit about who they were. One man had a mechanics shirt on that said “Bert.” Bernie recognized him from before. He had worked at the quick lube place in Algonac, just a short drive from here.
“Report!” The man in the radio demanded.
Everyone stated that they were ok, no injuries. All personnel were accounted for.
“Alright, you know the drill, we wait for 30 and see if anyone decided to follow them. Our little fireworks display draws them in from a long way off.” Chuckled the man on the radio.
The group waited patiently, no other threats came.
“Ok guys. Joe and Will, put your tyveks on and get the tractor. We have 8 bodies to dispose of. The old Wilson house has a hole in the north side, Put them in there. Bernie and James, you guys are security for them. Rearm and grab the side by side.”
The two men donned their PPE and moved the bodies into the front end loader of the Kubota tractor. They took 3 at a time. The father and son drove ahead in a Polaris ranger. They looked at every window they passed and every shadow they drove by, the tractor followed closely behind. A half mile away they pulled into the driveway and headed up towards the house.
The work group arrived at an older mobile home. They drove around to the north side and saw a gaping hole in the side of it. They put the bucket in the house and dumped the bodies.
“Always cut the hole on the north side, we catch a good wind and the sun stays off em. We will torch the house after a good rain get the yard wet. “ explained Joe. He was a lanky tall man with a short beard.
“Makes sense” said Will. Will had just joined the group last month.
“Why do we have to wear these suits? It’s hot as hell in these things?” He asked.
“Just because the blood they carry won’t cause you to transform now, doesn’t mean it won’t happen later. It took 5 years from the initial vaccination for people to go mad. And that’s just the daywalkers like these, the pour souls that got boosters ended up worse. You don’t want problems down the road. One little spike protein gets in your blood and then BAAMMMM!!!! You a Fauci.” Replied Joe.
“Whatever” Will said, rolling his eyes.
The group made this run 5 times and then returned home. They sprayed the front yard down and then showered.
As the night came, the men gathered and ate meals. A few dreamt of the years past and the lives they once lived. A few looked to tomorrow and wondered what was going to happen next.
In the distance they heard a prolonged gunfight.
To be continued???