absolutely AWESOME story! Keep up the great work!

I would but I don't think I will have it back from the proof reader in time to post it before I leave. Sunday will be here soon enough I think. which reminds me I need to get writing on 14!

The Slow Burn Into Darkness. FTMFW

excellant update!! keep the coming.

Started reading this morning have gotten caught up
Nice work.


Most please.

Waiting

Love the story so far. Excellent

It's Friday damnitt
ETA: I see your schedule says we have to wait to the 21st . . . argh

21st ??? FFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

I also thought we'd get an update today, damn.

Well???????

Impatiently waiting...

Just got back in town! Thanks for being patient! Will have chapter 13 up shortly!

Woohoo

Chapter Thirteen: Sweat and Blood
November 1, 2011
Day 36

A chilly breeze flowed in from the North, soft and slow but with the patient force of nature that gradually pushed and pulled along with it a faint stench of something much more dreadful and feared than a late fall shower. All night the guard tower personnel had reported a dull glow emanating from a huge cloud far to the north.
The rising sun slowly brightened the quiet landscape. An occasional crack of rifle fire interrupted the tranquility, eventually giving way to the rustling of real people getting prepared to tackle another day in the new ‘fight or be killed’ world that has gripped the country and most likely the entire planet.
As the people emerged from their shelters and camping trailers, the overall mood was quite somber and subdued. For word had spread that two of the prison compounds founders were killed in yesterday’s rescue assault while saving several rape victims and Mattie.

However time marches on; a funeral will be prepared for Chris this very day. A ceremony will not be performed for Mike; for his body has not been recovered. The body was most likely totally consumed in the blaze that sent smoke and sparks spiraling into the air and had been visible from the Prison.  Dan refused to admit that Mike was dead until he sees the charred bones for himself. Stephen was sure that Mike was deceased, but seeing the raw pain in Dan’s eyes made him agree to go back soon as it was possible to look for his remains. For the most part the majority of the refugee population didn’t know the two men personally; however they respected the way they had treated everyone in the camp as equals and had selflessly risked their lives for others. They had personally formed tight bonds with several men during all the supply raids and Zombie fighting, and all had benefited from tactics and knowledge that they always gladly shared with anyone who asked.
 
But those closest to them; Stephen and Dan were affected the most. They had personally known, worked, and loved each other as family for several years. Dan was given a large amount of room to grieve. He had taken to working out his grief with his favorite relative; Jack Daniels.
Stephen was also beside himself. He spent the entire night standing guard over Mattie after she had been cleared by the compound’s medic. She had been moved to the huge bus RV Mike called home and where Mattie often stayed, and placed into the large bed inside. No one was to bother her while she healed physically and mentally from her ordeal. She has not yet regained consciousness and has no idea that Chris was dead and Mike was missing and presumed dead.

Inside the bus the shades had been pulled down so as not to allow light in to awaken Mattie before she was ready. Wrapped securely within the huge soft comforter blankets, she slept the sleep of the exhausted. As Stephen watched over her, he attempted to keep awake by going over mentally what they could have done differently that might have kept those two fools alive. Many times he broke down and tears filled his eyes. He refused to allow himself weep like a little girl who lost his dolly though, and began to inventory Mike’s remaining arsenal if for no other reason than to keep his mind off the fact that his dear friends were not coming back.
As the time wore on however, the inevitable weariness of being awake for more than twenty four hours straight and battling for his life for most of them, weighed heavily on his eyes. Finally unable to physically and mentally last much longer, Stephen locked the outer door of the RV and after locating a spare blanket, laid down upon the couch and within seconds was snoring soundly.

********

Scrambling to his feet, Lewis looked around for what snapped him out of a fitful sleep. Standing frozen in fear, he heard the damned moaning and groans of more Zombies closing in on his position yet again!
Shaking with exhaustion Lewis was too tired to curse his luck.
After he had killed that asshole cop and escaped the blazing inferno that had been his dear departed brother’s church; Lewis fled into the darkness outside the vehicle barrier that surrounded his dead brothers former stronghold . Now several hours later and after attempting to hole up in many different buildings, Lewis once again was required to evade the unnatural, rotten flesh smelling creatures, that were relentless in their pursuit of him.

Lewis was near panic as the first of the Zombies began clawing at the cheap front door of the abandoned home he was in. Ripping open the rear door, he ran down the back steps as more spilled around the backside of the home from both sides. Jumping the rear backyard fence, which he knew would slow them down until the sheer weight of dozens of Zombies caved it in, he ran down the alley. Lewis hoped by crossing several city blocks he would lose them. But it seemed that no matter how far he went or how many times he tried doubling back, they eventually found him.

He knew the first thing he needed was a solid firm structure to barricade him in. Then he needed a weapon of sorts and food and water. Without any of those he was doomed, for the Zombies tirelessly pursued him. All the while he was running on fumes, and desperately needed rest.
Bursting out of yet another front yard, Lewis frantically scanned up and down the street looking for familiar landmarks. The neighborhood appeared to be pre-dominantly Latino due to the names on mailboxes as he ran down the streets. Finally finding a sound home built of brick with windows set high off the ground; Lewis wearily stumbled through the solid iron wrought fence gate and secured it behind him. As luck would have it (finally) the front door was unlocked and appeared undisturbed from the infected. Whoever the former owners were they had left in a hurry as most of their personal belongings were still in place. Family pictures lay haphazardly on the floor showing happier times with the smiling faces of three proud generations.

Swiftly Lewis checked the home for the foul smelling undead. Finding it clear, he next checked the windows for signs of pursuit from the previous group of Zombies. Seeing that for now at least the coast was clear, Lewis raided the pantry and cupboards for any food that might have been left behind. After the third bare cupboard, Lewis hit the jackpot. The former owner must have overlooked this section for it was packed with canned goods and bags of dried beans and rice. Locating a can of Spam, Lewis eagerly sat at the kitchen table and devoured the canned meat like it was a juicy steak from a five star Chicago steak house. With his hunger taken care of for the time being, Lewis began barricading the front and rear doors and the windows, using a hammer and nails to pound broken shelves and boards over the openings. He left the front door to be secured with furniture, to allow for entry and exit. With a full belly and Lewis unaccustomed to manual labor, he was rapidly getting more and more tired. Finally Lewis plopped himself onto the large sofa he used to help secure the front door and was fast asleep within seconds…

********

A loud crash dragged Mattie from a dreamless slumber. Not knowing where she was, she frantically looked around side to side. Slow to gather her wits, she backpedaled herself clear off the soft mattress onto the floor. Scrambling out from the claustrophobic grasp of the blankets she put her back to the small wardrobe closet gasping for breath.
Gradually recognition set in, no longer was she imprisoned by the deranged sexual predator sicko Kettle, no longer was she tied to a chair with her legs spread to be used as his personal sex toy; but was safely ensconced within Mike’s luxury RV bus.
‘It is not a dream…they did come for me!’ she thought dreamily.

Breathing a sigh of relief and getting her hammering pulse under control, Mattie stood up. Looking down at herself, she noticed that she was still wearing the catholic school girl get up that Kettle forced her to wear.
Quickly she tore at the clothing as if they were on fire. Soon she stood there panting as she stared at the outfit that she threw onto the bed with disgust. However standing in a hormone driven male’s bedroom stark naked would not be a good thing as sex was the last thing on her mind.
He might get the wrong idea. Well more like the right idea, just the time was wrong…
Opening Mike’s wardrobe, she began picking through his slim selection of clothes. Shaking her head at the selection she had to choose from, she finally decided upon a large (everything he had was large on her) ‘Lamb of God’ concert t-shirt and a blue pair of basketball shorts with a set of workout pants to go over them. Hoping that he didn’t care she wore them; she then made her way (naked) to his bathroom and prepared for a shower.
Once again shaking her head at the lack of bathing options, but didn’t expect to find feminine shampoos or soaps; just ‘Head and Shoulders’ and ‘Zest’. Frowning at his lack of civilized bathing selection she got the shower running and was pleasantly surprised when hot water came from the tap. She scrubbed her skin almost feverishly, trying to physically wash the mental touch of Kettle from her person, while occasionally tearing up and sobbing. Even with Mike’s poor taste in shampoo, she soaped her long black tresses into suds filled lather and then rinsed it clean. Finally unable to take the now cold water spraying her, she turned off the water and climbed out. Taking a large towel she dried herself off and stared at her now cleansed body in the bathroom mirror. The difference a shower made was wondrous, what before was a tired, worn looking woman now appeared vibrant and alert.
‘Well I slept in his bed, stole his clothes and used all his hot water; might as well finish.’ She thought as she brushed her teeth with his toothbrush and shaved her legs with his razor.
“I’ll make it up to him.” She said aloud with a mischievous smile.

Now that she felt renewed she realized she was famished. Throwing on her commandeered clothes, she exited the bathroom to see if Mike was about and to locate some food he might have secreted away somewhere.
Outside the small bathroom she heard the sound of someone snoring like a saw cutting wood.
Mattie giggled to herself quietly as she tip-toed over to see who was sleeping on the couch in the dimly lit cabin. Upon closer inspection she saw that it was Stephen, who was sleeping. On the hardwood floor next to the couch was a 1911 pistol which Stephen must have held and fell to the floor. 'That must have been what woke me up.' She thought. ‘The man even sleeps with his guns.’  
Shaking her head slightly in wonder she quietly picked up the handgun and placed it on the nearby end table.
She returned and leaning over, she tucked in the blanket covering him and then smoothed his hair back then kissed him gently on the forehead.
Standing upright she knew that Stephen was involved with her rescue, she just did not know how it came to be that one minute she was being molested by Kettle; and then next she is waking up in Mike’s RV.
“I am positive there is a good story to be told here. But I will wait until they are all together as to not hear four different versions.” She whispered aloud.

Turning around she began looking for something to snack on until Stephen woke up. There was no popcorn left from the other night and after  checking a few cupboards and drawers, she finally found a box of peanut butter protein bars. Ripping open the wrapper she took a large bite, and quickly her mouth scrunched up in distaste.
Looking at the protein bar with a disgusted look, she said out loud, “Yuck, he eats this crap?”
However, seeing there was nothing else to munch on, she valiantly managed to eat the entire thing. As she finished and threw away the wrapper, she closed the cabinet door hiding the trashcan a little too loudly. Mattie heard Stephen groan as he started to wake up.
Seeing that he was now sitting up ; she rushed over and wrapped him into a huge hug.
“Thank you for rescuing me from that horrible man Stephen!” she said.
Stephen said nothing.
“I cannot wait to see the rest of the gang and give each of them a hug as well.” Mattie continued.
At the mention of the others, Stephen momentarily physically froze up.
Mattie felt him do so and leaned back to look into his face. “What is it Stephen? What is wrong?”
Stephen avoided looking into her concerned face.
Clearing his throat and attempting to talk a few times unsuccessfully, Stephen finally managed to blurt out the bad news.
“It’s about the others; Chris and Mike…”
The look on Stephen’s face made Mattie's blood run cold.
“They didn’t make it Mattie,” Stephen whispered, “They are dead, I am so sorry…”

********

Basking in the noon day sun, I did not realize that taking a nap in a grassy meadow could be so refreshing. The warm sunlight shining down wasn’t too hot, just right for sleeping. The tall grass waving in the wind made for a soft bed to lie upon. What a perfect summer day!
Poke
Still somewhat half asleep I ignore the irritating feeling and fall back into welcomed darkness…
Poke
What the fuck?
Poke
Cracking open one eye as I laid there with my hands laced behind my head I can see that there is the largest crow I ever have seen sitting on my chest…
Poke
Its beak smacks me in the forehead.
Poke
“Go away bird.” I said sleepily and shooed it away with my right hand. “Can’t you see I am napping?”
The crow flew up and as I shut my eyes again, it settles back onto my chest.
Poke
My head is starting to hurt from the repeated strikes…
Poke
Angry now, I try to hit it, and it lashes its beak into my right hand.
“Ouch, why are you poking me?” I say as I sucked on the injured hand.
The huge bird tilted its head and looked at me with one eye.
“You need to wake up.” It said.
My eyes widened in disbelief.
I laid there dumbfounded, ‘Did this bird just talk?’
Poke
“Stop that!” I yelled and tried to sit up.
The huge bird suddenly grew to enormous stature and its weight crushed me back down into the grass.
“You really must wake up now asshole.” It said in a roaring voice and as I struggled for breath, its huge dagger sized beak streaked for my eyes…

Groaning in pain, I turn my face away from the blinding sunlight that is shining through the door. As I do so, an object strikes me in the face. Cracking an eye open and looking up, I see it is a fucking Zombie pawing at my face with its fingers.
When I passed out I fell over against the door, the Zombie must have been able to jimmy the door open just enough to poke me in the fucking head with its hand. Now it had stopped long enough to lick at the small puddle of blood that leaked from the gash on my head to under the door then outside.
Weakly I paw at my shoulder holster and draw my 1911. Knowing that noise brings more of these damn things, I need a way to muffle the noise a little. Seeing the Zombie lapping at the coagulating pool of blood gives me an idea. I smear the barrel of the handgun in the blood for a few moments.
“Hey shit head!” I croaked.
The Zombie looked up at me and howled. That is when I ease the gun barrel out the door. The Zombie can't help but take the bait, and it immediately begins licking at the blood. As the lips of the Zombie wrap around the barrel like a cheap whore, I cram the barrel quickly and violently down its fucking throat and pull the trigger.

The percussion was greatly diminished as I blew the back of its skull off… Sighing with relief I shut the door again and forced myself into a sitting position. Groaning in pain from several spots I see that somehow I had wrapped an Israeli bandage from my bag around my thigh at some point during the night. Looking at the blood soaked bandage, I dread seeing what the wound will look like.

I really need to take care of my injuries before infection and then fever sets in. Unsnapping my ‘go-bag’, I drag it out and onto my lap and take a few seconds for the black spots to go away from my spinning vision. Gradually I regain the strength to open up the bag and set out my meager first aid supplies. A stitching needle and thread, some bandages and dressings, anti-biotic cream, Tylenol, and a few alcohol pads round out my med-kit. Not much, but better than nothing. Grimacing with pain I untie the dirty blood drenched rag around my right thigh. My machete strapped to my leg gets in the way however. I also see the Ontario spec plus survival machete has a large tear in the sheath. When I pull the blade out I can tell that whoever shot at me near the end of the battle with Kettle must have hit the thick metal blade with one of the rounds. The thick blade reflected the projectile and the fragmented round tore across the meat of my thigh instead of through it.
‘Looks like I cheated Murphy that time.’ I thought.
Taking off the bloodied rag I can see the fragments tore my thigh up pretty good. Luckily only one looked like it needs stitches as it was quite deep and gaping open. Sighing, because I really hate needles, I grimly and shakily manage to thread some onto the slim piece of metal. Next I cut off my pant leg above the injured part and psyche myself up for the pain.
Taking a fresh bottle of water from the ‘go-bag’ I try to clean the wound best I can, I know this isn’t the best to use but it is all I got. After drying it I wipe the needle down and my injury area with a few alcohol pads. Wincing I grab the two edges of the ragged thigh injury and jam the needle through the meat.
"Ouch.. That fucking hurt!" I mutter aloud.
Well I have to man up; mommy is not here to do it for me…
Pulling the thread through, I jab my leg again, and again…

After a long session of pretending I was fixing a torn shirt sleeve I cinch up the stitches tight, and after cutting off the excess I knot the remaining thread then look at my work. Christ, it looks like I just laced up my boot…Finishing up my leg by slapping a bunch of anti-biotic cream onto the wound I wrapped it all with a large bandage and dressing. I also threw back a handful of Tylenol with a mouthful of cool water. Putting my med-kit into the ‘go-bag’ I struggle to my feet and go about locating a mirror in this place. Judging by the looks of this place it used to be a small residential home, unused by regular tenants for quite some time. The housing bubble bursting did quite a number on this town. However plenty of homeless had shacked up here by the looks of things. Empty booze bottles and old food packages of all types littered the floor.

Finding the bathroom wasn’t hard; I just had to follow the stink. Homeless will flop in an empty home forever until someone boots them out, and if the water is turned off, well they just shit and piss into the toilet anyway. At least they haven't been here for awhile, the Zombie apocalypse and all. Trying not to vomit I wobble over to the stink and rip the medicine cabinet door off and limp into the kitchen area with the mirror to work on my head wound. Leaning the mirror into a spot I could work without holding it, I begin the task of cleaning the chunky blood off the wound.
Turns out it looked worse than it really was, the injury wasn’t that bad, and head wounds just bleed a lot. It is a good thing I shave my head, for I would have had to cut a large patch of hair off to access the injury. Not needing to worry about that I set into work like I did with the leg. After cleaning it I realized that it really didn’t need stitches, so I smeared it with the anti-biotic cream and slapped a bandage on the side of my head. Good thing too, my hands are shaking from blood loss and fatigue so bad I would most likely have stitched my shirt sleeve to my face…

Locating an abused looking chair, I drag it over to the mirror and sit my worn ass into it. Gingerly I lever my shirt over my head and slowly take off my Gatorback level IIA bulletproof vest. Dragging the vest in front I take a look. Just as I had thought; I had cheated Murphy several times last night. Whoever it was that ambushed me must have used a revolver; for from what I recall six shots had been fired. One hit me in the back, two struck the trauma plate in the front, one hit my knife/leg, the skimming headshot, and the last must have missed high as the recoil raised the muzzle.
Touching the sore spots that lined up with the bullet slugs it doesn’t feel like any ribs are broken, just very sore. I will add the soreness to my long list of boo-boos including also my left arm which is red and blistered with a burn.
“Fuck it…at least I made it and Kettle is dead!” I remind myself aloud.

Downing some more water I tear into an energy/protein bar, for I will need all the sustenance I can get to heal. I need rest and cannot even think of trying to get back today. I would be a tasty, if somewhat hard to chew treat, for any nearby Zombie. No, better to rest up today and try for the prison tomorrow. Settling in the most defensive spot I could find, I drew my Colt Commander 1911 and cleaned it, removing the blood and grime. With that completed I reloaded it and laid out the extra .45 magazines and ammo I had left, and quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber…

********

Stephen could only take so much crying and sobbing before it started to get on his nerves.
‘Boy does she have a lot of grief to bawl like that…’ he thought. ‘I miss them too but guys must handle it differently that women.’
“I got some things I need to check on, I will let you get some rest.” He said to Mattie. “I will check in on you later.”
Stephen bolted out of the RV as another wail came from the back bedroom.
The normal noises of day to day living was soothing as Stephen made his way past the clanking sounds of the make shift machine shop and other different jobs that they had found for people to do.
It kind of filled him with pride to see how well things have gone since their arrival. But the minute he started feeling good, he would see the things that Chris or Mike had a hand in doing and it would bring the sadness back in full force.

Deciding this was as good time as any to check the fire ravaged old church for Mike’s corpse; Stephen double timed to his own RV and prepared a light backpack for his trip. Figuring he wouldn’t want to drag others along as they would most likely slow him down, he just grabbed his Bushmaster AR-15, M9 pistol and a shit load of loaded magazines. Last he saw of the area it was heavily infested with Zombies. Jogging then to the main gate he gave Kleaner the little lie of wanting to check on the corpse burning detail to make sure they were doing their job. By the time Logan and Kleaner figured out that the corpse burning detail had returned an hour ago, Stephen was long gone.

Long before he saw the charred ruins of the old church, he saw the smoke and sparks that crashed upward whenever a piece of wood fell into the smoldering shell. With no fire department it had also consumed two nearby buildings and would probably smolder for days. The church butted up against the elevated train tracks at Ohio/ Scott Street. Standing there he could see down into the still smoldering structure. The entire roof was gone and one of the thick outer walls has tumbled down. After Stephen lowered himself off the train tracks, he made his way around the outside of the building towards the back where he last saw Mike run to. The rear door was missing, burned away most likely, and carefully entered the still very hot interior part of the building. Stephen slowly moved around the ruins moving pieces of wood with still glowing embers and large piles of ash, looking for remnants of his friend’s body. It wasn’t long before he found a corpse. He had no way of knowing who it was; all clothing and damn near all the flesh had been devoured by the intense heat of the fire. All that was left was charred bones complete with a skull. The only way to verify the body, what there was left of it anyway, was by DNA testing that was far beyond anyone’s means anymore.

But what Stephen found near the bones is what sealed it for him. Nearby were the burnt remains of what was a Mossberg shotgun. The same configuration that he helped Mike assemble, complete with the loose heat shield that Mike always bitched about. Tears brimming in his eyes fell onto the ash covered steel barrel as he picked it up and inspected it.
“Damn… It‘s Mikes.........” Stephen moaned.

********

“…They are gone…dead…” Mattie gasped softly as she lay upon the bed hugging a pillow.

Hers was a rude awakening, after the horrible ordeal with Kettle and passing out, she did not know of Chris and Mike dying in the attempt to save her and the others. She blamed herself in a large part, for if she had not foolishly followed Jonas into that building then she would not have been taken captive to Kettle’s minions inside. The little she had pieced together from Stephen’s accounts was that Jonas had been knocked out when she was taken. She was also knocked unconscious and then transported to Kettle’s church to where she had been sexually molested and somewhat violated until her rescue. Mattie had explained that she did not remember exactly how she had been attacked and had only a vague recollection of Jonas being assaulted as she passed out.  
“If only I had stayed with Mike and helped him with his Zombie trap, then none of this would have happened!” Mattie yelled aloud and punched the pillow she was holding.

After a time she fell into a fitful sleep of dreams of being a captive again and of times spent with Chris and Mike. It was not a restful sleep, she awoke some time later and then went in search of Stephen and Dan. The former she couldn’t find, the other was found after getting directions from several people in the southeastern guard tower. Making her way to the top she heard several gunshots followed by cursing like she has never heard before. Exiting the stairwell into the observation deck, she saw that Dan had been shooting Zombies, and judging by the large amount of shell casings quite a bit too.

He was drunk…very drunk. An empty Jack Daniel’s bottle rattled on the floor and stopped against several empty cans of beer as Dan dropped it and grabbed for another thirty round magazine. Slurring badly while swearing, Dan finally was able to lock and load his fresh magazine. Mattie noticed he seemed to be having a bit of trouble, more than just being intoxicated…
“What are you doing Dan?” she asked as he looked through the optic of his rifle.
“Leave me alone girl, I am not ready for talking yet.” He snarled back. “I got me some dead fuckers that need killing again…”
Dan’s AR-15 bucked in his grasp. He was not using the suppressor today.  
Mattie then noticed the large wrapping on his left arm where his hand would be.
“Dan...” Mattie started, “What happened to your hand?” she asked.
“The correct question would be ‘where is my hand’ and since you insist on flapping your jaws I might as well answer to get you to leave me be.”
Dan stood upright, a bit wobbly, and faced Mattie. He let the rifle hang from his one point sling and stuck out his stump for Mattie to look at.
“I cut my hand off after it got bit by a Zombie. Right now one of them is probably using it for a ‘Scooby snack’ or something.” He growled at her.
When the only reply was a horrified look, Dan continued to talk and looked out the tower windows towards Collin Street where more Zombies slowly made their way to them.
“Chris saved my ass that day too, saved it more times than I am worth since this nightmare started.” Dan said with grim determination.
“Excuse me a second.” He said and looked at her with a side glance. “Might want to cover your ears.”

Mattie’s hands flew to her ears as Dan sighted on a small group of Zombies and let the lead fly. It took Dan a full 30 round magazine to down the seven or eight Zombies in the group. Several rounds of 5.56 would tear through their torsos without effect before their heads would snap back and cause them to collapse to the ground. Shortly after, letting the rifle hang again, he calmly reached into his cargo pants side pocket and pulled out a Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and cracked it open and took a long pull from the can. Grabbing his lit cigar from where it rested on the window sill he popped it in his mouth and faced Mattie again.
“Now pretty lady I know you have been through a lot yourself, but nobody has come through this untouched.” Dan lectured. “So if you really want to help, I happen to have been left handed and can’t quite manage to take care of business right handed if you know what I mean.”
The look of outrage and embarrassment filled Mattie’s face; she then fled down the stairs, but not before calling him an asshole.
As her footsteps faded Dan took another pull from the beer can. Finishing it he crushed the empty can and tossed it into the corner and fished out another. Cracking the new beverage open Dan chuckled at his brilliant move to shut her up.
“Oh well it was worth a shot, I am right handed anyhow.” Dan said aloud. He then sat down to continue sniping and loaded a fresh magazine as several new Zombies that had gathered during his little rant.

Looking at the dimming sky, Dan realized he had better hurry to make the funeral proceeding that were made for Chris, he has to check in on the Ham radio for the other folks from up North who have holed up  as well.
Strangely more and more have not checked in the past few days and he didn’t like the way it is playing out. Something is happening to the North, something maybe coming this way it seems.
Most of those in attendance at Chris’ funeral in the prisons church didn’t personally know the man, but all respected him greatly. He was one of the original founders of the prison compound and every refugee here owed him that much respect, to show up.

Many women held their recently adopted little ones and whispered to them that a young man has died and that they should hope to be like him when they grew up. Many that trained with Chris had tears in their eyes for a brother has fallen. Many more of the single women were sad that a potential husband was gone, and from the looks of it he had more than one of them on the line.

Almost all were in attendance, with the exception of the perimeter guards. Stephen who had returned from the church, accompanied Amber who had her hands full caring for the baby that Chris and Dan had brought back. Mattie and Dan were teary eyed in the front row, with Dan present but reeking of alcohol.
All except one man.
That man stood in the back away from view of most, away from prying eyes that would see that his face was filled with hate and not grief. Standing in the deepening shadows, Jonas shook with anger. He recently heard that these men saved the group of dirty whores, including Mattie, from Father Kettle’s church. Then brutally killed the Saintly man Kettle as well!
‘How could a few men destroy an entire flock of God’s children?’ He thought. ‘How could it be God’s plan when a good man like Father Kettle is cut down by these heathens?’
After so much effort it took to capture Mattie, these barbarians save her and destroy all that he held dear within hours!
‘At least two of them died.’ Jonas thought. ‘And if I have anything to say about it, I will see them all dead before this is over!’
If any did see Jonas, they would think he was quietly sobbing in sadness instead of shaking with righteous rage before he slowly walked away.

Stephen gave a short version of the rescue and allowed anyone who wanted to say a few words do so and the service was soon over. The volunteer pall bearers picked up the closed casket and slowly lowered it into the pit that they had dug. After a few more spoke quietly to Stephen, Mattie, and Dan who stood by the casket; several men grabbed shovels and began filling the pit. Dan helped dig, not caring that his having only one hand hindered more than helped. He stayed there, shoveling until it was done and long after it was finished, the others had touched his shoulder in sympathy as they left. Dan finally came out of his daze, his hand hurting from gripping the shovel handle tightly with mental pain gripping his body.
Slowly he dropped the shovel and looked at the fresh dirt covering his friend, whispering “I will miss you brother.”
He then made his way slowly back to his camper which he had shared with his fallen friend.
Each of them looked for solace in their own way, Dan working on another 12 pack of beer, Stephen cleaning his rifle and reloading empty magazines while keeping Amber and the baby company. Mattie crying into her pillow softly while Stephens Beagle felt sorry for her and kept her company.
One by one they each eventually fell into a troubled, dreamless sleep. But the night passed and when they awoke they knew that they had to go on without their friends that fell, and continue to live their lives. When Stephen finally made it into the command center he was asked by Casper when they planned on returning to the warehouse with all the supplies and weapons that they found on his raid the other day.
“I don’t know Casper; we need to get a raid crew together along with the vehicles to pull this off right.”
“But before we do I need to go talk with Dan.” Stephen added. “I have some news for him.”
Carrying a long object wrapped in a cloth, he walked over to Dan’s camper. He knocked and entered without waiting. Inside Stephen’s nose wrinkled at the wave of booze and vomit stink that enveloped him.
“Good god, open some windows in here.” Stephen said.
Reaching over he yanked the t-shirt off one of the windows and opened it up allowing fresh air to enter. Doing the same to two more as he entered deeper into the trailer, he finally located Dan’s unconscious form covered in old vomit and surrounded with empty beer cans and spam meat containers…  
‘No wonder he puked; what a combo.’ He thought.

Kicking several empty cans out of his way, Stephen grabbed the front of Dan’s shirt, (being careful to avoid the vomit) and heaved him into a sitting position. Kneeing next to him, Stephen slapped Dan in the face several times.
“Dan! Wake up you salty fucker!” Stephen yelled.
After the shaking, yelling and slaps, he finally managed to get Dan to crack an eye open. Stephen grabbed a water bottle and upended it over Dan’s head. Dan shot to his feet, sputtering and slamming into the walls, thinking he was under attack or something.
“Good morning sunshine!” Stephen said without sympathy. “Glad you decided to join the living!”
Dan’s face scrunched up with obvious hangover pain, “Could you not shout please? Feeling a mite tender this morning if you can believe it.”
Dan ripped off his soiled shirt and threw it in the trashcan, and reached into his duffel bag and put on a t-shirt that read ‘No I am not happy to see you; that is my pistol.’
“You better have a good reason for waking my ass up Stephen.” He growled.
Stephen said nothing and tossed the cloth covered object to Dan.
Dan removed the cloth and saw the scorched, heat warped item it covered.
“That is what is left of Mike’s shotgun. I found it near the last place I saw him head to at the church. Close by was a set of human bones that were badly burnt. I can’t be positive they belong to Mike, but we can’t sit here and think he is alive at this point.”
Dan slowly sat down, “Who else knows this?” he asked.
“Just the two of us. Nobody even knows I went back to look” Stephen replied.
Dan nodded, “I think we need to keep this between us, Mattie still has hope Mike is still alive, and if she hears of this, it might push her over the edge.”
“Agreed, get rid of that shotgun barrel, and we will not bring this up again.”
Stephen said, then turned and left the trailer as he heard the cracking sound of another beer can opening behind him…

********

Where the hell did the clown midgets go that beat me with two by fours all night while I was asleep? I fucking hurt everywhere. Even my pride is sore. The slightest movement either sends a wave of pain and nausea or makes my joints pop like bubble wrap. Gathering the energy to get up, I manage to get myself somewhat upright, if leaning against the wall swearing up a storm counts. A brief bout of vertigo makes the rooms spin and after I tamp it down I hop over to the crappy chair I found yesterday and fall into the seat.
Damn I feel weak as a kitten. Reaching up I feel my forehead and can tell it is a bit warm.
Not having any other options I grab a handful of Tylenol and down it with the rest of my bottle of water. Tossing the empty down with the rest of the garbage on the floor, I then remember I only have one full bottle left.
Going to have to make it last. Luckily I am not too far from the prison camp, but with my current list of injuries and the unknown Zombies factors might make a short trip into a long journey.
I figure I might as well get my ass moving, I haven’t seen any rescue parties looking for me, of course I have been unconscious for the most part.
“Still nobody has looked all that hard for me. Not like I have been moving from place to place.” I muttered.
‘Ain’t that a bitch…?’ I thought to myself.
Gathering up my meager supplies and strapping my ‘go-bag’ to my waistline, I take a few minutes to regain my breath.
‘Shit!’ I realize. ‘I am going to need a crutch or walking stick.’
Stumbling around the dumpy house, I locate a closet rod that will work for a walking stick or staff to fight off Zombies if worse comes to worse…and in my case it usually does. It is about six feet long and an inch thick, made of oak I think.
Ready as I will ever be, I take a look outside and see that it is currently clear of the flesh biting bastards.
I crack open the door and see that the one I killed yesterday is still there, smelly as usual and cautiously step over it out onto the porch. Holding onto the porch support pillars I get ready to step down off the porch when I hear a low droning of an engine.
I have heard that before but not for several weeks.
Looking up I scan the sky and see a large engine prop military plane slowly flying over the city. It appears to be a C-130 but my knowledge of planes is about as good as my math skills, which sucks.
The large plane heads north toward the prison and disappears from view for the house blocks my vision from where I stand.
Oh well, I can’t do shit about it.
Limping and cursing I begin to make my way back to the safety of the tall prison walls.
Man I need a beer…

********

Casper goes over the checklist he made for himself. He made sure that he had enough vehicles and trailers this time to haul all the supplies from the survivalist residence. Much of the manpower going on this supply run were first timers, that wasn’t really a good thing but most are going to be moving items not fighting. Casper would be leading the raid with Stephen as second in command. Dan was staying behind stating he had some work that needed looking into on the Ham radio’s . Mattie was busying recovering from her ordeal and was making herself busy caring for the other women rescued from Kettle. All of whom had suffered worse than her.

The sun overhead was peeking through the scattered clouds. Checking his watch Casper saw that it was noon and time to get the show on the road. Signaling that he was ready to the gate guards he climbed into his truck and waited for the few trucks in front to begin moving. The lead vehicle had several thick pieces of metal welded onto its bumper for Zombie ramming purposes. Slowly the caravan wound its way southbound on Collins Street, then westbound onto Cass Street, where they were delayed for a short time with a small number of Zombies around Joliet Central High School. Something had drawn them to the area and they turned their attention to the convoy with a snarl. The crack of rifle fire soon cleared the problem and the group moved on before others could arrive. Continuing westbound through the downtown area, the pack of vehicles turned southbound onto Ottawa Street. The road had been cleared prior and it did not take long to drive the remaining distance. The cars had been pushed to the side and now were open to the elements. Several had become home to animals and the growing packs of wild dogs. Many pets had been left behind to fend for themselves. They had begun to travel in larger and larger packs. Stephen motions to the guy next to him and points at a group of seven or eight pit bulls that are scurrying away from the convoy. The Feral dogs have been getting more and more aggressive, and encounters with the survivors were becoming more common. Although Stephen was a dog lover and his Beagle Buddy had become somewhat of a mascot at the prison, he knew that the dogs would have to be dealt with soon. He was thankful that it appeared animals themselves were immune to the Zombie virus and tended to stay clear of them, able to sense the unnatural danger.    

Soon enough the train of vehicles stopped at the warehouse type residence that Casper had raided a few days ago. As he and the rest of the raid members disembarked from their trucks, many just stood around staring at the neighborhood. Being one of little military type training, Casper did not grasp the problem this posed. He was so excited about showing his fantastic discovery of supplies, that something as elementary as setting up perimeter guard escaped him.
“Come on folks; let’s get these trucks loaded a.s.a.p.” He yelled.
Seeing Stephen make his way to the front, he motioned for Stephen to follow him inside.
“All the loot I told you about is inside here boss, I can’t wait to see your face!” he said.
“Lead on brother!” Stephen replied.
The loud rumble of an airplane overhead made several of them stop in their tracks. Overhead and to the west a huge aircraft slowly flew northward across town.
“That is a C-130 Army airplane!” Stephen said excitedly, “I wonder what they are doing?” The ponderous aircraft flew north and then when it was nearly obstructed from view by buildings they saw it circle back then once again north until out of sight.
Casper stood next to Stephen, “What do you make of that Stephen?” He asked.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t think I would see another plane flying in my lifetime.” Stephen remarked. "I guess the military wants to see exactly how bad it has gotten?"
Casper shrugged, “Well we can’t worry about what we don’t know, so why don’t we go get us some goodies?”

Entering the dark building, Stephen looked around at the dozen or so pallets of supplies stacked here and there on the warehouse floor. They looked to contain camping and hiking gear from various manufacturers.
One small pallet contained a dozen Katadyn water filters. Another held enough medical supplies to out fit a small hospital. Several boxes also contained dozens of sets of woodland camouflage BDU’s, LBE’s and Alice packs.  
Stephen whistled slowly at the sight.
“Wow, you were not kidding.” He said looking around.
“I know; it is crazy isn’t it?” Casper replied. “You haven’t seen the good stuff yet.”
Walking at a brisk pace, Casper led the way into the dark structure with his Surefire flashlight lighting up the path among the crates and pallets of military surplus gear. Coming to the large sturdy steel door, Casper fished out the key to the paddle lock that he used to secure the door handles with a chain the first time he was here. Loud clanking of the lock mechanism slightly echoed within the building; and once unlocked, Casper pushed with effort the loud squeaking door open.

Standing in the doorway, Casper entered and moved to the side as Stephen followed and stopped in his tracks. As the beams of their flashlights illuminated the windowless room, Stephen’s jaw fell open and just stared at what was in front of him.
Posted on a large bulletin board was a detailed list of everything that was in here, as well as the companies or even countries where the items were purchased or mailed off from. Next to the list Stephen found a phone tree of apparent group members that most likely helped buy a lot of this, for it was way too much for one person to accumulate alone. It appeared that the residence/warehouse had served as a depot for an extensive survival group who had supplies pre-positioned. From looking at the list of names and addresses, Stephen could see that the ten or so people involved had been fairly spread out and maybe that's why they had been unable to make it to their depot when the SHTF. Stephen wished that they had, as they would have made a powerful ally. He scanned the inventory list, and several things made a low whistle escape him as he read it.
“Out fucking standing!” Stephen remarked as he read.
Every member of the mysterious group had purchased several Polish Tantal's imported for CIA. There were at least 25 rifles still in the boxes, along with stacks of wooden crates containing 1080 round sealed tins of  Russian 5.45x39 53grain FMJ ammunition. There was at least 3 crates per rifle. Several boxes, which apparently had been delivered by Casper himself, contained hundreds of  East German Bakelite 30 round magazines. This room also contained several dozen more cases of military MRE's.
“These guys were loaded for bear!” Stephen continued. “This will definitely come in handy. I wonder if these guys just threw their money together, bought a lot of stuff thinking they would be ready for anything, and didn't actually plan or train for it very much?”

The various other gear did make it evident to Stephen that the group felt something was coming and had propositioned extra supplies and weapons for themselves and refugees they might want to take in. Similar in fact to what was going on at the prison right now. Stephen scanned through the remaining specialty items on the list.  One dozen Glock 19 pistols with 20,000 rounds of WWB ball ammunition. It appeared that a group member from Missouri had purchased and stored several Surefire FA556AR suppressors for AR-15 rifles that Stephen guessed the men were too bring with them. They were easily found on a shelf in the corner, next to several Ka-Bar knifes.
“Looks like I won’t need to borrow Dan’s anymore!” Stephen told Casper as he pulled a multi-tool from his bag and began to remove his bird cage flash hider. “You did good here Casper, Looks like you gave us all a fighting chance. Let’s put this shit to work!”

********

I am beginning to think that I didn’t cheat Murphy’s Law after all by surviving the gunshots and fire. I think that cruel fucker intended for me to be injured and hurt like hell on purpose. Even though the weather is clear skies and cool breeze, I am sweating like a whore in church right now.
As if Murphy planned it personally for my enjoyment, my nice easy walk back home to the prison was derailed when a group of seven Zombies stumbled out of the tree line and right at me almost immediately from leaving the house I holed up at.

Altering my course to the east I took Ohio Street to State Street and turned north. The only luck I had was my current limping speed was slightly just faster than the shambling pace of the Zombies just behind me. The bad part was they don’t get tired or have to drink or piss either for that matter.
The tapping of my makeshift walking stick and the dragging of my right foot is not nearly as loud as my ragged breath. Damn, I just left about twenty minutes ago and I am already winded…from walking! Well at least the growing mob of undead behind me is motivation to keep going. Taking a quick glance over my left shoulder I see the mob has increased to about twenty five. Unfortunately for me, some are somewhat quicker than others and I have had to shoot several of them when they get too close.
Grabbing the water bottle in my ‘go-bag’ pouch, I hurriedly gulp down a few mouthfuls of water, and seeing I had a bit of a lead, I quickly pull out my Copenhagen tobacco and take my last dip.
The look of horror on my face was probably obvious to even the Zombies as I realized I was now out of chew!
Knowing I had cases left in my RV bus waiting almost had me damn near in a jog to get back. Scores of undead craving and howling for my flesh and blood behind me gets me to a slow limp pace, but having no Copenhagen has me almost running in fear…my priorities are fucked up.

Up ahead I see that Murphy hasn’t forgotten his favorite play thing as another mob of Zombies cut me off on the road I am on. Cursing my luck, I peel off onto a side road and continue hobbling east towards Collins Street. All the while my stick is tap, tap, tapping away as I flee the hungry fuckers behind me that number closer to fifty now. Grimacing in considerable pain I push on each step one closer to home…

********

Lewis was almost happy. He has spent the last few days in this brick home and not one time was his sleep interrupted by those damned Zombies!
…and sleep he did in huge chunks, waking only to eat whatever food was to be had and gulp down Gatorade and juice boxes that he found in the basement.

Lying on the lumpy couch that barricaded the front door, Lewis went over the loss of his brother and the revenge he took on that big skin head bastard Mike.
A cruel smile that would have made Kettle proud crept across his face.
‘If only I had the time to hurt him more before he died,’ he thought, ‘but that damn fire almost did me in as well.’
“Now all I need to do is take out the rest of the glory hungry assholes, and their crappy safe zone will crumble like they did to mine!” he said aloud.
Standing up, Lewis began pacing back and forth in the living room plotting how to best bring this about.
He always did his best work when he paced and thought of the answer.
Suddenly he stopped in his tracks…
Jonas was still inside the prison!
If I can get word to him that he has an ally in me, then I can use him to further my plans.
‘Oh this is perfect,’ he thought, ‘I can use that deranged killer to do all my dirty work and then make sure he gets caught in the act while I watch from afar!’
“Who ever said politics wouldn’t last past the fall of government?” he giggled madly…
While standing there smiling over the many ideas and plots unfolding in his head, an odd repetitive noise slowly made itself aware to him.
Pausing with his head cocked to the side, he listened hard.
‘There it is again.’ He thought.

Moving from window to window, Lewis scanned outside for the weird sound. It was the loudest from the front of the house, and when Lewis looked out the window there, he froze in unbelieving shock.
Tap, tap, tap, tap…
A large, blood covered man with a shaved head was limping past the front of the house he was in, using a large stick for balance.
Tap, tap, tap…
“No fucking way…” Lewis whispered.
Face white with rage he began to scream, “I fucking killed you!”
Losing all control he began clawing at the front door forgetting the couch that was barricading it.
“I fucking killed you!”
With a great adrenaline charge surge he shoved the couch to the side.
“I fucking killed you!”
Screaming through the window at the retreating figure, Lewis was so focused on Mike that he did not see the huge horde of Zombies that followed in his wake.
No! You will not escape me again! You are dead!” he screamed
Grasping the door handle, Lewis jerked it open screaming “You are dead! I killed you!” and ran out onto the porch down to the street.
Lewis abruptly slid to a halt…as scores of undead turned their malevolent gazes on Lewis’ pale face and howled as one for his pulsing blood…
“I…killed…oh shit!”
Lewis turned quickly as a large chunk of the mob split off and gave chase like crazy fans chasing a celebrity.
Scrambling back into the house, he almost got the door shut…almost.

Falling back from the combined weight of several animated corpses, Lewis back crawled from the quickly filling doorway and got to his feet, running for the back door. Lewis didn’t know it, but the sheer weight of the number of zombies all trying to get at Lewis, created a bottle neck traffic jam of sorts in the doorway. By the time the clawing and biting mass freed itself, Lewis had made his escape outside and into the neighborhood beyond. Inside the home several Zombies shuffled from room to room endlessly, searching for the meal that was right in their grasp.
Outside, several backyards away, Lewis seethed with rage and frustration.
‘He fucking did it again!’ He thought angrily.
‘Asshole just walks past and destroys everything in his wake! This is the third time he has done this, and every time I have tried to kill him it fails!’ he thought as he clambers over another fence, putting as many obstacles between him and the Zombies that doubtlessly are in pursuit.
“What could I possibly have done to be cursed like this?” he said looking up at the sky for an answer.
“Well I guess I will need to expedite the plan to get Jonas on board and make these bastards pay, and this time I will stare into their eyes and watch the life fade before I leave.” He said to himself.
Knowing that he needs to get near the prison to make contact, Lewis took a parallel route to Mike’s, and since he is not wounded, quickly passed Mike’s location.
Even though he isn’t wounded Lewis has never been much of a physical type individual. Gasping for breath after the third block, he stopped to check on the Zombies that had given chase.
In the distance Lewis could see the large group following him had turned and now are flowing away from him, and judging from their position, most likely heading back at the original mob chasing the big bald fucker.
“Good, hope they bite a chunk out of his ass.” He said to himself.
Turning back to the north, Lewis quickly made his approach to the prison, out of sight but continuously getting nearer to it.
As the huge stone structure appeared in the distance, Lewis found a spot to look and decide his next move.
‘I need to make contact and stay out of sight, and also stay clear of Zombies.’ He thought.
Seeing a large stand of trees near the prison, and a large pile of burning objects with a truck near it, Lewis decided to get a closer look by moving to the trees.
After several minutes, Lewis finally made his approached without being seen from the prison.
As the burning pile came into view Lewis observed that the pile was dozens of Zombie corpses that someone has piled up high and lit on fire. The fire was kept burning from another huge pile of scrap lumber.
Hmmm… if he could get word to Jonas and have him get on the burning detail, they could talk about what they need to do to bring ruin down on the compound.
From what he could remember of how the men who captured Mattie kept in contact with Jonas, they had a camp of sorts that previously was occupied by homeless bums before the virus outbreak. It didn’t take long for him to locate the spot, now to work on the message.

Finding a container to hold the message was easy, for the area was frequented a lot by the homeless judging by the dozens of empty forty ounce bottles of ‘King Cobra’ beer. Using a charred stick to write with, Lewis scratched out his order for Jonas to get on the burning detail. Putting the message inside the bottle, and replacing the lid, Lewis quickly found the drop location for message exchange and placed the bottle in its place.
Now that the bait has been set, Lewis just had to survive the monstrous Zombies until he can deliver the pain they caused him…

********

“Holy…shit…I…am…gassed.” I gasp to myself.
Looking up through the continuous shower of sweat raining off my head, I can see the prison slowly get closer.
And guessing by the sounds of undead pursuit behind me; they are too.
Minutes go by thinking of nothing more than one foot in front of the other. The pain and exhaustion is making me daydream and hallucinate slightly. I swear I heard someone screaming at me that I was dead a while back. I almost was too because I stumbled and damn near fell when I turned my head to look.
Got to focus, take the pain, and need to get the anger burning.
Stumbling to the right to make my way around a stalled vehicle, I am brought out of my mental mantra by the shattering of glass next to me.
Not slowing I turn and look to my left. In the middle of the spider webbed windshield was a nice big bullet hole.
“What the hell?” I begin to ask when the answer came a second later in the form of a rifle retort echoing off nearby buildings.

********

Logan looked up from his high powered scope and glanced at Kleaner who stood next to him.
“Shit, I think I missed.” He said.
“What? You make me sick; a kid could make that shot.”
Logan stands up and sets the rifle down. “Are you nuts? That lead Zombie is damn near seven hundred yards away!”
“Move over kid, let me show you how it is done.” Kleaner ordered.
After Logan moved aside; Kleaner bends over and picked up the high powered .308 and lines up the target after making a few adjustments with the scope.
Steadying his aim, Kleaner’s body suddenly shakes from the rifles recoil…

********

Step with left foot, place staff, drag right foot.
Step with left foot, place staff, drag right foot.
That is my entire world of focus right now.
Oh and I didn’t forget about the long list of injuries, the pain, the burning thirst and gnawing hunger.
And least of all the now damn near one hundred Zombies slowly gaining ground on me.
A loud buzzing insect goes right past my head and before I can swat at the thing I hear a meaty splat right behind me.
Glancing behind me I am quick enough to see the Zombie that nearly caught me still on its way to the ground…missing its head from the bottom jaw up.
Again a second later the sound of a gunshot echoes from the prison.
“Wow good shot.” I mutter then begin my limping gait to home base.

********

“Wow good shot.” Logan said watching with a set of binoculars, “But you missed the lead Zombie with the stick.”
‘I wasn’t aiming for that one.” Kleaner lied.
“Bullshit, you were too. You knew what one I was aiming for. Why would you pick a different one?” Logan argued.
“Do I hear a challenge?” Kleaner asked.
“Hell yes, first to kill stick Zombie doesn’t pull midnight guard duty.”
“Deal…” Kleaner said, shaking hands on it.
Logan grabbed the rifle back and steadied himself.
“Now don’t you move you ugly bald fucker.” Logan said while looking through the scope that lined up on the lead Zombie’s blood soaked head.

********

Great, now my head wound has opened up again and precious blood is running down my face and onto the front of my shirt. Gasping for air like fish out of water I take a breather, for just a second, by leaning on a ‘speed limit’ sign along the road way. Just when I begin to move I hear something slam into the metal sign above my head. Risking a quick glance up I see a nice round hole in it; followed by the all too familiar retort of gunfire.
Suddenly my asshole puckers real tight.
Some jerk-off is shooting at me!

********

“You bitch,” Logan roared, “You messed with my damn settings on the scope!”
Laughing at his buddy, Kleaner pushes Logan out of the way. “Too bad pussy, now it’s time for my reward.” He said as he looked through the optic. “Say… where did he go…?”
Kleaner could not see the object of their wager anywhere. Scanning left and right he saw plenty of other targets milling around with a large chunk pouring onto a side street. Maybe they found a meal nearby. But sadly Kleaner held his shot, after all a night free of observation tower duty was huge and wanted to get a good night’s rest. Settling in and getting serious now, he continued to look for the stick Zombie that was covered in blood.
A few minutes go by when the target came out of a different area, much closer than before.
“There you are you flesh eating bastard.” Kleaner said to himself as he squeezed the trigger slowly…

********

Getting off the wide open road that led to the prison, I run, I mean ‘limp’ down Francis Street and cut down the alley with my one hundred or so closest friends behind me screaming and howling for a little taste of Nordic meat. I am running on fumes, and even those are running out fast. I need to get something between me and the hoard dogging my steps. I cut through a back yard, swinging a little chain link fence gate shut behind me. It will only slow them down a bit but I will take it. To further hinder their pursuit, I draw my 1911 Colt and kill the front seven causing a little more of a barrier for them to navigate. Doing a quick magazine change, I realize I am down to my last full one. If I want more I will need to load some as I walk. Unfortunately I need both hands to do this, but I cannot walk unaided; I need to use the staff and place most of my weight onto it while I drag my injured right leg. So it is either waste time to load magazines or put some distance between me and the mob behind me.
I choose to do the latter.
Now as I peel around the front of a home, again in view of the prison I attempt to hurry along, aware now that some asshole is taking pot shots at me. Keeping an eye on the prison and not on what is in front of me was both bad and good as it turns out.
Bad: because as a police officer, you should always be aware of your surroundings for shit always goes wrong when least expected.
Good: because sometimes stupid shit will save your ass as well.
Now while my attention was on the prison and I tried to hurry in my one legged gimpy race to cover, I did not see the beat up looking skateboard that was in plain sight on the ground in my path.

As I set my staff on the ground and dragged my bad leg up, I stepped off with my good leg right onto the toy.
Naturally my entire body flipped straight up like a cartoon character and crashed down onto my back while the skateboard skims along the ground away from me.
As waves of pain assailed me I dimly heard the echoing and much louder now bark of the rifle.

********

“I got him!” Kleaner whooped. Pumping his fist in the air and gyrating his hips and chanting ‘take it bitch’.
Logan, refusing to admit defeat ignored Kleaner who was now yelling ‘whose yer daddy’, and kept monitoring with the binoculars where he last saw the stick Zombie fall back behind a hedge row after his buddy shot it.
Just as he was about to throw in the towel and call it, he sees the stick Zombie clamber back to its feet and begin it stumbling gait towards the prison.
“YES! You missed him!” Logan yelled.
“No fucking way I missed, you saw him go down!”
“Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.” Logan said and handed his binoculars to the unbelieving friend while he scooped up the rifle.
“Don’t worry I might swing by with a few of those fine ladies that Stephen and Dan brought back the other night to keep you company while you pull my watch.” Logan bragged taunting his friend.
“I got something for you to pull asshole.” Kleaner growled back and scanned again with the field glasses.
Logan calmly let out a long slow breath and steadied his aim. “Shit, looks like it ran back into the surrounding buildings, oh well it will be back, and when it does I want to finish this wager once and for all.”

********

‘This damn supply run is bullshit.’ Leroy Johnson thought to himself. “All this work for the betterment of the prison camp touchy feely stuff can go to hell.’
Leroy had never been the most over-achieving type person, and he would be the first to tell you. Mostly he sat around collecting a bullshit ‘disability’ check from the government that came twice a month which went to supporting his alcohol and gambling addictions. Since he still had lived with his parents at the old age of forty two, that gov’t check went a long ways without having to pay for rent or groceries and utilities.
Now all of that is shot to hell and he has to actually do something productive or the current leadership here will throw his ass out. What complete bullshit! These assholes have no compassion for the disabled. Of course his disability was a fake, he had found a ‘slip and fall’ lawyer who had won a law suit for him about a supposedly injured back, and was supposedly unable to work anymore from that point on. Of course he had burned through the huge Workman’s Comp check that he got within two weeks at the river boat casinos here in town.
What else was he going to use the money for? He already had his parents place to stay at for free.
Now he was reduced to carrying some survival nut job’s MRE cases and stacking them onto a truck.

A few of the others doing the manual labor were also of the same frame of mind as him and had been equally useless in society before it had all broken down. They agreed that it was all so unfair how things have turned out.
Standing by the truck after another trip outside, Leroy waiting until the others came out with an armload of goods.
“Hey guys,” Leroy whispered looking around, “Let’s go into a few of these nearby homes and look for some booze or drugs. I want to party and a lot of these homes were drug houses, we just got to find the right ones.”
“Hell yes,” one said, “I haven’t got high since this Zombie shit started, I sure could use a fix.”
The others all got that gleam in their eyes, each dreaming about what they each hoped to locate in some of the unsecured homes nearby.
Keeping an eye on the others while looking busy, they waited until nobody was paying attention and ran across the street to the rear of a large two story home.
Puffing from the quick sprint, Leroy waited to be sure nobody saw them leave and then forced open the rear door to the home.
“This is going to be fucking awesome!” he heard one say from behind.
They all ran into the home, none of them bothered to clear any rooms for Zombies before searching, and most of all; none had brought a single weapon with them…
“Jackpot!” one of the men yelled, holding up a large gallon sized Ziploc plastic baggie full of weed.
The following chorus of shouts of happiness was soon replaced with screams of pain.

Out of the rear of the residence, several black men wearing assorted gang colors spilled into the room where they all stood. Normally gang bangers made people feel uneasy to be around, but when those same gang members also were blood craving mindless flesh eaters, each sporting a large array of mortal wounds, it was enough to paralyze them with fear.
The ensuing battle was extremely one sided; the only one to make it out was the short lived ringleader Leroy; who used one of the men as a ‘meat shield’ to distract the one Zombie attacking him.
However Leroy also had three fingers bitten off as well as his right ear. Bleeding heavily he ran screaming right back to where his ‘bullshit’ raid was still in progress.
Stephen walked back out to his truck and looked over the inventory checklist on his clipboard he had brought with.
“I cannot believe what a goldmine this place was!” he said to Casper who was soaked in sweat from hauling the weapons and ammunition out, drinking heavily from his water bottle.
He was about to answer when a scream of pain and great fear erupted from across the street. All heads swung to look at the source, which was a man who was supposed to be loading supplies, running at them from across the street bleeding heavily. Close on his heels were several obvious Zombies in full pursuit of their meal.
“What the fuck was he doing over there?” Stephen yelled as he swung his AR-15 with its newly attached suppressor.
Stephen couldn’t even hear its retort over the other unsuppressed rifles that engaged the oncoming targets.
In the momentary confusion, nobody stopped the bleeding man Leroy until he was behind the other members of the raid.
After the Zombies were quickly destroyed, many didn’t even know a member of the raid had been injured.
When a few noticed Leroy huddled bent over near them, they approached to see what was wrong with him.
They quickly found out, when as soon as they touched his back, Leroy abruptly stood and latched his teeth onto the face of one of them, ripping most of the man’s nose and left cheek off.
The others recoiled in fear, which only helped Leroy attack and injure three more until Casper walked up and shot Leroy point blank in the head.
Silence hung heavy over the area, only broken by the screams of the newly injured.
Casper calmly opened the cylinder of his revolver and replaced the spent shells with fresh ones. Snapping it closed with a flick of his wrist, Casper turned and without remorse blasted each of the newly infected raid team members in the head with his side arm.
Casper was so fast dispatching the infected people that nobody near him could even react to stop him if they wanted to.
“This is why we have what we call a ‘perimeter’ people!” Casper screamed with rage. “When each of us refuses to do their job in times like this, people die! These men died because someone let this idiot out without stopping him, now several others paid with their lives from his stupidity and our laziness!”
“Everyone back to their vehicles and load up!” Stephen snarled while loading a fresh magazine. “We leave now!”
As the heavily laden convoy returned to their stronghold, the mood was subdued and mournful. A few of the newly deceased had families back at the prison and will need to be notified of their deaths and more funerals will be held soon.

Making their way back, the convoy turned onto Collins Street which from there was a straight shot back to home. Getting closer to the huge structure, Stephen driving the lead vehicle, began to come across corpses in the roadway that he knew were not there on the way to the raid location. These were fresh kills, and it wasn’t long before he saw the huge mob of grotesque undead clogging the road in front of him.
Pulling to a stop Stephen exited the truck and had the others behind him pull along both sides of his truck, forming a makeshift vehicle barrier.
When the rearmost Zombies discovered that many more delicious meals had moved in behind them, they howled for blood and scrambled to be the first to sink their rotten teeth into succulent flesh…

********

For the life of me I don’t know how I get myself into cluster fucks like this. I can’t walk unaided, I have been shot repeatedly (hurray for Kevlar!), burned in a structure fire, chased by hundreds of Zombies, starving and thirsty, bleeding badly judging from the blood soaked bandage on my leg and the stream dripping into my left eye, and now some jackass is trying to snipe me from the very place I desperately need to get to for safety and medical treatment.
Somewhere Murphy is having a gut busting laugh at my expense.
At this point I can hardly keep conscious, the fall from the skateboard episode nearly made me black out, falling onto my back reminded me how tender my ribs were from the .45 slugs that tore into my vest.
Each breath feels like someone slipping a red hot knife between by ribs.
‘Fuck tender,’ I thought dragging in a shallow breath and then spitting a blood drenched glob on the pavement, ‘I am positive something is broke…’
I don’t recall getting to my feet, I might have crawled a distance for the prison is now much closer and looms large, filling my vision as black spots dance in my eyes.
Sounds seems like they are muted somewhat, as if I had ear plugs on, and what is muted is replaced by a roaring sound. Kind of like a seashell held up to your ear.
My pistol is empty, and I don’t have the focus or energy to reload, so I slowly drag out my Ontario spec plus survival machete and transfer it to my left hand, walking staff in the right.
With every remaining ounce of energy, I make my final push towards the prison, not caring if I get shot, I can’t evade them anyways now.
I made it all of three steps when all of the sudden I am on the ground staring up at the sky, lying on my back.
Overhead I see a large crow sitting on an electrical line staring at me with its beady eyes…

********

By now the yelling and shooting has drawn a dozen spectators into the observation tower, all taking bets on who will tag the stick Zombie first, Logan, or Kleaner.
Logan was heavily favored judging by the odds given.
“What the hell is it doing now? It just fell down without me shooting.” Logan said.
Several others threw out their opinions, none making sense.
For example; it isn’t asleep, Zombies don’t need sleep. Maybe it is playing ‘possum’?
Either way it isn’t sport to shoot a target that is not even trying.
‘Wouldn’t be fair,’ he thought, ‘besides there were plenty of other Zombies behind the stick Zombie that had plenty of sport left in them.’
A loud barrage of gunfire in the distance tore through the afternoon air.
Swinging the scope farther south, Logan sees that it was Stephen and Casper’s raid returning from their mission and was currently under attack from the large scale Zombie mob the was led here by stick Zombie.
“Hey guys listen up,” Logan shouted.
As they all quieted down, he continued, “For now let’s leave the stick Zombie alone and thin out the herd behind him. Stephen’s convoy is on the other side and under attack from them.”
No more needed saying, as a dozen rifles were quickly stuck out of the windows and the resulting sounds thereafter were deafening.
Shell casings were now flying and bouncing all over the cramped observation tower room. Several people abruptly stopped shooting as hot brass went down the collars of their shirts, followed by cursing and shoving.

Down at ground level the resulting combination was devastating. Chunks of rotting Zombie flesh were shredded and ripped away by the hot lead that tore into them. Entrails from exploding chest cavities spilled onto the pavement causing other undead to trip or slip onto the ground. Limbs were severed and left twitching for a time, soon to be followed by their head traumatized owners.

Eventually the cross fire did the job and all that was left was the mop up duty of walking among the corpses to find the ones that were not fully dispatched. Stephen picked out a group of five seasoned men to do the work, and as they made their gory way through the piles of dead meat, Stephen got in his truck and drove over the squishy corpses directly towards the prison. It was a bumpy ride and quickly broke through to the other side. But then Stephen slowed to a stop as he saw the most unusual Zombie yet to date.
This one was crawling on hands and knees towards the prison. It had a long wood stick in one hand and was dragging a machete attached to the wrist by the safety loop of its other hand.
Its head was wrapped in a blood soaked rag and it was dragging its right leg behind it as it crawled weakly away.
Putting the truck into park, Stephen got out to get a better look at this ugly looking bastard of a Zombie before he kills it.
Stephen grabs his two way radio and slides it onto his belt and grabbing his AR-15 from where it sat on the front seat still warm from the previous gun battle.
Slowly he approached the strange, obviously wounded undead, and walked around to approach it head on. Stopping in front of it, Stephen watched the blood drenched creature gradually become aware that he was in front of it.
Instead of gnashing its teeth and trying to bite at him, Stephen was surprised when it fumbled for and finally gripped the heavy blade that he knew all too well. With a grunt of effort it rocked back onto its knees and the blade and staff was slowly, shaking with effort brought up in front of its blood drench face and torso in a defensive position.
Stephen’s face went blank with shock as his mouth hung open.

The bloody Zombie, stared without seeing, swaying from side to side finally rasped roughly “Fuck you Murphy…” it said roughly, “Come get some you fuckers…”
Recognition flooded Stephen. His friend, who he thought was dead, was actually alive after all!
Still numb with shock he watched as Mike’s eyes rolled up into his head and fell over onto his side unconscious.
Still reeling from the shock, Stephen lunged forward and pulled Mike into his arms and dragged him back to the truck. He frantically opened the tailgate and with adrenaline dumped strength, tossed Mike’s limp form into the truck bed. Running to the cab he got in and slammed it into gear.
With the truck engine roaring Stephen screamed into the radio to get the fucking gates open right fucking now and get a god damn medical team assembled fucking a.s.a.p.! He was bringing in a heavily wounded man who was left for dead, and wanted every available medic ready to work on him.
The speeding vehicle screamed through the gates as they were still in the process of opening, and lost a mirror on the passenger side in the process.
Sliding to a halt in front of the medical trailer, a team of people with varying medical knowledge had already formed up outside the trailer and within seconds had transferred the wounded man from the truck to inside where they could better treat and assess the injuries.
Outside the trailer as he could hear shouts of instructions and orders given inside, Stephen frantically paced. He couldn’t stand to lose his dear friend after he got him back just when he had finally came to grips that he was supposed to be dead.
“Hey brother we heard you on the radio,” Logan asked as he and Kleaner walked quickly towards him, “Who was it that you found injured outside the walls?”
“You won’t fucking believe this,” Stephen said, “I found Mike, severely wounded, outside the prison walls crawling on his hands and knees with this damned stick in his hands, possibly used it for walking. I don’t know though, he is pretty torn up.”
Logan reached into the truck bed, “You mean he was using this stick right here?” Logan showed Stephen the object he had grabbed.
“Yes that is it,” Stephen said nodding his head, “Oh shit; I need to tell Dan and Mattie that Mike is alive!”
Stephen grabbed Logan’s arm and pointed at the trailer. “You two stand guard; I have to go tell them the good news!”
As Stephen hurriedly ran off to tell the others, Logan looked knowingly at Kleaner whose face was white with dread.
Holding the stick in his hands like it was a live snake, Logan looked over at Kleaner, “We tell no one what we were trying to do from the watchtower, no one.” Logan whispered.
“Deal…” Kleaner croaked in reply…

********

Jonas could not believe what he just saw. The unbeliever Mike has just been found badly wounded but alive (for now)! Looking at the broken glass of the beer bottle/ message container that shattered near his feet, Jonas stood there clenching and unclenching his fists.
‘What the fuck does it take to kill these assholes?’ he thought.
The sound of broken glass had gathered the attention of the big man Logan who tossed a long piece of wood back into the truck Stephen arrived in and started walking over to him.
“You alright there mister?” the security guard turned security chief asked.
Jonas shook himself like a dog to calm himself, bent and retrieved the scrap of paper amidst the shards of glass “Yea I am fine, I was just shocked is all. The only ones I have seen come back from the dead are Zombies. Are you sure he isn’t infected? He sure looked like one of them.”
Logan looked sidelong at Kleaner, “Yea we kind of thought that too, but we were wrong. He isn’t infected, just beat up pretty bad.”
As Jonas stood there, trying to figure out a way he could use the distraction of the man’s miraculous survival, he was interrupted by a feminine scream.
Jonas whipped out his razor sharp knife in a blur, as Logan and Kleaner whipped their assault rifles up to the ready position.
From the inner circle of RV trailers and campers, a woman was running towards them.
Kleaner moved to intercept the woman, and was knocked down from a solid right hook to the jaw by Mattie who was not to be denied.
As she stepped over Kleaner’s groaning form, she then disappeared inside the medical trailer and closed the door.

Logan let his rifle hang from the one point sling and looked over at Jonas standing there with naked steel in his hand.
“Nice knife; looks sharp.” He said.
“You have no idea.” Jonas said and sheathed the blade as he spun around and stalked off in the opposite direction, needing solitude to think about the day’s revelations. First, he gets a note from the brother of his mentor requesting a meeting. Then the big bastard Mike shows up very much alive after he was written off as a dead man.
‘It appears my appointed quest is not derailed after all with the murder of the Father Kettle (more like a Saint in his mind),’ he thought as an evil grin appeared on his face, ‘no it isn’t over…it is just beginning to get interesting.’

********

Dan stood like a statue staring at the large map they have erected showing each survivor camp that they made contact with using the Ham radios. His ugly facial scar twisted like an angry snake as he scowled with displeasure and unease at what was beginning to unfold as time went on.
The large map had pins stuck in each area representing the location of survivors. The problem now is many no longer have made contact with him at their designated time and channels.
It first started with the retired naval veteran Phillip in Chicago; he was destroyed by waves of undead overrunning the city.
‘Does that mean the others were destroyed in the same manner?’ he thought.
Where there should be a pin; the spots that no longer are in contact have a large ‘X’ with a date of last contact next to it.
Each successive ‘X’ on the map slowly crept south and spread out according to the listed dates. Several of the groups had reported an up tick in the number of Zombies prior to losing contact. Others had been facing radio or power source issues. Dan is starring at a newly added X he has not seen before.
“Hey cupcake,” Dan growled to the Latino woman currently manning the radio desk, “Is this date entry correct? It was listed as today’s date.”
The woman scanned her log entry chart and replied, “Yes sir, they did not respond at 1600 hours as previously planned.”
Turning back to the map, Dan tells her not to call him sir and begins stroking his chin, until he realized it is with his amputated hand and quickly switches arms.
'This latest contact lost is just south of Oakbrook, a safe zone with at least a hundred people.' Dan thinks. His eyes following the highways, he realizes the need to get some eyes up there and see what is going on first hand.
"Whatever it is, it’s slowly coming this way.” Dan tells her as he makes radio contact with the much closer Bolingbrook and Romeoville safe zones.

These, just as the prison, were not the large FEMA safe zones, but were similar small groups of resourceful individuals who had banded together for survival. They had both seen the C-130 that had flown over the area and told him that it seemed to acknowledge their presence. Dan wanted to know if they had seen or heard anything from the North or East. They had not, but did confirm the reports from our graveyard shift guards that a large fire was burning in the direction of Chicago. It appeared that the whole city was engulfed in an uncontrolled fire, burning to the ground. Dan tells them to be extra careful and report any changes in the area around their perimeters, relaying his growing concern.

As Dan finished his conversations over the radio he exited the command center for a smoke and some fresh air. Everyone’s spirit’s had been lifted by the unexpected safe return of Mike and Dan lit his third celebratory cigar. From inside the safety of the prison walls, many observed and heard the wailing of hungry undead filled the darkening landscape like a marching army of ants. The earlier gunfire and slaughter had gathered a total of several hundred new shambling bodies in varying states of decay and each one sporting different disgusting wounds. From simple little bites that made it hard to tell it was a Zombie, only identifiable by its weird walking gait. Others had horrible injuries such as missing arms or legs. Still others had  ripped open chest cavities, with entrails trailing in the dirt and asphalt behind them as they walked endlessly around the prison, stopping to only repeatedly beat their fists on the massive thick stone block walls.

The guards were ordered not to waste ammo on groups this size. When these situations arrived, the men fired up the massive front end loader and the huge dump truck with the V-plow attached to the front. They then will use those machines to utterly crush the monsters into the dirt. Then use the same machines to scrape what is left into the massive corpse burning area for disposal.
It was quite disgusting to watch, however it was a necessary chore.
The guards were ordered to just keep watch, and when dawn arrived tomorrow the hoard will be taken care of, but for now do nothing.

********


Outside the safety of the prison walls, all was not going very well for Lewis. Lewis was currently stuck in the limbs of a tree. The tree was not very thick and bent dangerously close to the grasping hands of the creatures that surrounded him below.
Again he cursed that piece of shit former asshole cop Mike.
Again that man nearly gets him killed.
Again he just adds another reason to kill him and all he holds dear.
Again he cannot understand how that fucker survives.
Again he raises his fist at the massive prison walls and screams his rage.
Again he nearly is dislodged from the thin branches for his foolishness.
The deafening chorus of the moaning wretches below him rises in level as the fingers of the Zombies for a moment almost brush Lewis’ feet.
Lewis screamed at them in fury and kicked at the hands of the taller ones, knowing in the back of his head the more he shouted and struggled that it would just bring more Zombies.
Lewis had a most spectacular view earlier as he watched Mike struggle to reach the massive walls of the prison.
Each time he watched the bald fucker fall to the ground he cheered with glee, but then would curse when the big jerk struggled back to his feet. The last time he fell and remained down, Lewis could barely contain his excitement as the large mob of Zombies closed in.
He was quickly disappointed when the returning raid arrived just in time to slaughter the infected fuckers.

After several minutes turned into an hour of ranting, Lewis realized with alarm that scores of undead were showing up. So thick was the press of bodies that he had no choice but to climb the little tree in which he now was stuck in. The little tree swayed back and forth as the hoard pushed against it, but the mob surrounded it totally and the others opposite pushed back against it, somewhat neutralizing the effect. The result was the swaying of the entire tree. Lewis clung tightly to the tree and prayed fervently that it held out until morning when he could see to escape if he could.
‘It is going to be a long night…’ he thought as a whimper crept from his clenched teeth.

********

Several miles to the North and East of Joliet, a massive army of undead was being driven from Chicago by flames and hunger, and was pouring out into the surrounding suburbs. They flowed like a cloud of locust that spread out in all directions, consuming everything living in it’s path. This was no small hoard, but a mass exodus several hundred thousand strong and growing. The moans coming from the dead could be heard from a mile away. Already, several small holdouts of humanity had been swallowed with little advanced warning. A group of survivors holed up in a small industrial park near Oakbrook Illinois were overrun before even being able to make radio contact with a network of survivors that was organizing on the 2-meter band.

The group had up till this time mostly relied on stealth to avoid the Zombie's, and had only a makeshift perimeter consisting of a chain link fence along with several parked cars. The sentries reported a large increase in Zombie's and before all hands could even get to the fence, it was crushed by the weight of thousands of undead. When the person in charge of the radio drops it and runs towards her husband for safety, she neglects to get on the air first to warn others in the path. Her husband was being devoured alive on the perimeter, she was too late to save him or herself and together they actually joined the ever expanding hoard of the undead in its path westward.

Ended up being a pretty large chapter. Let me know what you all think. I am behind the eight ball now to get chapter fourteen done by Friday! It will start to tie everything together nicely. Thirteen down with five to go!

Very nice!  Just makes me want to buy more ammo.......

Great chapter, when is jonas gonna get owned? and now waiting again

Good chapter, Im glad Mike made it out. I hope lewis falls out of the tree.  I picture jonah looking like a carney balding on top of the head with long hair on the sides.  Good stuff keep it up.

The large chapter made up for waiting until Sunday.  Great addition.

Great update!

AKASL

LIVE ZOMBIE FREE OR DIE

It' okay but I'm started to be annoyed by several things...

1)  How is it that Jonas hasn't been fed to the zombies?  He was fully revealed as a traitor to Mattie when she was abducted and she's back now.

2)  Once Mike realized he was being shot at why didn't he just start waving his hands, or flip them the bird or something definitively non-zombie-like?

3)  Dan's behavior is now way beyond the lovable curmudgeon stage and should be dealt with.  I find it hard to believe that he's not suffering an iota from just having to amputate his own hand.  That wound, Hollywood cauterized or not, would be extremely traumatic and a definite infection concern.  Mag changes are going to be a real problem for him.

4)  Surefire suppressors being stored by a group from Missouri in Joliet, Illiniois, where suppressors are illegal?  Who bugs out TOWARD Chicago?  What happens when the BATF drops by to see where those suppressors are?

1st...........GREAT chapter. I'm hoping to read this Friday's update before I leave for deer camp Saturday morning.


2nd- my thought on the wharehouse full of supplies and weapons is that it belongs to Matvei or whatever his name is. The Tantals's were 5.45 Russian right? If it's a bunch of merc's setting up a resupply depot I dont think they'll be worrying about suppressor laws in the state.

And I was wondering about the Mattie and Jonas thing too.

Thanks for the feed back guys. Some of the concerns are actually addressed coming up, others not so much! lol
it's fun to have creative license though.

And yes, 14 will be up Friday

great chapter
thanks

great chapter!

When is chapter 14 going to be posted ?   ... Love the story. when is the movie coming out.

IT'S FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!   UHHHHH.....CAN WE HAVE IT?????

I'm thinking you need to produce a series of books on CD.  I drive alot and listen to scifi stories and would love a zombie story with a reoccuring theme like your story.

Time for the post

wheres the post ?

NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can't take it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cold beer - Check
Comfortable chair - Check
A few minutes to read - Check
Next Chapter - fail

We need moar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

maybe he got bit??

Can you chain a zombie to a desk with a computer and get anything useful or readable?

You guys are cracking me up!
I just got home and have to run through it and fix the errors my buddy found. Should have it up in a couple hours.
Gonna be a solid chapter

Chapter Fourteen: A Glimmer of Hope
November 5, 2011
Day 40

The muffled voices near me slightly make me twitch as my subconscious tries to kick start my brain into full awareness. Too bad the dark void I am surrounded by feels as if I had been placed in sensory deprivation chamber. It was all cozy, warm, and dark. But the bad thoughts that now swam through my head made it impossible to return to the blackness. Horrible visions of loved ones now dead haunt my dreams. Rivers of blood shower all the people I do see in waves of sticky crimson and makes what I do see very hazy and hard to look at. Mercifully the darkness begins to drag me down again, and I eagerly look forward to the oblivion descending on me like waves crashing onto a rocky shore.
Just as the blackness began to pull me down, I heard the voices again.
Now instead of horrible visions I have slight irritation starting to brew, then it starts to slip away again…
Again I hear the voices.
Now I try to listen to what is being said, and the more I try to hear the more I begin to wake up.
Bad idea; I gasp in sharp agony as consciousness is slammed upon me like a truck hitting a tree.
I hurt so bad that I longed for the blessed darkness to return, which of course it doesn’t.
Well I can’t be dead, I hurt too much…
Groaning in pain I crack open an eyelid slightly and look around.
My exhale of pain made the noisy fuckers near me stop their conversation and look over at me.
“Look, he is awake!” a woman exclaimed loudly.
Suddenly the small room is filled with shouts of happiness and relief.
Someone roughly pulled me into a hug and before I can croak out a cuss word in protest, I feel some wetness on my shoulder.
Whoever it is smells good.
Really, really good…
Recognition slowly dawns on me that it is Mattie and that she is crying, sobbing out her relief and stress onto my sore shoulder, but damned if it doesn’t feel good.
Looking up I can see my two close friends Stephen and Dan at the foot of the bed with huge grins on their faces. I begin to ask where Chris was when I suddenly remembered the tragic sacrifice he made during Mattie’s rescue.
Stephen walked around the other side of the bed and gripped my other shoulder.
“You look like shit brother, but considering what you went through it is a miracle you are alive.” He said. “Beside you always did look like shit so it isn’t a big drop in the beauty department.”
I started to chuckle and felt a sharp pain in my chest.
Wincing from the agony, I gripped my ribs and groaned.
Stephen now had a serious look on his face. “Take it slow Mike; you have at least two broken ribs, most likely from the gun shots your vest stopped.”
Mattie let go of me finally, and eased me back into my pillows and looked at me sternly. “You have been in and out of conscious for three days. We have been worried sick. Your fever finally broke today.”
And I believe it too from the looks of them. They all had dark rings under their eyes from lack of sleep, and they appeared to not have washed up for some time.
Sitting there on the bed I slowly took stock of my injuries.
Feeling my head I can tell I have a bandage above my eye line, my left arm is wrapped as well. I remember it had a decent burn on it from the church fire. The tight wrap around my torso protected my injured ribs. Continuing my body scan I next see the large bandage wrapped around my right leg.
My knuckles on both hands, while not bandaged were scraped up good enough to have half healed scabs on most of them.
Stephen seeing me look at my wounds started filling me in on the extent of the damage.
“You were more dead than not when we found you bro, like I said you were lucky to be alive.” He said. “You already heard about the ribs, you also are sporting a nasty leg wound that you had tried to stitch up yourself.”
Stephen smirked slightly, “Real shitty job of stitching it too you dumb bastard. It got infected and you would have died without an anti-biotic.”
Too tired to argue I at least give him the ‘bird’.
He continued, “Anyways the medics said you had damn near bled out and also have a nice concussion from the head injury along with the assorted bumps and bruises and burns.”
Taking a deep breath he finished up with, “In short…you look like shit.”
Dan, who had been quite up to that point lent me some caring inspirational words to help me recover; “Fucking pussy.”
And with that he snorted and stomped out of the cramped bedroom of my RV, but not before I saw the telltale signs of a smile on his face.
Ah, what friends I have.
“You feel good enough to fill us in on what went down at the church Mike?” Stephen asked hesitantly.
My eyes had drifted closed as I tried to picture what happened. But something was bugging me.
“What happened when Kettle’s men grabbed you Mattie.” I asked
“I have been having a hard time putting it together but from what I remember I walked into the back room of the store and was jumped from behind. Someone was waiting behind the door and grabbed me. There was other men in the room and I think...Yes.. they fought with Jonas as well. I did manage to get a shot off at one of them before they knocked me out. I woke up at Kettle‘s church.”
I could see that even talking about it was getting Mattie upset and Stephen must have sensed it as well and quickly steered the story back my way. Taking a second to clear my head I fought off the drowsiness and continued.  
“After I handed Mattie off to you I went after Kettle.” I said wearily, “I found him in the rear of the building bleeding from a few of the rounds you shot at him.”
Mattie had picked up my left hand as I explained the events that transpired.
“What happened next Mike?” I heard Mattie ask.
I didn’t even know but I had started drifting off to sleep again.
I opened my eyes slightly and looked her in her deep brown eyes that always seemed to hypnotize me.
Smiling weakly I whispered, “You don’t need to fear him anymore…I broke that sick fucker’s neck with my hands. That was right before I got shot!”
Now as the heaviness of my eyelids slowly dragged me into sleep, I heard her whisper ‘thank you’.
But before I went under I smirked slightly and whispered sleepily “You owe me...”

********

Jonas sat near the window of his decent sized camper trailer he commandeered from one of the fatally wounded men from Casper’s raid a few days back and watched as Stephen exited that asshole Mike’s RV.
‘Those damn bastards just refuse to die!’ he thought. ‘Every damned plan that myself or the others have tried to destroy them with has failed utterly. Well not really, for the youngest of the five (Chris) is currently worm food thanks to the assistance of a shotgun blast to the face.'
Thinking on it hard, Jonas realized that actually most of the small group has been traumatized severely at some point.
Chris is dead, Dan lost a hand, Mattie was kidnapped and sexually assaulted, and Mike was literally almost beat to death…all of them except Stephen.
Stephen must have a little guardian angel watching over him. The worst Stephen had to deal with was a bum knee weeks ago that seems to have healed up well.
“But all of that will soon change.” He muttered to himself.
Pulling out a small scrap of paper, Jonas began to list certain items he needed Lewis to acquire.
How the spineless bitch acquired them was not his problem, Lewis just had better come through with what was needed.
Finishing the note, Jonas pocketed it for drop off later today. Placing a large piece of wood upright against one end of the trailer, Jonas walked to the other end.
Spinning in place, Jonas’ hand was a blur; a split second later he was rewarded with a ‘thunk’ sound which revealed his dagger quivering in the wood. Pacing back to the wood, he wiggled the blade back and forth to remove it.
Returning back to the opposite end, Jonas spun and launched his blade into the scarred chunk of wood once again.
Grinning now as he pried the weapon loose, Jonas pulled up his shirt sleeves and tested the edge by drawing it across his left wrist.
The extremely sharp blade parted the several old cut scars crisscrossing his wrists like paper.
As Jonas stood there with blood welling from the cut, he cleaned the blood off the blade with a swipe on his pant leg.
The pain of the flesh wound made his mind focus. His uncertainty was banished, his anger and hatred stoked white hot with clarity.
‘Now who shall be the next of the little group of heretics to die?’ he thought, ‘With Father Kettle murdered by that bald fucker and his friends…who deserves to die the most?’
Mike was the easiest to dispatch right now but at the moment the most closely watched. Dan was a powder keg waiting to explode any moment, and he has heard that Stephen sleeps with his damned firearms.
‘So that leaves Mattie…’ he thought as his thumb grazes the razor sharp blade in his hands.
“I should have killed that bitch when I had the chance and risked Father Kettle’s wrath,” he muttered, “Now he is dead and that harlot still fouls the air with her breath!”
Looking out the window as Mattie emerges from Mike’s RV, Jonas’ right arm lashes out to the side. Not even looking, he hears the dagger slam into the wood again as it finds its mark.
“I won’t make the mistake of trying to purge the bitch of evil,” he growled, the only thing I will purge will be the blood from her veins…”

********

Lewis stood shaking his head in disbelief, staring at the note left by Jonas. The note was a grocery list of things that he was going to have to locate for Jonas. Some of the stuff he had never heard of except in the movies, and now he was supposed to find this shit? In three days?
Doesn’t the jerk off know there are fucking Zombies out here?
“I barely escaped with my life the other night in that little tree, and now I have to go on a fucking Easter egg hunt?” He said aloud.
Scanning the area carefully, Lewis knew he had to get out of here quickly to avoid being spotted by the guard towers and more importantly the ever present undead.
Retreating back to where he had stashed the truck that he had located earlier that day that still worked; Lewis climbed in, locked the doors and once again pulled out the list from Jonas and read over the stuff that he was supposed to find.
“What the hell does he need this stuff for?” he wondered aloud.
There was no explanation, no orders for after the stuff was gathered; just the simple message ‘I need everything on this list in three days. Don’t fuck it up.’

Lewis tossed the note onto the seat next to him and slowly rested his head onto the steering wheel in exhaustion, lamenting that he was so tired. It was mainly because he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he was stuck in that flimsy tree all night surrounded by hundreds of Zombies all clambering for his flesh and blood that was just inches out of their reach. Lewis had been tempted to just throw himself into the pulsating masses just under him and get it over with but his intense hatred of those cops, especially the big one Mike, kept him from killing himself. That and the fact that he was deathly afraid of dying. Which was a good thing for not too long after that dawn arrived and with the morning the huge steel doors of the prison clanked open. The noise drew quite a few away from the small tree he took refuge in. Then from inside the prison, a large front wheel loader and a huge city dump truck with a V shaped snowplow on the front came roaring out and slammed into the encroaching heaping mass of undead scum. The truck and loader continued running the Zombies over and over until they were decimated. The loader then scooped up the flattened corpses and dumped them into the burning pit area for cremation later in the day
It was disgusting to watch. The smells and the squishing popping sounds some of the corpses made caused Lewis to vomit until he could barely hold onto the tree as he dry heaved.
‘Damn stomach and ribs still hurt and that was two days ago!’ he thought sleepily.

The sudden slam into the driver’s door shook the truck and jerked him awake and upright. Outside his window was a badly mauled Zombie missing a majority of his face and throat. It pawed at the window and clacked its teeth together, trying to bite at him through the glass. The ruined windpipe caused the Zombie to make a hissing sound like air escaping a balloon or a loud farting sound rather than the typical moaning most made.
“I really should find myself a weapon of sorts when I get a chance, to kill these smelly bastards .” He said to himself. “This running all the time is bullshit!”
So focused he was on the Zombie outside his door of the truck, Lewis did not see the several that approached his vehicle from the front until they began to bang on the hood and fenders relentlessly.
“Leave me alone for Christ sake!” he screamed at the Zombies. “I can’t get a moments rest without you moaning assholes finding me!”
Lewis angrily started the truck and slammed it into gear and stomped on the accelerator. The truck jerked and bounced as it lurched forward, running over a handful of the attackers. Looking in his mirror Lewis saw that he had crushed a few and decided to take his anger out on them. Backing up, he struck more of the undead as they turned to pursue him.
And so it went, back and forth until the Zombies were a gooey pile of meat on the roadway. Feeling much better with the satisfactory release of pent up anger, Lewis began looking for places that might have the certain items that Jonas’ note said he needed.
‘It would help if the arrogant prick would let me know what all this crap is for.’ He thought as he steered his truck away from the nearby prison to start his scavenger hunt.

********

Another day, another dollar...The nap I took felt great, if you can call sleeping for five hours straight after a full nights sleep and breakfast a nap, but I woke up feeling much better none the less. Still a lot of pain, but it felt more like muscle soreness from an intense workout and a hangover than feeling like road kill. Slowly easing my bad leg over the edge of the bed I shuffle my way to answer Mother Nature’s call. Using everything around me to hold onto to keep from falling, I make my way to the facilities.
Judging from the contractions in my lower intestine I am guessing that is what woke me up from a dead sleep.
Shit, I better hurry…
Eventually I make it to the porcelain throne and get down to business. The following sound effects probably could be summarized as screaming Zombies getting wasted by an automatic shotgun.
At least it smelled that way…
Finishing my tour of duty, I figure I might as well hit the shower while I am here. It takes several painful minutes to remove the bandages and hop into the small shower stall.
Reaching up blindly I grab for the bar of Zest soap on the soap tray, and I come back with a pink bar of something that smells like flowers. Confused I look up where I got the soap and see some kind of frilly looking bathing sponge and several bottles of shampoos and conditioners.
“What the fu….?” I start to say. ‘Where the hell did my Head & Shoulders go?’ I wondered.
Looks like my part time roommate is appearing more permanent these days…
‘Guess I will have to smell like a girl.’ I thought as I shrugged and got down to working up lather.

The hot water worked wonders to undo the mass of knotted muscles in my back and shoulders. It took a while to wash around the list of injuries I had but by the time I finished I felt great. Turning off the water I labor to towel my beat up body dry. I felt good but weak as a kitten. Checking my reflection in the mirror I quickly lost track of counting the purple bruises that crisscross my body. Grabbing the toothpaste I scrub my teeth and then prepare to shave. I don’t like to grow facial hair; after about a week is all I can stand. Reason being I have WAY too much grey in it and I like to keep it clean shaven as to not remind myself how old I am every time I look in the mirror. Women say they like grey hair on men, but that to me is like hearing them say size doesn’t matter…

Now finished with my beauty treatments I again limp outside and back to my room and slowly replace the several bandages, then struggle to slowly dress myself. I had to take a few breaks as I got light headed a few times and broke out into a cold sweat. Judging by the angle of the sunlight peeking thru the shades, it was getting late into the afternoon and approaching dark. I figure if I am going to get some fresh air I better do it now or wait till tomorrow.

Shuffling slowly to the RV’s door I pass the couch and see that apparently Mattie had taken up refuge on it. It had been usually me sleeping their while I let her use my bed until she had her trailer up and running. Silly girl kept giving people her trailer and waiting to get a new one. Every time she got a new trailer/camper another group of refugees arrived just in time to take possession of it. So basically she bunked here with me, but not all the time.
Looks like my ‘Man Cave’ is no longer my sanctuary…but the first decorative candle I see is going in the garbage…
Opening the RV door I hop down the stairs and stand outside breathing in the crisp cool air.
Next to the RV door is the thick wooden pole I had used as a crutch walking back here when I was hurt.
Good I will need something to help my lame ass limp around. Grabbing it my attention is diverted by raised voices.

To the north I can hear a bunch of yelling and decide I better see what the problem is. Limping that way I see Stephen walking there as well. He sees me and hurries to my side.
“What the hell you doing out of bed?” He asks.
“Cabin fever,” I said, “What is going on over there?
Stephen looked over at the large group shouting at one another and glanced back. “I thought I would run our people through a little ‘Boot Camp’ to give them an idea of what we expected on raids and wall perimeter duty. We have about 205 people in our compound and out of that 205, about 140 are combat ready. Or will be after we are done with them. The rest take care of most of the group chores around here.”
“Good idea,” I said, “How did that mission at Casper’s survivalist guy’s place go?”
Stephen’s face went grim with anger, “Not good. We had a lapse in security and we paid for it with the lives of several men; which is why I wanted to run our folks through these exercises. I‘m thinking three or four days of training to get everyone somewhat up to speed. ”
He went on to explain what went down on the raid and I had to agree it was a cluster fuck. Sounds like this training could be beneficial.
Stephen abruptly changed topics, “Hey, I got a surprise for you.”
He picked up a Motorola walkie-talkie and got a hold of Logan.

I quit listening to him and went back to watching the recruits go through scenarios of maneuvering as a unit. My attention was broken up by an electronic whine as Logan pulled up in a little electric shopping cart. Seeing the Wal-Mart sticker on the side told me where they got it. You all know what they are…usually driven by very large people who act handicapped but most likely just too fat and or lazy to walk and push a cart.
Logan had a huge smile on his face, “Here you go broke dick.” He said as he climbed off the cart. “Figure to give your bum leg a break, you could scoot around in style.”
As Stephen and Logan chuckled, I swallowed my pride and gratefully sat down on the contraption.
“Very funny assholes, at least you could have mounted some chain driven machine guns or something on it.” I said.
“We thought of that, and here you go.” Stephen said and handed me a shoebox.
I opened it up and saw that they found a little horn that small kids have on their bikes.
“Wouldn’t want someone to walk out in front of you bro, those carts are quite. Now we can hear you from a long ways off.”
Scrunching up my face to look pissed I drove off at top speed…all of 5 mph.
The laughter could be heard from a long ways off…

*******

Dan sat uncomfortably in his chair in front of his radio equipment in the command center. He was used to being the one dishing out the verbal abuse and didn’t like being on the receiving end.
“And how many times am I going to have to chase you down?” The stern old nurse continued. “And all off this drinking… I told you not to drink alcohol with the medication you are on.”
“Yes ma’am.” Dan meekly replied. “Where is the hot nurse at that usually see’s me.”
His comment drew his a slap to his face.
“I am here now you dirty old man.......Do you want to die from infection? Amputation is a serious matter. You don’t look that good right now as a matter of fact. Let me take your temperature. I bet your on fire!” The nurse said, reaching into her bag.
It was true, Dan had not been feeling all that good the last couple of days, and his stump was sore to the touch. But losing his hand was far better than becoming a Zombie. Now with Mike still alive and recovering, maybe it was time he took a step back from the edge. ‘Still,’ Dan thought. ‘I do have my well crafted reputation as a heartless asshole on the line.’
The nurse, and not one from Dan’s fantasy, abrasively shoved the thermometer in his mouth.
‘Now the drinking, that could be a problem.’ Dan thought as the odd pair sat quietly in the room waiting for the results.

On a shelf in the corner of the room sat two small identical AM/FM radios that Dan had set up after finding them on a raid. They were digital and ran off 120v power as well as a set of four AA batteries. There had not been any broadcast on the radio for quite some time but Dan just left them plugged in and on. One was constantly scanning through the AM band and the other the FM band, looking for any signal from the outside world. There had been nothing…… until now.

The thermometer dropped from Dan’s mouth as the radio scanning the AM band stopped at 1000AM and picked up a strong signal. They sat quietly listening to the message and as soon as it was over it began to repeat itself in a loop. It was a short message but offered a message, a message that there were survivors and maybe all was not lost. At the end of the message it was learned that the broadcast heard at the prison was broadcast from the USS Normandy, a Ticonderoga class guided missile cruiser now located in Lake Michigan. Dan quickly found Stephen, Mike and Mattie who returned to the command center and listened to it as well. Finally Dan was able to rig a signal through a stereo receiver and broadcast the message through several loud speakers used to pass information and assignments in the prison compound. This, combined with the radio’s in vehicles and around the camp got the message out. As it started again Dan turned up the volume for all those gathered around the campfire to hear.

“My fellow Americans, This is President Greer. Before the current crises I was the Secretary of Veteran Affairs and now as the senior surviving government leader and in line with our Constitution, am acting President of the United States. I am currently recording this message from the USS Abraham Lincoln off the West Coast of the United States.
I send this message with a heavy heart. We are all aware of the disaster that has been brought upon us and the entire world. We have all lost loved ones and family members. I myself am included in this. This terrible disease spread swiftly an quickly consumed much of the population. Much of our Armed Forces were annihilated in a vain attempt to quarantine the large cities. We also had a portion of our soldiers at home desert, to try and save their loved ones. Many also want to know where the disease came from. Well... our scientists are telling me that it was an advanced biological weapon most likely developed in the former Soviet Union and deployed by a terrorist group like Al Qaeda. It is a highly advanced virus. It is known that the weapon was first deployed from Mexico with humans used as the delivery devices. At this time, where the virus came from does not really matter anymore. Unfortunately, at this time there is also no vaccine available. I’m sure that you also are aware first hand that the only way to stop the spread of the virus at this time is to neutralize the host. This can only be efficiently done by destroying the brain of the carrier. The virus does not live long outside of the human virus. If you are bit by an infected, it will quickly take over your body and you will develop the same symptoms as an infected. It is also unknown at this time how long before an infected dies off on it's own, but studies are being done to find out.

However all is not lost. Our Nation had many ships at sea during the attack and some stateside ground units remained intact. To this end all available elements of our armed forces have been ordered to the nearest Federal Safe Zone. On the East Coast this is located at the Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station near Havelock North Carolina. On the West Coast the Safe Zone is Whidbey Island Naval Air Station near Seattle Washington. Both of these Safe Zones are completely secure and well fortified. As additional ships have arrived and resources made available these Safe Zones have been expanded to include neighborhoods and farm land. Survivors are already being settled in these new areas. Perhaps you have seen our aircraft, whom have began patrols to asses the damage across the Nation. To this end We are beginning to set up a lifeline across the country. Soon soldiers will begin to clear a route across the country. Using Interstate 90 out of Seattle they will head East to Interstate 25, then 70 to 64 to 57 to 24 to 40 into the East Safe Zone. Units from there will be heading West at the same time. Eventually we will set up waypoints every hundred or so miles along the route. Folks, we have twelve aircraft carriers at our disposal and many hard working soldiers, marines, sailors and airmen. Combine this with the spirit of the American people and we will overcome this and rebuild. We encourage anyone who is able, to move to the Safe Zones for safety and to help rebuild. We have the recourses and need your help. If you cannot reach the coast, you can try to reach a point along out route and make contact with our patrols, which can lead you to safety. We look forward to you safe arrival. I hope to broadcast again soon with good news and further instructions. God bless you and God bless America.”

Finally hearing that at least we were not the only freaking people alive in the Country was a big relief for everyone. After a good hour discussing the ramifications of the broadcast, it was decided that nothing much could be done about it now anyways.
"Fuck the Fed's!" Had been Stephens final comment. "I don’t trust them and I don't need them bossing me around again. How long before they are going to start wanting tax money again?"
That gave us all a chuckle and everyone began to return to their tasks.
Limping down to my little ‘broke dick’ scooter, I hop onto it and prepare to take off. When I raised my eyes I see some asshole was having a bit of fun at my expense. For right in front of the scooter someone had planted a handicap sign.
And they gave me a handicap parking ticket.
And they put an improvised ‘tire boot’ on the little scooter tires…
Faint laughter came from inside the Command Center.
Assholes…
From behind me Logan approaches and sees my immobility dilemma.
“Problems Chief?” he asked.
Sighing, I look down at the ‘boot’ then back up slowly to Logan.
“Looks like my unpaid old parking tickets have caught up to me at last. Can you help me out?”
Chuckling, Logan dropped an armload of colored sticks he was carrying and remove the tire block.
“Appears someone has a sense of humor boss.” He said still smiling.
“Oh yea, I would be rolling on the ground if it weren’t for the broken ribs.” I growled, “What’s with the sticks?”
“Kleaner and I are making range markers and putting them out into the killing fields for those that are not as good shot as they think. To help cut down on some of the wasted ammo.”
“Great idea, what else new are you two doing?” I asked.
The look of eagerness entered his eyes.
“Well we are working on putting together an documented experiment on whether or not .22lr ammunition is powerful enough to put down a Zombie. We have a metric shit ton of .22lr and would love to put it into use. That is another reason for the markers. To see what the effective kill range is; if there is one. It will be  a couple days before we get going on that though, Stephen has got us busy teaching a bunch of newbie's how to shoot straight.”
“Outstanding!” I remarked. “I knew it was a good idea to put you boys in charge of prison security.”

As Logan picked up his colored range markers and walked away swiftly, I began to turn the scooter around to head back to my RV. Mattie had said earlier she had a surprise waiting for me and judging from the look she gave me, she may have interesting possibilities in mind.
After a short fifteen feet the cart abruptly died… someone drained the batteries…
Now as more laughter rang from out of the command center, I muttered angrily and fished my walking stick out from where I had it stuck it in the cart’s basket, and limped away cursing those I had thought my friends.

********

Mike was supposed to be arriving any minute…the news of his survival was the best news I had received in months. Everyone had been so happy over the reunion, but I requested Mike’s presence so that I could give him a proper thank you, alone. The long awaited knock came at the door. Flinging the door open from excitement, I scared him.
“Jesus!” Mike yelled!
“I’m sorry,” I said reaching out for him, “come here, you…sit down”
“So, what’s the big surprise? What did I do wrong this time?” Mike replied.
“What? Nothing silly! I answered. “Why would you assume something is wrong?”
“Because...” Mike slowly replied.. “I’m always messing up something, and especially with you, sometimes I lose my train of thought and I act like an idiot. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t apologize…” I responded. “I brought you here because I’ve realized something. I’m so thankful for you…and I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’m alive because of you…by the way, I knew you guys would come for me, but what the hell took you so long?”
“See, I told you I was in trouble.” He exclaimed!
“I’m joking silly. I really mean it though. I don’t know how to convey to you how much I appreciate you. Michael, when we all thought you were dead, I was a wreck. It was the first time I realized how much you matter to me. I couldn’t stop crying. If I lost you––” and immediately I became choked up, crying and unable to speak anymore.
Mike held me and quietly hushed me. “Please don’t cry, Mattie. I will never let anything happen to you. You knew I would come for you, I always will. And I’m here, ain’t no one getting rid of me. You can’t hurt steel,” and I felt him gently flex. I pushed back enough to look at his face and let out a soft laugh, “You’re ridiculous, you know that? I’m sorry I’m such a cry baby sometimes. I just can’t help it when I feel strongly about something. And, I just can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
“Oh now you’re just making me blush.” He was so cute when he got embarrassed. Big, tough Mike: blushing and adorable.
“Sooo,” I continued. “I brought you hear so I could say thank you and I figured I could do that by finally giving you that neck rub you always ask for.”
“Aw, yeaaaa! Can I get a back rub, too?” Mike was looking excited now. “My shoulders are killing me, as well…”
“Well, I do owe you big time so I think I can manage that. C’mon, get undressed and lay down.”
He gave me a bewildered look.
“Oh, goodness, you don’t have to strip down to everything, but at least take off your shirt and your pants. And plus, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before…remember?” I added with a tease.
“Oh, dear God,” Mike stated. “I don’t mind stripping down to nothing, I just don’t want to scare you.”
“Ha-ha-ha! Down to your boxers is fine.”

He lied down on his stomach and I straddled him and began the massage. As I started a very gentle rub-down, keeping in mind he was still heavily sore and recovering from his injuries, the RV fell silent with only Mike’s soft moaning and his breathing growing heavy.
“Are you okay? Am I being too rough?” I asked
“Noooo, don’t stop. Please don’t stop…Oh my God, I’m in heaven.” Was his only reply.
I giggled and moved down to his lower back, allowing my fingers to slowly glide across his soft, smooth skin. I deeply kneaded his muscles and felt him exhale and move his right hand to my right leg as he said, “this is my dream come true.”
After about ten minutes, Mike asked, “Mattie, please don’t smack me for asking, but, could you please massage my chest for a few minutes? It’s tight across the pecks.”
“Hmm…” I mused
“I promise I’ll behave. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” He responded in what sounded like begging.
“Okay, only for five minutes.” I relented....

He slowly turned over, and adjusted comfortably on his back. I, too, repositioned and softly placed my hands upon his chest. I deeply inhaled, finding myself surprisingly distracted by his exquisite physique. Damn, this man was fine! Focus, Mattie, dammit, focus! “Um, is this okay?” no answer...”Hey, Mike?”
He had been gazing at me and continued to do so, as if he were in a trance. I felt his fingers softly creep underneath the bottom of my shirt and caress my waist. I felt my eyelids sink and I tilted my head back slightly as I took a deep breath––It felt so nice to be handled softly. Before I knew it, I felt Mike hardening underneath me, pressing up against me as I slowly started to move along with his hands which were gently guiding my hips in a hypnotic motion. My breathing slowed and I felt myself becoming aroused…what am I doing?
But damn it, I don’t wanna stop. After some more intoxicating moments, I took off my t-shirt and moved Mike’s hands up wanting to feel him on my breasts…he slightly pulled away and hesitated. “Are you sure this is okay? I just wanna make––”
I abruptly paused, getting off and laying down next to him. It was silent as he looked at me for a sign of approval and a few minutes passed. Finally, I leaned in close enough to smell him, breathing him in. “You told me you wouldn’t do anything I don’t want you to...Michael, I want you to...
I never even imagined our kiss would feel like that…I melted like butter. You’d never think a rough, muscular man could be so gentle. I don’t remember how my clothes came off, but I do remember feeling his tongue go across my nipples, with a subtle sucking. How the fuck did he know this would drive me crazy? I reached for his face and felt his head move across my midsection, kissing me softly around my navel, moving down between my legs… and then an intense feeling of rapture and loss of control.
“Oh my God, you’re so wet…You’re dripping!!” he exclaimed almost in disbelief.
Why? Why did I allow this? How is this happening? Damn it! But I don’t care. I haven’t allowed myself to feel like this in years. Damn, this feels so fucking good! Then it happened, I couldn’t fight the urge…I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached down and pulled his face up to mine…”I wanna taste myself on you.”

As I tasted my own juices I felt his erect penis press up against those lips, meeting resistance. As he pressed harder I felt my breathing become exasperated.
“I want to feel you, Mike. I wanna feel you in me.” I moaned.
I could feel our hearts pounding and he slowly pushed harder. I gasped as I felt him break through with the head. I finally exhaled again and reveled in the experience. He moved deeply within me, giving me the entire shaft in a long stroking motion. I felt my eyes roll back into my head as I felt his ridge up against my clit…God, damn! This is driving me crazy, but I had to make sure I wasn’t too loud; I could hear foot traffic and chatter nearby. “Don’t Stop, Michael, You feel amazing!”

Then it crept up on me, I wanted to fucking scream out loud, but it made me want to cry at the same time. The orgasm was so incredible! I tensed up, gripping him and holding onto him so tightly that I stopped breathing for a moment. When I came back to full awareness, I felt weak but still wanted more.

I pushed him off and it startled him. He had a hungry look in his eyes and came at me, pawing at my body wanting to enter again but I held him off and caused his desire to grow even more. I started to get up from the bed and he softly but firmly grabbed me, bringing me to him face to face as we leaned on bent knees body to body. He grabbed me by the hair and kissed me again, attacking my neck.
“Put my tits in your mouth,” I commanded and with that he slowly bent me backwards, leaning over me and doing just as I asked, making me cream even more.

Can it get any better than this? Am I dreaming? If I am, don’t fucking wake me up. While still on his knees, I pushed him back on his bottom and slowly slid myself down on top of him, wrapping my legs around his waist and squeezing. As if it were even possible, I felt him grow even harder. “Mike, take me from behind.” With one swift movement, I was on my knees, driving my face into the pillow as he grabbed the side of my hips and held on firmly, working me up and down.
“Faster, Mike—don’t stop! Oh my God, I’m gonna cum again.” I felt him pumping harder and faster and instead of just grunts and moans, I finally heard him say something. “Oh, God, I’m about to cum, what should I do?”
“Cum with me, Michael. Cum deep inside me.”
“OH FUUUUUUCK!” and an indiscernible noise was emitted by Mike as I muffled myself in the pillow again.
I lied there, not able to move, still trying to catch my breath. Then Mike spoke, breaking the silence.
“WOW, that truly was my fantasy come true! You were incredible.” Mike finally sighed.
I could not respond yet and just smiled.
“And you’ve got a dirty mouth on you,” he added “I love it.”
I mustered up enough strength to hit him and we both laughed.
“Hey, Mattie…? I am definitely NOT complaining." Mike then asked. "But why didn’t you make me pull out?"
“Umm," I thought before continuing. "I guess I was caught up in it was and I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to feel you explode inside of me…I’m sorry if that scared you."
“You’re not worried about getting pregnant?" Mike asked. "I mean, if you get pregnant, you know you’re stuck with me, right?”
“Michael." I replied. "My concern right now is day-to-day survival. Remember? I almost lost you. I’m not stressing over that right now, but if that were to happen, we will cross that bridge when the time comes. BUT, if I ended up being pregnant, I would embrace it. I’m looking forward to motherhood—not anytime soon, but it doesn’t scare me. I am sorry though. I realize it is irresponsible. I will make sure it doesn’t happen next time. ”
“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! So there will be a next time? Wahoo!!!”
“You’re ridiculous,” I laughed. “I don’t know, should there be a next time?”
“Absolutely! And another, and another, and another!” He was quiet for a few moments, searching for the right words. “I’ve waited for this for a long time. I know we have to take this one day at a time, but you told me I should stay optimistic. If we both survive, I’m ready to be with you as long as you’ll have me Mattie…”
“Mattie?” He thought maybe he had said something wrong. ”Hey…” She was already passed out.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close…what a wonderful surprise.


********

The next couple days saw Stephen complete his training with the survivors in the prison that now made up the security forces. They had received basic training in team building and were formed into a Company level unit with four Platoons. These four platoons worked and trained as separate teams so as to build a well rounded knowledge of one another. They also received marksmanship training from Logan and Kleaner along with training in moving as a unit. Mike conducted the physical fitness training, along with hand to hand combat drills, for killing Zombies up close and personnel without getting your self bit. It was a little comical having the hand to hand guy teaching from a glorified electric wheelchair. Clothing was stressed as well. Nothing too loose that a Zombie could grab a hold of. And the thicker the better. Leather, canvass or anything dense that could slow down a Zombie bite was preferred.

The first three platoons were responsible for raids and would work on a rotating basis. The day after your raid you were off and free to work on side projects or take care of personnel matters. The next day you trained and were on standby in the event of an emergency, as well as pulling guard for the burn/burial crew. And this is where Stephens safe zone differed from most others. He expected everyone to be armed and had organized it as such. A sort of ’Minuteman Militia where everyone could be called on in short notice if necessary. Stephen made sure that each platoon was outfitted with as similar weapons platforms as possible. Every pistol was to be issued with at least five magazines, mag pouches and holsters. He put Himself, Mike, Dan, Mattie and Amber in Alpha platoon, as they were in fact the self described ‘A’ team. The platoon consisted of 28 people and was completely equipped with AR-15 rifles of various manufacturers and 9mm handguns, mostly Glock. Stephen however still carried the Beretta and Amber was now the proud owner of Stephen’s SIG 229 and his Mid-length AR-15 with the EoTech. A dozen of the carbines were now suppressed as well. Several of the AR-15’s came from the P.D and the rest scrounged from the local population.

Bravo platoon was also 28 strong and was completely equipped with the AK-74 Polish Tantal’s in 5.45x39 along with a variety of 9mm handguns. They also had the benefit of the matching camouflage uniforms that were located along with the AK-74’s. Charlie platoon, with 30 people, was armed with a variety of AK-47 rifles in 7.62 x39 and a few SKS carbines. Enough 1911’s of various makes were located to standardize around that platform. Delta platoon was permanently assigned perimeter duty and was the largest by far, with 48 people led by Logan, Kleaner and Casper. Logan and Kleaner owned the only two ACR’s in the compound. The rest were armed with a variety of semi-automatic rifles including among others the Mini-14 and Mini-30 and Remington 7400. Even a few M1A rifles and PTR-91’s and FAL clones. Also was a wide assortment of bolt and lever action rifles including the Remington 700 and Marlin 336. These were all mounted with scopes and were perfect for perimeter duty. They also carried a wide variety of handguns the largest contingents being the Glock .40 and Smith & Wesson M686 in .38/.357. The rifles themselves were chambered in a variety of calibers including .243, .270, 30-30, .308, 30-06, 7mm and .300 mag with an honorary mention going to Dan’s ‘Betty’ the .375 H&H which sat in the corner of a guard tower with a sign on it saying; ‘Do Not Touch‘. Nobody did.
Ammunition was available for all of these calibers for the time being with emphasis always placed on finding more on the various supply runs. The stores had long been gone through and it was now a house to house search.

The one firearm that was in large supply was 12Ga pump shotguns. So many Remington 870’s, Mossberg 500’s and Winchester 1300’s had been recovered in various configurations that one was issued to every adult in the compound. All were given slugs/buckshot in limited quantities and several boxes of bird shot which needed to be used at close range to have the desired effect. There was more than enough bird shot to go around. This went with Stephen’s philosophy of the ’Minuteman’. If the back line residents were using the 12Ga, it was because things had gone to shit and the Zombie’s were danger close. Every able bodied adult was also issued a handgun of some sort for personnel defense. All were taught how to safely handle and shoot the guns and so far there had been no accidents. Finally enough firearms remained in the command center to outfit dozens more refugees that might arrive.

Stephen was sitting in the command center and had just finished going over the updated numbers which reflected their current ammunition supply and reserve weapons. Mike, who for the last couple day’s had this shit eating grin on his face, had made some excuses about being tired and had wondered off to his RV.      
“What are you up to?” a feminine voice asked, catching Stephen off guard.
Glancing up, he see’s Amber standing in the doorway. She is dressed in a Colt’s sweatshirt and jeans and has rosy cheeks and a pink nose from walking in the cold. Her dark hair rests on her shoulder and Stephen stares for a moment before answering.
“Just finishing up here, wanna catch a bite and sit around the fire for a minute?” He asks.      
“You read my mind.” Amber responds. “I took a walk around the inside of the walls and I’m cold and hungry!”

Getting up Stephen shoots her a wink and says “Thata girl.. and I love the look!” While motioning to the SIG 229 that Amber is clearly wearing under the sweatshirt.
“You like that?” She teases back, giving him a playful shove before leaning in for a kiss.
“Your uncle has the baby?” Stephen asks, referring to the small child Chris had found outside of Peoria,  as they head to the fire pit.
“Actually no.” Amber replies. “Dan is now staying with a Mexican woman who has adopted the baby as her own. Dan say’s he feels responsible as he also brought it back. He said they named it Chris, It’s one of the nicer things he has done.”
“Don’t let him fool ya.” Stephen adds. “He comes off as a hard ass but he has a soft spot somewhere in there.”    

As they eat hearty bowls of Chili and cornbread by the fire Stephen brings up the radio station, something Amber had mentioned on their trip to Wisconsin.
“I made some inquiries over the HAM radio and found a guy at the Bolingbrook safe zone who used to work at a radio station.” Stephen relayed. “There is the old WJOL 1320AM station on the other side of town and he seems to think that we could get the equipment needed from there and mount the antenna on the roof of that smoke stack in the center of the prison yard. He thinks we could have a broadcasting AM station with little trouble at all. And with no FCC to interfere, we will be able to really crank up the power and punch a signal way out there. He is coming down here in the morning and is going to go over there with us.”
“Us?” Amber asks with a look.
“Training is all done baby!” Stephen teases and then reassures her with a arm around her shoulder. “We are in A squad and we are up tomorrow. Mike is going to sit this one out but should be good to go shortly. I‘m gonna be in charge.”
“Well that’s tomorrow.” Amber replies. “I have other intentions for you tonight!”
Seeing the gleam in her eye’s Stephen replies. “Now you read my mind!” and leads Amber back to the RV.

Stephen pops a bottle of wine and turns on some music as they share a glass. Buddy is then rudely pushed from his sleeping spot on the large bed and shoots his patented dirty look as he leaves the room. Laying down on the bed, Stephen undresses himself and Amber and is quickly consumed in Ambers soft skin, the sensual heat drowning them both in a sea of passion.

********

The following morning Stephen does not want to leave the warm bed with Amber wrapped around him, but can hear Dan yelling increasingly vulgar remarks over the loud speakers and is finally driven out of bed.
Arriving in the command center Stephen is introduced to Derrick Booth from the Bolingbrook Safe Zone.
"This is the radio guy." Dan remarks. "Now lets get this show on the road. Mike and Mattie won't be joining us today, but other than that we are good to go. They are going to be giving the head guy from Bolingbrook a little tour of our personnel paradise."
Stephen walks down to the motor pool after having Dan tell all of A platoon over the intercom to report there as well. There is a sense of eagerness and confidence in the group now. The one good side effect of the last botched raid was that the herd was culled of it's dead beats who are now rotting away outside the walls. Stephen see's Amber walk up, and gives her a thumbs up as he lays out the plan.

Alpha platoon is broken down into three squads and security assignments are given out. Several large trucks are going to be used in the convoy and a hand drawn map on a large table shows the layout of the building and surrounding area. This was checked on a scout run the previous day. The scouts reported only a moderate Zombie population in the immediate area. Props are used to show the battle plan. Toy plastic soldiers and plastic cars show the exact layout for every assignment so nothing is left to chance. Twelve volunteers from the prison are going to help provide the leg work of moving all the necessary equipment. Derrick is going to be riding with Dan and Amber volunteers for rear guard, a spot sure to see plenty of action as a convoy always draws a crowd of Zombie's in it's wake.
Stephen then gives the order to lock and load, and the convoy loads up and is let out of the prison by Logan and Kleaner, once again amongst a hail of gunfire.

Pulling up to the small station 1'st and 2'nd squads set up the perimeter while Stephen leads the 3'rd squad inside to clear the building. As they enter Stephen hears the four person rear guard heavily engaging targets as they fold into the perimeter. The training is already paying off he can see. The same good tactics display themselves inside as the two Zombies milling about in the lobby are quickly dealt with. Stephen puts them both down with single head shots from his suppressed AR-15. From their grotesque condition it was obvious that they had been stuck inside for the duration, unable to feed and they were nothing more that skin and bone.

With the building clear Derrick was able to show the movers what needed to be taken, as Stephen's 3'rd squad drug out the two decayed bodies and folded into the perimeter. The line was going to needed to be held for quite some time due to the disassembly work that needed to be done. Thankfully Derrick had explained that the antenna itself did not have to be removed as a sufficient replacement could be built on site at the prison.
Locating Amber, Stephen walks up and checks her position. At least thirty Zombies can be seen in this area alone and Stephen is glad that they brought as much ammunition as they did. He begins to engage targets alongside her and is impressed with her new found skill. He watches as Amber picks the two closest targets, Zombies that had managed to get close buy walking out from behind a blind spot created by a stalled conversion van. One was a white male, his suit tattered from the elements, and the other an older black female in a jump suit. Without even hesitating she fires at the female and a single round penetrates her forehead. A second shot glances off the side of the mans head, a wound that still would have been fatal to any mortal human. The Zombie loses balance and falls before trying to stumble to his feet. Stephen allows Amber to finish him with a third round, his head now gone in a red mist.
"Nice shot!" Stephen remarks.
"Now is not the time for flirting babe!" Amber yells over the increasing gunfire. " I do like the EoTech though!" She offers with a wink.

A radio transmission tells Stephen that some extra guns are needed on the north side of the perimeter and Amber shoots him a reassuring look, stating that they got this end locked down and to go have a look and help out. Silently nodding over the gunfire, Stephen peels off, watching while Amber grabs and loads a fresh magazine into her rifle from her pouch. Grabbing three extra trigger fingers and arriving at the north perimeter on the other side of the building, Stephen is greeted to a large Zombie hoard that has pressed in way to close for comfort. In the center is a most unusual sight. fifteen or twenty former high school football players are at the front of the Zombie hoard. They are still in uniform and must have been at practice at the beginning of the outbreak, and attacked while still on the practice field. Their uniforms were caked with blood and after becoming Zombies must have been unable to remove their helmets, the blood and gore is caked all over their facemasks.

Only able to soak in the sight for a moment, Stephen is forced to engage the group before they risk overrunning their position. The perimeter is small enough to not allow for any fall back position. As Stephen puts rounds into several of the helmets he can smell the stench of the rotting flesh and hear the moans of the Zombies above the crack of sustained rifle fire and the strong smell of cordite. The remaining football players in the center are now in pistol range as the others around them are shot away. It reminds Stephen of Pickett's Charge at the Battle of Gettysburg with a small few from the center reaching the wall. Only the Zombies do not share any of the glory that belonged to that great yet futile charge. As his rifle runs dry Stephen transitions to his Beretta and fires with two hands. The closest Zombie gets to within a mere 10 feet before being cut down. For once the sustained and heavy rifle fire was enough to hold the line. Before they group lay a twisted mass of fallen, rotting bodies. It would have been to mush for many of them to handle a few weeks ago, but everyone has been quite desensitized by now. An occasional shot still rang out as most had time to reload their weapons and take a drink of water.

After that the number of approaching Zombies slowed to a manageable level which allowed guards to rotate out for a quick break. Stephen was able to share a bottle of water and candy bars with Amber and she asked that the water be replaced with a drink tonight after they got back.
"Absolutely!" Stephen replied. “I’m buying the first round.”
The gunfire began to slowly intensify as Stephen was informed that after an hour and a half lull the Zombie traffic was again picking up. True enough as Stephen was greeted on the perimeter by a new heavier wave of undead.
"It's been over three hours, they should be done by now!" Stephen exclaimed looking back at the radio station where boxes were being hauled out at a feverish pace.

Stephen is about to go check for himself when nearly on queue he receives word over his radio that everything is loaded and the convoy can pull out. He returns to his truck to find Dan firing his AR-15 with the barrel laying out the open window of the drivers seat.
"Lets go fuckers!" Dan yells over the noise.
Pausing to make sure that everyone is loaded, Stephen boards the truck and orders the convoy back to the prison. The plow truck in the lead blows a path through the thickening Zombie hoard and it is clear to Stephen that it was a good thing that they left when they did. By the time they reach the Prison everyone is exhausted and others are waiting to unload the gear and begin setting it up. Stephen finds Mike and Mattie in the command center and informs them of the raids success and the lack of any casualties, other than an estimated 4000 spent rounds of 5.56, which was on the high end, but worth the expense to get a radio station up and running.
"Good job man!" Mike exclaims and Mattie shows her approval with a hug and kiss on the cheek.
"You two are definitely going on the next one!" Stephen exclaims jokingly as he heads back to shower. "I'm tired of pulling all the weight around here! and I'm going to get a beer!"

********            

The following day saw the rest of the work on the radio station antenna completed and I watched as Derrick set up the finishing touches on the equipment and showed several people how to operate it. That stuff was way over the head of this old coppers brain and I left it for the 'Geek Squad'.
"We will be ready to go online tonight Mike." Derrick told me. "And being that this is an AM signal we will be able to reach out even farther at night."
After much debate it was determined that we would send a message out that would give directions to our location for any survivors that could hear us. We would also give assurance that we were honest and responsible and able to provide shelter, company and protection for anyone willing to help. This message was recorded by Mattie and would play over a loop in between single songs,
"I always wanted to be a DJ!" Dan insisted.
"What kind of music are you doing to play? I asked.
"Both kinds." Dan replied...."Country and Western!"
Shaking my head as Dan picked through a stack of music, I walked away as he announced that his first song was going to be 'A Country Boy Can Survive' by Hank Williams JR.

Walking to the command center I am greeted by Stephen and Eddie who have just concluded a small HAM radio meeting with the several remaining safe zone's. Another one, located in Grayslake had reported heavy Zombie Contact and was now off the air as well. This left a feeling of uneasiness in everyone's stomach and it was agreed that everyone remaining would send scouts East toward Chicago to look for trouble. There were six remaining contacts on the air in the area with the two closest in Bolingbrook and Romeoville, both whom had fared pretty well due to the large number of industrial warehouse parks in their areas. We would be sending out a pair tomorrow and needed volunteers. Stephen also advised the safe zones that beginning shortly we would be broadcasting continually on AM 1320.

As Stephen signed off, I told him of my plan to go up and see the Bolingbrook safe zone for myself in a day or two, at the invite of their leader Kirk Simms, and maybe our scouts would have solid intelligence by then.
"Sounds like a plan." Stephen said. "Now lets go watch Dan put this Station online. I want him to play some Jamey Johnson!"      

********

As they listened to the radio broadcast as it began to repeat itself again, Chad Evanston looked up at the two remaining men that he had arrived with here in Wisconsin.
“What do you make of that Terry?” he asked. “First the message from the Fed’s and now this one from back home in Joliet.”
Terry Coleman, who had been a high ranking supervisor at the Joliet Police Department, scowled as his mind processed what he had just heard.
“I am not sure Chad; we definitely need to find better shelter for sure. We have been taking a beating on a regular basis and are low on just about every supply you can think of.”
“I agree, I don’t think any of us realized the extent of the problem when it broke out, or else we would have found a more secure place to hole up in.” Chad said.
Their current location was in southern Wisconsin near the small town of Lagrange at the summer cabin that Terry owned just outside a large forested state park.
It was a simple cottage, never designed for any type of siege.
While the first few days after arriving went by relatively pain free, they were then damn near destroyed by a huge influx of undead one foggy morning. The cabin was in a remote park but still only 30 or so miles from Milwaukee.
After a long one sided gun battle, they finally destroyed the large group of Zombies. But it seems that was just the beginning for the numbers increased day to day. Several of the co-workers that made the trip up here have died as a result of either getting bitten or by desperate humans fleeing the undead dangers Now it was down to just Terry, Bruce Hann and himself of the group that arrived originally.

They defiantly needed to get the hell out of here and the sooner the better, for only one of the three vehicles was still operational. The one they all wished still worked was the Bearcat. The Bearcat was a heavily armored bulletproof wheeled personnel vehicle. It was all but impregnable to civilian caliber firearms, perfect to protect oneself from the snapping jaws of Zombies. Only problem is the transmission broke on it about one hundred miles south of here on the trip up. Now it is probably a several ton roadblock where they had left it. The other vehicle that was no longer usable was the huge equipment/ personnel transport truck that held all of the police departments’ swat team hardware. That truck was destroyed by fleeing refugees that when they were not allowed into the small cabin, vandalized the truck by smashing out the windows, slashing the tires and shooting holes in the engine block. The third truck was the large Ford Excursion that was also a swat team vehicle. The big SUV more than likely would have been damaged too, however it wasn’t on scene when the equipment truck was damaged due to Bruce having it on a small scouting trip at the time. But now after hearing Stephen’s voice come across the radio, he knew that there was a great opportunity to join up with his workout partners and other co-workers.
“I have wondered what became of those knuckleheads.” He said to Terry, “If they have that old prison outfitted like they claim, then you can’t get a more secure location.”
“Those guys were always the ‘worst case scenario’ types. I am not surprised they made it and are actually ahead of the bell curve.”
“I think we need to make our way back to them,” Chad said, “We are doomed for failure here and there is strength in numbers. Stephen had mentioned that they had almost two hundred people in his group. We need them and they could use our skills and knowledge I am sure.”

Bruce broke into the conversation by shouting through the open front porch window.
“I’d hate to bother you two, but we got a problem, a really big problem.” He said.
As Chad and Terry walked onto the front porch; Bruce pointed down the driveway of the property and out onto the road.
Across the road was a huge grassy meadow, about three hundred yards of open ground leading up to the edge of the state park forest.
The three of them observed five deer running towards them across the field from the tree line.
“I saw a big buck earlier and shot it for some dinner, then three more ran past me so close I could have hit them with my hand. Something has the wildlife spooked.” Bruce said.
Watching the deer bound past the cabin, they soon saw a steady flood of deer and smaller animals such as rabbits and coyotes exit the timber.
“I got a bad feeling about this, men.” Terry said, “Get your gear and stuff together a.s.a.p. We are leaving now!”
The three of them didn’t have much to pack for they didn’t have much left to begin with. By the time they threw the last of their duffel bags and weaponry into the back of the excursion, the reason for the frightened animals became all too clear. From out of the trees came a sporadic number of Zombies that soon grew in numbers.
Bruce began to engage them with his AR-15. The bolt locked back after a full thirty round magazine had been emptied. He paused to reload and saw that not only did he not slow the onslaught of the undead, there was even more exiting the forest line into the open than when he first engaged them!
“Mount up Bruce! Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Chad yelled out the driver’s window of the truck.
“Looks like downtown Milwaukee just joined the party!” Terry added.
Bruce scrambled around the rear of the truck to get in the rear passenger seat as the wall of Zombies steadily approached their position.
Chad slammed the Excursion into gear before Bruce had shut the door. Slinging gravel from the rear tires, Chad sped towards the road.

They had just reached the roadway when the first edge of the mob reached them. Chad was grateful the vehicle they had was a huge SUV and not some little car, for while the huge diesel engine roared in response, it also shook from the dozens of rotting undead bodies slamming into it as he plowed his way through them. Finally breaking free of the press of bodies, He took a moment to light up a smoke.
“Gave these things up a year ago,” he said blowing a plume of smoke out the window, “if I live long enough to die from them now, at least it means I survived this bullshit!”
The three men traveled in silence for a few moments then Chad felt a tapping on his shoulder.
“Hey bro, pass me one of those,” Bruce said, I don’t smoke but could use one myself about right now.”
Chad handed his pack of smokes back to Bruce who lit one and immediately started coughing.
“Fuck it, give me one too.” Terry said holding his hand out.
Heading south down the small two land road, they began to talk about the route they will need to take to make it back to their home town…

********

Bravo platoon had just completed a successful raid of a full residential block and had returned early with plenty of supplies and no casualties. It was now midday as Stephen quickly walked towards the two men packing gear onto their machines for the scouting trip. When he was close enough to make out who it was he was surprised to see that one of the riders was Casper.
“Casper, what do you think you are doing?” Stephen asked.
“This is an important mission boss, I think that I owe it to you guys to volunteer to go up north to see what the problem is with the other safe zone areas that no longer are in contact with us.” He replied.
“I agree." Stephen responded. "But you don’t have to go. You have done great things for us here lately."
“I know I don’t have to go. But I need to do this for you guys." Casper continued. "Mike can’t go because he is still a little banged up. Dan is missing a hand and well...its hard to drive a quad with one hand. You have your hands full with day to day operation stuff and the running these raids. And you remember Frank right, he is coming with me!"
"Ah yes, the bridge tender." Stephen nodded in recognition. "And yes, I am taking Charlie out for the first time as a group in the morning."

Thinking, Stephen finally reached out and offered his hand which Casper and Frank both shook firmly.
“Well, make sure you take enough fuel and ammo to make it there and back.” Stephen ordered.
“Way ahead of you, boss,” Casper said, “Each of us has enough to make it about a hundred miles and we have several hundred rounds of ammo a piece. gas won't be hard to find out there and we both have our 870's and our Glock 17's. I have my SKS and Frank has his as well. Plus the old .45 single action.”
Casper and his partner climbed their machines and fired them up.
Stephen handed Casper a hand held Ham radio. “Make sure you keep us updated as you scout.”
“Roger that,” Casper said and turned to Frank. “Let’s move out.”
"One other thing." Stephen added, and pulled a rifle and a bag from his shoulder. "This used to be Chris's and I want you to have it."
Stephen handed Casper the S&W AR-15 with The EoTech and magnifier, along with a newly mounted Surefire suppressor.
"It should help you keep the noise down." Stephen added. "Take good care of it for him. The bag has ten loaded 30 round magazines for ya to take."
"I don't know what to say... other than thank you for entrusting it with me." Casper says. "I'll bring it back in one piece."
Giving the Honda four wheeler some throttle they headed out of the safety of the prison walls.

The trip north to the interstate was for the most part uneventful. The quickness and the agility of the small machines easily out ran and evaded any random groups of Zombies that approached them.
Cruising north, Casper and his partner took Route 53 and passed through the town of Romeoville. It was devastated and desolate just like Joliet was. Although he knew there to be a group somewhere in this town that has made contact with Stephen and Dan, he had no idea where they were located. Again several times they had to use the quickness of the Honda’s to get past many groups of roaming Zombies.

Finally they reached I-55 and took the north bound ramp towards Chicago. The interstate was a parking lot as was to be expected. Here and there were huge traffic jams that even with the small Honda four wheelers, they had to find vehicles that still worked and either move or ram them out of the way to continue north. Even though they were heading Northeast, most of the vehicles stranded had been heading south. The resulting mess had caused huge accidents and tied up the traffic even more.
Every time they stopped to move cars and trucks they had to keep one on security. The highway was still infested with Zombies and some were still trapped inside the vehicles. It was very time consuming and hard work.
Eventually they made it past a huge gridlocked area that spanned at least a mile deep of cars and trucks bumper to bumper with quite a few accidents mixed in with all of it.

Approaching Kingery Road The sun was beginning to set so Casper looked for a secure place to spend the night. The roads were way too clogged with vehicles and debris to continue north. They will have to wait till morning. Not seeing anywhere ideal to hole up in, Casper locates a large semi-truck with attached trailer. The truck had a huge sleeper cabin on it and one of them could sleep inside while the other pulled guard duties on the roof out of reach of any Zombies that might wander by. Taking the time to properly clear the truck and surrounding vehicles, they deemed the area for the time being clear of danger. Frank even took the time to open the truck to see the cargo and was greeted by the sight of bed mattresses stacked to the ceiling, and made Casper help him throw one on the roof.

********

“Man do you ever suck dude.” Logan said.
Kleaner stood up and looked over at his large friend.
“It isn’t my fault these little .22lr bullets lack stopping power at this distance. I hit that last one eight times in the skull before it died.” He said.
Logan snorted, “Yea I saw, but you are averaging 8.14 rounds per Zombie kill; whereas it only takes me 4.76 rounds per kill.”
“Are you kidding me? It took you nine rounds on that last one!” Kleaner snapped.
“Nope, that is where you are mistaken my long range deficient sharpshooter. It took four shots. I don’t know where you counted nine.”
“Oh really,” Kleaner said, “And how do you figure this?”
“Simple,” Logan said, and pulled out a clipboard. “I been keeping track of your sloppy shooting on this here chart I made.”
“Let me see that.” Kleaner said snatching the clipboard from Logan.
Glancing at the chart Kleaner’s eyebrow arched up, “Say, this is a very impressive chart.”
“Thank you, I try to be very thorough.” Logan replied with pride.
Kleaner saw the marked score he was racking up and tossed the chart back to Logan.
“This is bullshit; you are fudging the numbers asshole. I am out of here. You can ‘experiment on the remaining Zombies by yourself.” Kleaner said angrily and stomped out of the guard tower and down the steps. “It’s getting too dark anyways to shoot with any accuracy. We need to try this again, inside 100 yards and with me keeping score!”

Of course Logan couldn’t pass up the chance to berate his best friend; even if he was fudging the numbers to where he did win; that was beside the point. So Logan kept on rubbing it in with Kleaner until he was clear out in the prison yard before he let it go. As he stood there chuckling at Kleaner’s expense, Logan noticed a bit of movement near one of the ‘off limits’ area that was still abandoned and restricted from use because a large section of the roofing had collapsed and the floor and inner support walls were unstable. This area in the front of the prison used to house the warden when it first opened and was then converted later to administrative offices. Investigating Logan crept towards where he last saw movement.

Logan, for being a large man, could move surprisingly silent when he needed too. Creeping into the darkening and empty structure, Logan could hear someone muttering to himself up ahead. Logan came to a fancy Victorian style staircase and could tell that the noise was coming from above. Silently climbing two flights of stairs Logan hears a voice in the adjacent room. On this top level the ceiling was collapsed and several of the windows were no longer intact.  
“What the fuck does he mean he can’t find the fertilizer? He is an idiot!”
Logan walked out from around the corner.
“Who is an idiot and what do you need fertilizer for?” Logan said while turning on his flashlight.
Jonas looked up quickly, startled that someone not only found him but heard him talking to himself.
“Umm… a buddy of mine…I wanted to plant a garden. Need some fertilizer for it.” Jonas said.
“Plant a garden? It is fucking November 11'th, Veterans Day! Nothing will grow in this cold.”
“It is for the spring planting. One can’t be too prepared now a days.” Jonas said.
Logan looked at Jonas’ right hand. “What you got in your hand there?” he asked.
Jonas kept eye contact with Logan and slowly put the small paper scrap into his pocket. “Just notes from my deceased wife, God rest her soul.” Jonas lied.
“I see,” Logan said slowly, “Okay listen up. You can’t be in here; it is off limits and unsafe. You need to leave now.”
Jonas put up his hands in surrender, “Whatever you say boss man. Have a nice day.” Jonas then began walking towards the door.
Logan stood there shaking his head. ‘He wanted to plant a garden when it’s almost the middle of November! Now who is the idiot.’
“Hey!” Logan yelled, stopping Jonas in his tracks. “What are you doing up here anyway?”
“I just come up here to get away, think about my family and such.” Jonas replies. “The view is great. Hey come look, I found a telescope and have it set up here in the other room, you can see for miles.”
Jonas led Logan into the adjacent room and true to his word shows him a telescope set up near an open window. Walking up to it, Logan looks at it but then notices that there are other items in the room. stacked against a wall are six blue plastic 55 gallon drums that obviously have not been there long. He also sees several boxes stacked in a corner and begins to turn back towards where Jonas was standing when he felt a sharp pain pierce his back, near his kidneys.
The pain was so intense that he was unable to draw in a breath to scream.
Standing up straight Logan tried to reach back to the source of his unbelievable agony when an arm snaked around his throat.
“Told you the knife was sharp…what do you think?” Jonas snarled in Logan’s ear.
Logan began to get his breath together to scream.
“Now, now, we can’t have you spoiling my fun.” Jonas purred.
Jonas wickedly twisted he knife in the wound then ripped the blade from Logan’s
Back. He then spun Logan around to face him.
Logan feebly tried to push Jonas away but failed and fell back against the window ledge.
“You’re not one of my intended victims but you will do.”
Rearing back, Jonas then gave Logan a front kick to the chest, launching him through the open window, taking the telescope with him, and down amongst the slavering hungry jaws of the teeming undead.
Jonas leaned out the window, pulse hammering with the sensual pleasure that a victorious kill always gave him and listened to the munching sounds down below.
“Well if the fall didn’t snap his neck then I guess they can use him for target practice as a Zombie tomorrow…”
Jonas turned and disappeared down the stairwell and went unobserved back to his trailer to ponder his next move…

********

As darkness fell and the moon began to rise, Casper had a great view from the rooftop of the tractor trailer. The moon light lit up the surrounding area for several hundred yards easily.
Fog was beginning to roll in from the direction they were heading.
Casper literally watched as car after car was completely enveloped by the heavy mist. The road ahead of him dipped down into a slight valley which was slowly filled by the fog. The mist did stop and thin out at about one hundred yards or so in front of him.
‘This is not good,’ he thought to himself, ‘but at least we are out of any undead clawing hands up here.’

As the night went by Casper began to get sleepy. A quick check of his watch told him that he had another forty five minutes left of guard duty to go before he was to wake up his buddy to take over.
Finally Casper was able to wake his partner Frank up and get some shut eye while he took over guard duty.
All too soon however he was woken up to finish out the night pulling watch. The pre-dawn light was starting to brighten up the horizon and it was quite chilly.
Pacing back and forth up and down the length of the trailer to keep awake and warm, it was when he was up near the truck end of the trailer he heard something. Cocking his head to hear better Casper watched the thick fog up ahead.
There it was again. It faintly sounded like coyotes howling or something.
“Sounds like a fucking big pack of dogs.” He muttered to himself. This wasn’t unusual these days. Many family pets had been left behind and the dogs quickly turned feral and ran in large packs.
Still listening, Casper stood as if a statue as the howling got closer, And the closer it got the more cold sweat began to bead his forehead.
Now he could clearly hear screams mixed in with the howling.
Cursing Casper leaned over and slammed the stock of his assault rifle on top of the truck sleeper cab.
“Wake the fuck up man! We got company!” Casper yelled.
Switching his new AR-15 off ‘safe’, he held it ready to send some rotten Zombie fucker a lead appetizer consisting of a 5.56mm projectile.
As the rising sun began to light up the landscape, the fog to the north began to churn and roll as the screams got louder and louder. The sleeper cab jerked from side to side as Casper’s friend gathered his equipment and exited the truck. The noise was rising and falling just like the fog was ebbing and flowing, almost as if the thick mist was alive. Slowly Casper saw shambling figure move out of the mist. The jerky stumbling gait made it clear that they were Zombies. Casper’s rifle swung up and he began to fire with his suppressed rifle as the creatures cleared the white wall churning before him. As Frank entered the fight, the gunshot blasts from his SKS echoed deep into the distance, drawing more and more figures towards the sound of battle.

Casper’s rifle ran dry in seconds and as he reloaded a fresh 30 round magazine he saw more and more of the infectious bastards walk out of the thinning fog.
“Get the Honda’s started now!” Casper yelled to his partner.
While the other man went to follow his order, Casper scrambled down from the roof of the truck. Reaching the ground he began firing at the now much closer Zombies.
Doing yet again another reload, Casper froze in the act of sending home the rifle bolt.
Ahead of him the rising sun had burnt away the fog.
In the quickly dissipating fog remnants, Casper gasped at what unfolded before is disbelieving eyes.
Clawing and howling for his blood every step of its way was a Zombie hoard so huge, so ungodly large that Casper could not see its end.
Filling both sides of the interstate, packing over six lanes of traffic were hundreds of thousands of undead.
“We are going to need more guns…” He said calmly.

Turning back to his ATV, Casper saw the pale face of his partner Frank staring at the monstrous undead army flowing towards them.
Punching him on the shoulder Casper said “Snap out of it pal, we can’t do anything here. Let’s fall back and radio in what we saw.”
Retreating back about a half mile, Casper pulled up to a stop and got out his portable Ham radio. Reaching the communication’s dispatcher, he filled her in at what they discovered. Making sure that she relayed the information back to him correctly, they made their way back to the prison with haste.
Behind them the screams and howling mass of undead crept closer towards them with every slow dragging footstep….

********

Matvei sat on the hillside and scanned the small town below with his binoculars. It was evident that his men had been there, the town looked similar to several he had passed through in Chechnya. The evidence was spelled out in the burnt out buildings and the bodies of his former mercenaries laying in the street mixed in with the rotting corpses that had been the undead attackers. Matvei calmly observed the birds feeding on the corpses. He noticed how they seemed to avoid the fallen Zombies and only fed on the flesh of those who had not reanimated as a Zombie. He had been forced to become very patient as of late and spent a good half an hour looking for movement. He found none. Satisfied that it was safe he got back into the black Dodge Ram he had been driving and slowly made his way into town.

Matvei's mercenary army had long sense split up in the last week that he had been chasing them North in a vain attempt to regain his command. Twice he had followed different groups that split off and both times he had met a dead end as they had either been annihilated by Zombies or had simply disintegrated into one or two man groups to fend for themselves. Now however, he was convinced that he was on the trail of the last intact group and had been gaining on them the last couple days. From what he could tell they were about 50-100 strong. That was all that was left of his entire command. Only the strongest remained, the others were long gone or dead. This group was sticking to the plan however and he had followed them all the way into Missouri.

As Matvei got into town and exited his truck he could tell that this battle had not been over long. Several small fires still burned and the smell of cordite was still in the air. The others had left and North out of town and Matvei could tell from the tire tracks that they were still driving the command vehicle, which was a good thing. It would allow him to make radio contact with his ranch in Arizona to check on their status and let them know he was still alive. The fact that there were no Zombies around and that the fallen mercenaries still had their weapons on them led Matvei to believe that the survivors had been driven out of town by the Zombies who then pursued on foot. Matvei walked among the littered bodies and empty 5.45x39 shell casings and picked loaded 30 round magazines from his dead soldiers. He was also able to scavenge several MRE's and water bottles for his truck. He decides not to look through the rest of the town and concentrate on catching up to the others. He is not entirely sure why he hasn't just given up on the chase and made a go of trying to reach Arizona on his own. He finally decided that so much has gone so wrong that he just wants to try and salvage something.

After stopping long enough to refill his gas tank from several gas cans he found in the back of a vehicle abandoned by his men, Matvei heads North out of town and shortly comes to an intersection that leads in three different directions. He has had this problem before and stops to pull a worn map from his bag. On the map Matvei has marked various spots on his map. It would appear that the group was still headed to the cartel compound that had been set up near Oates Missouri in the Mark Twain National Forest. The sign on the outside of town told him that he was just leaving Alton on Highway 19 and that 19 was probably the best route to stay on for now, at least until he reached Winona. Checking his map he also has other depots marked as well. These were being set up by the cartel as Forward supply points located near various cities chosen as targets for the outbreak. This was to allow the American citizens paid by the cartel a place to fall back too and reorganize during the initial outbreak. The hope was to have a nationwide network in place to facilitate a full take over. Matvei now admitted to himself that this plan had been a little overly ambitious. The compound in Oates was by far his best option, it served as the fall back area for the greater St. Louis area. If by chance more supplies would be needed for the drive west he checked for the next closest location....... Joliet Illinois.
'Well." Matvei thought to himself. 'It's a little out of the way, but if I need to go, I need to go...I shall first see what Oates looks like.'    

Okay, Finally got chapter 14 up. Let me know what ya think. I know I like it.....
Now for the bad news. Chapter 15 may need to be delayed one week. We only have four left and I don't want the ending to feel at all rushed and may need an extra week to flush out the material. I should know where I stand in a couple days.
Thanks

excellent.

just........DAMN!!!

Good update but why is Jonas still alive?.............. he seems to have given himself away in this line .....

"I'm not seeing any radio's here." Mattie responds, while turning to face Jonas.
"Let’s look in the back storage room.” Jonas responds. "Ladies first!"

Walking across shards of broken glass that crunched under foot, Mattie led the way to the rear of the building. Passing through a doorway into the back room Mattie stopped in her tracks.
Before her stood five dangerous, hard looking men, none had a weapon trained on her but all had them in hand.
Mattie whipped her rifle up to a shooting position. “Who the hell are you people, and what are you doing here?”
The tall lanky man in the middle stepped forward. “We were waiting for you, my sweetmeat.”
The other four laughed loudly at this.
“Jonas, go get the others. I will keep them at rifle point until you bring help.” Mattie ordered.
The tall man, who first spoke, did so again. “I am afraid that is not going to happen, lady.”
“Oh really, dirt bag; why is that?” Mattie replied confidently.
With her attention focused on keeping all five men in her vision, Mattie was taken off guard when an arm snaked around her throat.
“Because not is all that it seems whore!” Jonas snarled in her ear.
Mattie struggled mightily but Jonas’ arm was like a steel rod across her throat, and just before her vision faded from lack of air and blood, she reflexively squeezed the trigger.
The rifle round struck one of the five men in the neck.

I take it that Mattie did not recognize his voice and possibly assumed he was another attacker taking her from behind?

These are just observations on my part as I am not trying to bash your writing skills or your story. There just seems to be a gap in the information on this one detail.

Thanks for keeping this story alive..

AKASL

LIVE ZOMBIE FREE OR DIE

Two amazing chapters!! Incredible work!!!

great update, thanks

Hey i live over by the Gander Mountain by the tracks.
Is my subdivision gone?

Found this today and it is awesome!!

KEEP IT UP!

Oh yeah its gone! I hope you made it to the prison

nice update smut peddler

Good point but damn dude, now he might have to go back and rewrite some stuff and that might delay the next installment.

Nah, no re-writes necessary. She was probably so traumatized she forgot that. Mike's gonna bang the memory loose and she'll remember.

moar