I have begun work on a new fictional story.  I humbly present for your reading pleasure (I hope!):


OUTLINE
Chapter 1 – A Rainy Day

Kyle, Johnny, Blake and Calista were bored. The cousins were staring down the wrong end of a rainy day. Sure, they had toys and video games, but today those just were not working. Their parents had long since called a halt to the game of hide-and-seek that had resulted in the near destruction of a fairly pricy painting in the hallway. It was mid morning and a monsoon of a rain had them locked up indoors with no promise of relief.
Kyle’s Granddad stood in front of the window and looked out intently, as if waiting for something. The years had not sapped the gleam from his eye, nor the youth from his heart. It was he who had bumped into the artwork in the hallway earlier. He really could not get around like he used to. Before the change had taken place. Before the kids. Before…
“What are you looking for, Granddad?” Kyle was always in good cheer.
“Oh, just admiring the rain. It rained just like this just after the comet.” The old man put a soft emphasis on the last words, almost in a respectful tone.
“You were there for the comet?” Blake’s eyes were wide open in disbelief, “that was a long time ago, according to Ms. Wilson.”
“It was a long time ago. Before was a really interesting time. It wasn’t like it is now.” Granddad retorted. He walked… make that hobbled over to the comfortable chair on one edge of the room and sat down, really feeling his age.
“Granddad, what was it like, before?” Asked the blue-eyed Calista. She was always thoughtful and really made sure to ask important questions. The reaction from her grandfather made it clear that she had struck gold this time. That question had him thinking. Just looking at the old-timer was giving Calista the satisfaction she wanted. But the answer really got her curious…
“Before was not really that much different than now. It was just after that things really got interesting. Before was a mindset. After the comet hit, events happened that changed the mindset of those who were lucky enough to survive. And change they did. It was change or die. And all too often, even those who changed still died.” The old man was getting comfortable in that chair.
“Dad, don’t go filling their heads with garbage!” Came the stern warning from down the hall. Kyle’s mother walked in. “They are too young for this history lesson.”
“Shoot – there were many kids their age that had to deal with the aftermath. I think it would be good for them to learn this part of history from someone who was there. If that is what you kids would like?” The Granddad had noticed all four of the children had gathered around his legs - sitting, listening intently. Sure, they had heard rumors of the time everyone referred to as “before.” Everyone had. But to hear things form someone who witnessed it with his own eyes? Now that was a real treat.
“Can he tell us about it, please mom?” Kyle begged his mother. The others chimed in, too.
“It’s OK with me if it’s OK with him. Just don’t get carried away.” The reply was a welcome one to all in the room.
Kyle’s mom brought in some lemonade for everyone. Before heading off to more civilized conversation with the other parents in the great room down the hall, she reminded the kids that lunch would be in two hours – whether the story was over or not. The old man set himself into the chair and recounted how it happened…
*****
October 3, 2008 – Nashville, TN

The government had never warned them of the comet. There was no need to get the public in a frantic state over something they could not control. Besides, the ICBM’s tipped with nuclear explosives and retrofitted for space travel had broken the comet into manageable pieces prior to atmospheric entry. The largest segment that hit Earth had been only a few hundred yards across. But five of the eight fragments had been less than 50 yards across. Now, as it was, rain had been falling for just shy of two weeks and the forecasters said it would let up any day now. A little more rain would be good as the comet dust had been washed down, but not washed completely away.
Life had almost returned to normal. For Greg, it had. He was returning from the western portion of Tennessee, marketing to what clients he could. Always the dedicated employee, he had returned to work only three days after impact. Most of his coworkers and counterparts had not yet returned to work. Many of his clients had not yet resumed normal business, but that was not in his control. Most of his competitors had not yet resumed work yet, either and that was where Greg would seize his chance. His clients already knew him as a hard worker, but he would give them no doubt as to who was the most dedicated to helping them make more money!
Greg was pulling in the driveway after a hard week of work. He saw Ben in the driveway next door. Friends for as long as either could remember, they had actually bought houses next door to one another several years back. Neither had regretted the decision as their families had always been close. Greg parked the car and checked the mail. Ben continued applying the weed-killing poison to the pesky plants growing in the cracks of his driveway.
“Savannah get home, yet?” Greg asked, almost disinterestedly. He knew what the reply was going to be by the simple fact that Ben was outside.
“No, she got held up another day by the rain. She is on standby for tomorrow. Only time will tell if she really gets to come back this time.” Ben replied with an understandable amount of frustration in her voice. The nonstop rain had wreaked havoc on the airlines. Flights had resumed, but schedules were merely suggestions – even more so than they had been before.
“Why don’t you have dinner with us, then?” Greg asked. He hated the thought of his buddy having to eat alone yet again.
“That will make the third time in the last week!” Ben responded. “I would not want to wear out my welcome.”
“Hogwash! Liz has known you as long as she’s known me. Besides, I think Christian is spending the night at a friend’s house. I’ll be glad to have somebody watch the ballgame with me while Liz does her scrap-booking!”
“I might come over – but if Liz so much as looks at me funny, I’m outta there. I know what a temper she can have!”
Greg laughed. He knew it was true. But Liz wouldn’t think twice about having Ben over. She would probably have suggested it, had Greg not already. Elizabeth Clark was not a woman to let friends go through a tough time alone. Both men knew she loved Ben and Savannah Hill as though they were her own brother and sister.

Denver, CO

Savannah was an attractive woman. That was not going to help her today. The flights had been cancelled for everyone – regardless of status, wealth, or other measure of importance. Begrudgingly, she picked up her bags and the gun case she was about to check and placed them in the back of a hotel shuttle bus. She had been out West, visiting Jenna - her best friend from childhood. Every time she came out, she brought her .270 as Jenna’s husband, Rob, was a shooting fanatic (like Savannah’s own husband, Ben). They had a little ranch and Savannah always liked to go shooting. When the timing was right, Savannah got to go hunting as well. That had not been the case this time.
As they were pulling away, Savannah saw an intriguing sight. A middle aged woman was bent over, with some dark liquid on her face – possibly mascara that had gotten wet and was running. Several people were gathered around. Before Savannah could make much more of it, the shuttle bus had pulled away. Oh well, back to another hotel room. She’d seen too many of those the last few nights. She decided to call Rob and Jenna and let them know. She didn’t expect them to come all of the way back to Denver, but she would want to know if the shoe had been on the other hand.

Montana – Exact location classified

Taje viewed the report in his hand exactly as he had the two hundred thousand like it he had seen throughout his military career. As a Lt. Colonel, he was very familiar with reports, briefings, and other government waste that passed as “communication.” He had made Lt. Colonel just over a year ago, but he had already grown accustomed to the increase in pencil pushing. A small part of him longed for the action, but he had also wizened with his age. He knew well that if you were close enough to engage the enemy, they were close enough to engage you.
The report read simply enough. It seemed that some people who had ingested some of the comet dust had become ill. That, in and of itself, was no surprise. Also, the CDC had begun testing on animal specimens to determine the long range effects of this illness. So far, the symptoms were found to be similar to a common cold – perhaps a bit more severe. Treatment was limited at this time – again to be expected as this was unfamiliar territory.
This report was somewhat different, though. Sure, he had read his share of classified information, but one line stood out from the others: Accelerated cases show a possibility in lab rats to cause death, and worse. Please be on the lookout for infected persons within military ranks. Detain and notify the CDC immediately in such an event.
Why would they need to detain military personnel and notify the CDC? Lt. Colonel Tajequan Miller was puzzled by this more than all of the other reports he’d been getting for the past two weeks.

Please post more!! I like it, very good writing. Just don't leave us hanging!!!

Toad

Chapter 2 – SHTF

October 4, 2008 – Denver, CO

The hotel room was cold. Savannah liked sleeping that way. She adjusted the thermostat as she left the room – hopefully for the last time this trip. She saw nobody at the desk but did not pay it any attention as she had her receipt in hand. Being a Gold Customer had its privileges and one of those was getting your receipt under the door and not having to check out. She walked briskly to the shuttle bus parked outside. The sign indicated it would leave at 8:00 – in fifteen minutes. That would be fine as her flight would not depart for almost three hours more. She took a seat and patiently waited.

Nashville, TN
Ben, Liz, and Greg shared the car ride into town. Greg was heading to his Saturday morning Jiu-jitsu class, with Ben in tow. Although he was a black belt, he still attended regularly. That, he figured, was why he got to black belt. Ben had his Blue Belt, but never more than that as he really enjoyed shooting more than hand to hand combat. But this day, Ben would go to practice, as well. Liz was going to pick up her son, Christian, at his best friend’s house which was a bit past the dojo. Then they would shop for a good winter coat for the growing 10 year-old boy before picking up his father from the dojo.

Denver, CO

The driver was late… very late, Savannah thought to herself as she checked her watch for the seventh time in the past two minutes. It was only 8:15, but Savannah was not accustomed to being tardy. The sign said 8 am, it should mean 8am! She patiently waited until 8:22 before deciding to go to the front desk to resolve this crisis before it happened. Nobody answered the bell. In fact, she searched and could not find anybody. Well, the airport was just over a mile away, she could walk it in less time than it would take the hotel to get somebody back from break. Little did she know that nobody was on break.

Nashville, TN
Greg was really happy after class that the head instructor had pulled out the samurai swords to practice more iaido (Japanese sword drawing). Greg was a first degree black belt in the art of iaido, and it was probably his favorite martial art, even though he held higher rank in jiu-jitsu and karate. Ben was just trying to keep up as they went through the drills. He was at least proficient enough in jiu-jitsu to know his way around the mat. With a sword, however, he was a complete beginner. It showed. He much preferred a pistol. It was at least practical for a real fight. But he held his tongue and kept up for posterity. He did not want to let Greg down.

Denver, CO

Savannah could not believe what she saw at the airport. It was almost like a ghost town. All screens showed all flights as cancelled. She called her best friend Jenna. She did not expect Jenna to make the 90-minute drive out to Denver, but perhaps Jenna would have some information. Her cell tried to put the call through, but to no avail. All circuits busy. Savannah tried again several times, but the phone lines were jammed. She decided to get to the nearest car rental agency. Whatever was going on, she could handle herself and find a way home – even if it meant an 18-hour drive.
The scene at the car rental agency was amazing. Perhaps everyone who had not been at the airport had the same idea as Savannah. The lines were literally out the door. There were hundreds of people in and around this small building. Many of them had coughs, Savannah noticed.

Nashville, TN
After class, Greg and Ben invited the instructor – Mike – to a sushi lunch along with Liz and Christian. Although Mike was not much of a sushi person, he tagged along and ordered some rice. A good time was had by all and by the time they departed, Ben had talked Mike into going to the gun range with him next weekend. Next door, the chain department store must have been having a sale, Greg thought. Everyone was there. Many of them had colds or something, because they were coughing. Greg was so wrapped up in looking to see what was going on that he failed to notice that the rain had stopped.
As the group made their way to the car, Ben realized the people there were not lined up for the department store, but they were part of a longer line coming from a drug store on the far side. Suddenly there was a great commotion. Ben and Greg struggled to get a good look while Liz and Christian got into the vehicle. The men watched as several individuals burst forth from the drugstore, their eyes glazed over. They were not coughing, but they looked sick. One, a large man in a polo shirt and khaki pants, reached out to a member of the crowd, picked the smaller man up, and began to bite him! The other sicklings – three of them in all – began doing likewise. People in the crowd started running in all directions. It was pandemonium.
Greg ran to the drivers side of the SUV. Liz was already in the driver seat and starting to get understandably panicked. Greg told her to go ahead and go home, he and Ben were going to try to restrain those crazy people and get the police. Ben asked for the gym bag out of the back. Greg knew that was where Ben kept his pistol. It was also where Greg had his sword from iaido class. Once they were set, Liz drove off and Greg and Ben walked calmly toward the biting sick.
The biters had subdued one man by that time. He was on the ground, screaming. Greg noticed several others from the crowd that was moving away that had sustained bite marks. Ben Put his hand on his pistol – a .40 caliber Smith & Wesson – and in a calm but loud voice demanded the Biters leave the poor man alone. No response.
“I have a weapon on me and I will protect this man as he can no longer protect himself!” Ben put an emphasis on the word “will.” Ben drew his weapon at this point. He and Greg were advancing steadily. The Biters continued their assault. The screams from the victim became frantic.
Greg followed as Ben began to sprint toward the assault. In a rush, Ben knocked the large Biting man off of the poor screaming man below. The other tow Biters turned their attention to Ben and growled. Greg was astonished, they actually growled – like a lion or some other predatory animal protecting their kill, he thought. The large Biter got to his feet – neither clumsy nor smooth, Ben noted – and began moving toward Ben. The movement resembled a stalking action, Greg thought. Ben raised his firearm and was about to yell a warning when Greg grabbed him.
“Look at that!” Greg had an edge in his voice that Ben had rarely heard. Greg was always very even-keel. He never got worked up. He did not even get very nervous or visibly emotional at the birth of his son! Right now, Greg had seen something, Ben decided.
Ben looked in the direction Greg pointed – all the while back-pedaling from the large biting man who was moving between Ben and the victim of all of the biting. What Ben saw was difficult to digest. There were about twenty people heading in their direction. Growling people. Some of the same people who had just been in the crowd that had moved back. In all of the confusion, the poor man who had been the victim of the biting attack got to his feet and scrambled away.
Ben and Greg turned quickly and moved for the drugstore. “Let’s call the police from in there” Greg suggested. Ben was obliged to agree. The moved fast – past the first three biters. Inside there was a commotion. There were more biters in there. They were easy to recognize as the eyes were glazed over with a neon purple glaze. The skin about the face was shrunken – like a very ill person. And these people did not speak. They did not move like people for that matter. The movement was more like the movement of a large predatory animal.
Greg wound his way down an aisle that had no biters. Moving quickly with Ben right on his heels, they found the “employees only” room. Figuring this qualified as a good time for an exception to the “employees only” rule, they barged in. The room had a desk, a computer, a phone, and several scattered papers. It was the phone that looked best. Greg ran over and attempted to dial 911. Busy.
Ben immediately tried his cell – same result. Greg had forgotten about his and reached for it to call Liz. He did not want her to come back to town and experience this. She needed to get home and batten down the hatches. Cell lines were down. Surely there weren’t many, many calls being made right now that crowded the lines. This was just a local weird thing, right? Greg’s mind was racing through these thoughts when there was a bang at the door.

Denver, CO

Savannah had been unable to get a rental car, but had managed to find a kind couple who offered to drive her back to Kansas City. She would be on her own from there, but she figured she could probably get the car rental company to re-rent her that same car back to Nashville. She had to get back after what they saw driving away from the airport. Two of the sick people suddenly vomited, turning a light shade of green as they did. Then, almost immediately, they stopped talking and started walking toward a single elderly woman and trying to bite her! They had not stuck around long enough to see what became of that scene.
As they drove off, the couple – Suzy & Brian were trying to figure out what it was that they had seen. The three went over and over the events in their heads – sometimes aloud, sometimes to themselves. Eventually, they determined that it was just as Savannah had seen – the sick people had been biting that woman. What on Earth had possessed them to do that they just didn’t know. Regardless, they all felt safer knowing that Savannah had her rifle with her… just in case.
Savannah loaded the bolt-action .270 and closed the slide. She took mental note of a small detail she had wanted on her rifle from day one. She had extended scope mounts that allowed her to use the iron sights without removing the scope. This might just prove handy. She hoped not to have to use either set of sights, but tonight was not her night. Just then Brian slammed on the brakes of the car. They were maybe 30 minutes outside of Denver and there was a small mob of people blocking the road ahead.
“Something is wrong here.” Suzy said as they got closer. The people were not moving out of the road. In fact, they were starting to move toward the car. Savannah saw that the front few had a strange almost – green tint to their skin. And the eyes. Something was wrong with their eyes but she just couldn’t place a finger on it. Brian slowed down to a near stand-still. The mutant-looking people kept moving toward the car. Make that cars. Several dozen motorists had come to a stop all around. Regular traffic was about to turn into a nightmare traffic jam. And the people a mile down might never know why until it was too late.
“Brian, I think we need to turn around!” Savannah said with an urgency in her voice.
“These people probably need help!” Brian countered. After all, they did look sick.
Savannah was listening to that inner voice that the female gender has. That voice was not reassuring her right now… “Let’s go. I think there’s something wrong here!”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Suzy agreed.
“Look, we will see if we can help. If we can’t, then we will just hop back in the car and go around them.” Brian said. Suzy made the mental note to herself that she had not married him for his brains. Nonetheless, Suzy went along with it.
Brian and Suzy stepped out of the vehicle and went up to the sick crowd, asking if they could help. The moment they were in arm’s reach, several of the sicklings lurched at them. The sicklings got to Brian first and began chewing at him – his shoulders, neck, midsection – whatever they could get their hands on. Savannah took the rifle with her as she stepped out of the car.
“Let him go! Now!” Savannah yelled over the increasing commotion. The biting sicklings kept at Brian with their assault. She pointed the rifle at the uppermost Biter. “Let him go!” her quiet-but dead-serious voice had zero effect. Under it all, Brian was screaming in pain as the assault continued.
Savannah’s first shot hit the Biter in the shoulder. He howled in pain as he was spun to the ground from the shot. Savannah noticed the exit wound on the back of the shoulder was oozing what looked like it should have been blood… but it was greenish in color! The other biters continued to feed. To the left, Savannah noticed that Suzy was being attacked in a similar fashion. Things were happening too quickly! She needed space and a moment to think. Unfortunately, she was to get neither.
A quick slide of the bolt and Savannah was ready to rock! The next shot did not miss. Headshot. Explosion. Grey matter. The distinctive sound of the bolt being thrown. BOOM. Another mess. Bolt sliding. BOOM. A third mess. These Biters just weren’t getting it – those who were still alive kept eating at poor Brian. Brian was now gurgling blood. The injuries taking their toll, Brian finally gave a last ditch gasp and expired… just as another BOOM took the head off of a fourth Biter.

Nashville, TN

Ben stepped out and Greg heard a loud BANG. BANG. BANG-BANG. Four shots, the last two were in quick succession. Greg came out to back up his friend and saw where Ben had shot two of the biters down. One was right at his feet and the other was no more than three feet away. “Damn thing tried to bite me!” Ben yelled as he and Greg backed up into the room again.
“Thing?!” Greg yelled back. “That’s a person!”
“They aren’t acting like people! Civilized people don’t bite.” Ben was hot now.
“I don’t know, man.” Greg was shaking. This was not like him. “How could you just shoot two people like that?”
“You saw what they did to that guy outside. I was NOT going to let them do that to you or me. No way!” Ben’s reply was quick, but his logic solid.
Greg and Ben opened the door. They were going to get out of here. The only reason they had come inside was for the phone and the darn thing was useless. Three biters were at the end of the hall. Ben aimed carefully. One shot. One dropped. The hole in the chest of the biter was oozing blood. The blood had a green tint to it! The other two moved toward Ben, spreading out to either side.
“Watch my back, amigo” Ben said quietly as he took aim on the larger of the two biters. One more shot. One more down. Greg watched in horror as the third biter started running – no, not running – lumbering toward him. But Ben was expecting that. After dropping the second, he turned and aimed at the last. It was definitely bearing down on them at a slow gallop. Space was limited – maybe 15 feet separated them. Ben aimed and fired. Down went the biter, thick green blood oozing from its forehead.
“Let’s get out of here. I only have seven shots left and I don’t know how many are outside!” Ben was fully juiced now. Greg followed to the door. They opened it slowly to peek out.
There were about ten biters in a group ahead of them – a dozen yards from the front door. Greg shut the door back. “OK, strategy?”
“Move quickly, get out and turn right. We will use the side of the building if needed for cover. Then we move from cover to cover to get out of here.” Ben’s mind was working furiously as he calculated possible scenarios. “Get that sword out of the bag, we might need it.”
“What am I supposed to do with a sword?” Greg asked, incredulously.
“Defend us, pal. Hopefully it won’t be needed!” Ben was not so sure, though.
The men turned and began slowly opening the door. It was ¾ open when a dull and powerful THUD hit them from the right side. The same side they were going to sprint toward!  The group of biters had been on the side of the door, looking for their potential meal. Greg and Ben backpedaled. Greg had the sheathed sword in his left hand. Ben raised the Smith & Wesson and fired at the front biter. He went down and the group started moving toward them at that galloping pace.
Greg and Ben were running backward as fast as they could – unwilling to turn their back to their attackers. Ben was firing as he went. Several biters dropped, but by the time they got to the room and closed the door, Ben was out of ammo and there were six biters remaining. Ben started pacing. Greg was just standing in the middle of the room, sword still in its sheath in his left hand, head down.
Then something clicked in Greg. All the years of martial arts training. All of the trips with Greg to the range. All of this preparation for what? For this moment, he decided. Ben had seen the moment earlier. Now it was Greg’s turn. And turn things, he would.
In a deliberate and practiced manner, Greg put the sword in his right hand. Using his left hand in his belt as a guide, he directed the sheath of the sword – blade up – into his belt on his left side. Exhaling, then with a deep breath through the nose, he placed his right hand on the handle of the sword and his left hand at the top of the sheath. In a smooth motion, the sword was drawn.
“Ben, get the door. When I say go, you open the door and stand clear. Use my distraction to get out of this building. Go around the corner as we planned and wait for me. If I’m not there in 60 seconds, go on without me.” Greg was steely cold as he spoke.
“I’m not leaving you.” Ben retorted.
“After 60 seconds, if I’m not out, there won’t be a ‘me.’”
Ben nodded and understood. It was now or never and they could not keep hiding in here. As if on cue, there was a bang on the door. Whatever had happened to these people had dumbed them down – they couldn’t even turn a simple knob. They also couldn’t seem to run really. So Ben decided to use speed to his advantage. If they ran, too, then he would see who was faster. But he would at least give it a fair shot.
Greg centered himself and moved his sword to jodan-no-kamae – an attacking posture with the sword held over the head. Nodding to his dear friend, he was prepared to meet his fate – regardless of what that might be. Ben opened the door and stood aside. He had intended to dart behind Greg and around to a far aisle to escape the building. However, the minute that Greg went into action, Ben became a spectator. The lone spectator to this aggrieved contest. Ben couldn’t help himself. The spectacle was too great.
With the precision of a practiced master and the speed that came with thousands of correct repetitions, Greg and his sword became one. A down slash here turned to a side slash there turned to a thrust over here. His blade reflected light and the reflection belied the incredible speed. It was over in seconds. Greg had decapitated, incapacitated and amputated his way through six biters in a flash of steel the likes of which had not been seen on Earth in over a century and a half.
Standing with his head held down, Greg looked at the sword in his hand. A slight smile crossed his face. Immediately, he executed chiburi – the ceremonial removal of blood from the blade in a controlled flinging motion. It worked for him as it had for the masters from Japan all those years ago and he sheathed his weapon. In a smooth motion, he replaced the blade and gave a bow to those whom he had just defeated. They had been worthy opponents.
Outside the scene was no less grim. There were a half-dozen corpses. These folks had obviously failed in their attempts to flee or fight back. What really shocked Ben and Greg was the fact that each of the bodies had been eaten. There was little left of each individual. The men decided not to take chances and hurry home. It was almost two miles away. Greg tried the cell phone again, but is was still busy. He checked the clock on the phone. 1:45 pm. That whole incident had taken 15 minutes! It seemed like forever!

Denver, CO

Savannah examined Suzy. It had taken so long to reload the hunting rifle that the Biters had done their damage. Suzy was no more. The three mutants who had attacked her were no better off. Savannah’s hunting rifle was effective. The barrel was hot to the touch. Savannah was still in shock over it all. The crowd of other motorists had gathered round – offering support, helping in any way they could. But it seemed to Savannah as though these things were happening to someone else.
Eventually, she got to the vehicle that had been rented by Brian and Suzy and drove off. There was no way to transport them. No way to call 911 – the blasted phone was busy. A truck driver with a CB had reached a local sheriff’s office, but they were busy handling other problems and told him to just leave the bodies there! They had thousands of others to deal with, the operator explained.
Savannah took the car and drove around the carnage. Some of the men had moved most of the flesh and corpses to the side of the road so that traffic could resume. She had to get home. As she drove, she worked the bolt of the rifle with one hand. Five more rounds were put in – one by one – and the bolt closed. One could not be too careful with biting, sick, half-humans roaming around.

Nashville, TN

Greg and Ben had made it about halfway home when the phone started working again. Greg had called furiously to Liz, but she never answered. Probably had her phone on silent and sitting in her purse. She did that so very often that is really irritated Greg. Ben had been able to get through to Savannah. He told her of their encounter with the biters. Then things made sense for her. Back at the airport. The elderly lady. The whole thing. Between the three of them they figured that these biters (that was the name they assigned them) came from the ranks of the sick. All three decided they would try to listen to news reports to get more information. This was an emergency of the greatest kind!

Montana

Taje looked at the new report. It was not better than the last one. It was worse. He read it carefully and calculated the ramifications. Of the test rats, all had become ill. About half had died of the illness, and the other half had turned into an almost rabid state. The rabid state was preceded in every case by extreme pain followed by the emptying of the stomach contents – usually through regurgitation. Affected rats had their blood turn a greenish color. This was also made evident under the exposed skin – it too turned a similar shade of slight green.
Taje was duly concerned by the report that the survivors of the transformation often became cannibalistic. Sometimes toward other affected individuals, but more often for the unaffected and other animals. However, it was the last line that worried him… no known recourse at this time. Affected individuals must be euthanized.
Colorado

Savannah was driving along. The news stations were frantic. Some disease was wiping people out, and nobody knew how to stop it. She did not know how long she had been driving – but she noticed the sign to Colby, KS. Kansas was better than Colorado for someone who wanted to get to Tennessee as fast as possible. She longed for home. Ben would be able to protect her – not that she needed it, but his mere presence always soothed her. She focused on the outline of his face. It was soothing just to do that. In the midst of her comfort, she had forgotten to pay attention to the road.
THUMP! The noise was deafening and the jolt was worse. She knew she had been thrown from the vehicle, and that she was alive, but that was all she knew. Except for those eyes. She saw the most intriguing eyes…

MORE DAMMITT MORE!!!!!

Chapter 3 – Friends together


Nashville, TN

Back at home, Greg was relieved that Liz and Christian were safe. Liz vowed to keep her cell phone on at all times. They did comment how the rain had stopped for the first time since the comet fragments hit the ground and sea. Most importantly, Ben had retrieved his stash of weapons and ammo from his house. He had an AR15 for himself and Greg. Also in the armory was an M1 Carbine and a Chinese SKS. Only about 200 rounds each, but they would fix that. Ben was thankful that Greg had the basics down. He was not qualified in any sort of tactical training, but he did know how to shoot straight on the range. Coupled with a defender’s advantage, this might make the difference.

Both families had over a month’s supply of staple foods. Also they had essential first aid supplies, basic medicines, and survival equipment – should they need it. The news reports they were getting indicated they may not need it. Whet they would need, and what everyone would need, was a solution to the new problem. This infection, this infestation, had become the leading story. Theories bounced around as to the start of the condition, but there were certain facts. The cold-like symptoms were the easiest to spot. After 12-24 hours of these symptoms, the infected individual would inevitably vomit, then either die or mutate.

The news outlets locally had referred to the mutated individuals as “biters” just as Greg and Ben had done. This was due in large part of the tendency of the infected to attempt to bite other unaffected people. The reporters all relayed what the government had indicated earlier in the day – about half of the sick would die and half would turn. Nobody knew why some turned and some died. This was a great mystery. Nobody knew why some got sick and others did not – this was the greatest mystery of the day. And for this reason, the Clarks and the Hills decided to stay home for a while.
Greg and Ben agreed that alone, either of them would surely have died in the encounter with the biters. Combine that with Ben’s knowledge of tactics and it was quickly decided that there was a certain safety in numbers. Their families must rely on each other to stay alive. When Savannah got home – and hopefully she would the next day – they would have five rifles. Half of a military squad. Enough to have an all-night watch without things getting uncomfortable. One adult would stay up very late (and sleep late in the morning) and another would rise very early (and go to sleep early). They could alternate days as well.


Montana

Taje got word that his unit was to be mobilized. He would be needed immediately in Ft. Campbell, KY. The military from all over was being called up to meet this new threat. He did not feel right about being ordered to turn his weapons on his fellow Americans.  However, if the reports were half true, then this would in all actuality, be a mission of mercy. He could not stand the thought of being forever caught in a rabid state himself.

October 6, 2008 – Nashville, TN

Reports from the news were getting very bleak. About a third of the entire population had turned into one of these biters. Christian was the first in the house to use the term “zombie.” The others agreed with this terminology. Another third of the population was dead. Three days later and America was reduced to less than 100 million healthy residents! Reports from overseas were very similar. There were pockets here and there with higher survival rates – but nothing statistically amazing. Nobody had a good explanation for any of this. One thing was for sure – if you got sick, you were dead – one way or the other.  

Monday was the first day that one of the talking heads had used the term “before” in conjunction with the comet crash. It was still unclear if the comet crash had sparked the outbreak, or if terrorists had, or if some foreign enemy had done so. However, the persistent rain, the two comet craters on land (one in Russia, near the China border and the other in Brazil), six ocean splashdowns, and the new comet dust would have been the story of any other decade were it not for the outbreak. Efforts were underway to determine the makeup of the comet fragments by some of the world’s leading scientists.

But the real events of Monday – from the point of view of the Clark family and the Hill family – started around five pm that afternoon. That is when Ben got the call…


Colby, KS

Savannah startled awake. She was immediately aware that someone was in the room with her, watching. But who? She paused for what seemed like an hour to listen and determine what she could before opening her eyes. Not that being able to see would immediately doom her – if whoever it was had wanted her dead; she would never have had the opportunity to awaken. No, she wanted to have as much information about her surroundings before being required to react.

She heard nothing out of the ordinary. It became obvious she was in a house, as there were the usual sounds of clocks ticking and a water drip to her left some 30 feet away. She realized she had her clothes on. That was a relief. But her boots were not on her feet. Still, that was far better than being stripped of clothing – or being in unfamiliar clothing. Cautiously, she opened her right eye – just a bit – so that she could see through the crack of her eyelid without announcing she was awake. She could not deny that she felt like she was being watched; but she could see no one.

Carefully, she cracked the left eyelid – still just a crack she could see out of, but no one could see her eyes were open. She wished to retain that tactical advantage, if need be. There was nothing to see but the ordinary and expected. She was in a room – likely a bedroom. She could see a dresser, the clock she heard, and the usual sundry items all about. Still, no obvious sign of a person. Finally, she had learned all she could like this. Fluttering her eyes so as to keep the appearance of having just awakened, she looked around. To her right was a window. To her left a door – swung open – leading to a hallway. Her .270 was not in obvious sight, but neither were her other things.

“There, there, now.” Came a reassuring voice. It sounded like a grandmother.

“Huh, oh…. Where am I?” Savannah acted groggy as she spoke.

“You have been asleep for over a day now.” The old woman replied.

“Who are you?” Savannah did not like the avoidance of her first question, but figured not to make anything of it unless the woman repeatedly refused to answer important questions.

“My name is Edith. My husband Frank and I saw your collision and found you on the side of the road in what used to be a car. You are lucky to be in one piece.” Edith spoke reassuringly. Her face certainly looked her age, but the warmth behind the eyes was unmistakable. Those eyes! They were the deepest shade of green Savannah had ever seen in human eyes. Almost cat-like in appearance.

“What happened?” Savannah asked, but in her mind she remembered. This was to be one last test to see if Edith was a captor, or a Good Samaritan.

“From what we saw, you ran into a group of those poor wretches that have been… er…. Transformed… into mad biting monsters. The news is calling them ’Biters.’ I don’t know what to call them except unfortunate. Anyways, there were several of them dead near your car. We saw the wreck and decided to have  a closer look. Frank saw that you were still breathing and we brought you here.” Edith was beginning to sound like Savannah’s own grandmother.

“Where is here?” Savannah asked again, but not pointedly.

“You are just outside of Colby, Kansas. We own a farm here.” Edith said.

“Where are my things?”

“Your gun and luggage are in the closet here. We thought it best not to bother your things any more than necessary. Dear, why don’t you go ahead and freshen up – the bathroom is the only door on the right,” Edith pointed down the hall. “I’m sure you’d like a hot shower and to put on some fresh clothes after all you have been through. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. You are welcome to join us.”

Savannah realized there was dried blood on her clothing and she suddenly felt like she’d been wearing the clothes for three straight days… which was, in fact, the truth. And she was very hungry, and had to go to the bathroom desperately. But most importantly – she needed to call Ben!


Nashville, TN

Ben got the call a little after 5 pm. He had just been helping Liz get familiar with the M1 Carbine. She had been a real pain in the ass. She was always like that. At this point, Ben had just learned to live with it, but with the world changing drastically day by day, she was going to have to start listening to people who knew what they were doing instead of being ‘miss-know-it-all.’ Ben had just finished these thoughts when the cell phone rang. It was Savannah’s ring.

“Hello?” Ben answered, somewhat uneasily – it had been over 24 hours since they’d spoken and all hell had been breaking loose during that same time!

“Hey, sweetie, it’s me. I’m so sorry I didn’t call, there was this mob, and people were biting each other, and…” Savannah explained to Ben every thing that had happened. EVERYTHING!

Ben listened intently, and gave reassurance when needed. Walking around his garage, looking at the stored goods he was now going to need, he was just glad his wife would be able to help soon. Savannah was glad, too. Mostly when she learned that Ben and Greg had been forced to take lethal action, as well. Savannah was all in favor of self defense – but actually killing a person (or what used to be a person) was new to her – she understandably needed reassurance that she’d done the right thing.

What Savannah did not know – but Ben was learning – was that this was happening everywhere. Nobody was safe. Police and military forces were not only having to deal with the turmoil – but deal with losing two-thirds of their forces. Same with the government. Things were going to pot in a hurry. And the media was all too happy to report every gruesome detail and exploit it all.

They had been on the phone for over an hour when Ben’s phone beeped. He looked and saw Greg was calling him. Ben made the right decision and sent Greg to Voice Mail. Savannah still needed him. The phone beeped again. Greg sometimes did that in case the call was not properly connected the first time. Again, Ben sent him to the wireless world of answering machines that nobody ever sees. Savannah was going on about how nice the Stewarts were – Edith and Frank were so wonderful. And Greg called again.

Greg only called three straight times in an emergency. That was their pre-arranged signal form before the comet hit. Before… Ben thought. That described it perfectly. Ben said his goodbyes to Savannah and clicked over… to a madhouse!

“Ben… Oh my God, they are here. Help!” Greg’s voice was tense and the last words came out over the sounds of gunfire – which Ben heard on the phone and from outside his kitchen window.

“I’m coming – from the back of the house – DON’T SHOOT THAT WAY!!!” Ben grabbed his AR15 and toggled on the tactical reticule. Running out the back, he heard the commotion before he saw it. There was a group of a dozen or so biters mobbed at the front of Greg’s house.

Gunfire. And with it, a body lurched back from the front of the home. Ben had to make a split-second decision. And decide he did. He used the front corner of the house as his cover. Running up to the corner, he targeted one of the Biters at the end of the group. A quick double tap to the chest and the final headshot was not needed. Several of the Biters turned to view their new adversary – who was still in his grey and blue house shoes (the ones with bunnies on the front). Growls came from two or three of the mutants and the hunt was on.

They did not move fast, or smooth, but they moved undeterred. Greg took down two of them before being forced to retreat. He ran toward the back of the house and decided to use that next corner like he had done with the first. As he darted around the corner, he scanned to make sure there were no more Biters at the back of the house. All clear.
Peeking back around the way he came, Ben noticed the Biters moving toward him without fail. One was a female. She was first. A single shot to the noggin put her flat on her back – and in the path of the other. The second Biter tripped over his dead accomplice and stumbled to all fours. But he kept his momentum. Ben fired. Double tap. Headshot. Just like the gun range. It was that simple. Ben checked to the rear and to his left. The house was to his right at arms range – no biter would come that way. Then the drool hit his face. From above!

Two shots rang out before Ben could lift his weapon. But they came not from Greg’s house, but from another source – from 7 o’clock. The biter dropped from the roof with a dull thud. Ben checked to make sure it was dead and wheeled around to locate where that last shot had come from. No luck. But there was more gunfire coming from inside the house. Greg! Liz! Christian! Ben rushed in the back door and weaving his way to the front, came upon a war zone.

Greg was hunkered down by his overturned fridge. Liz and Christian were a bit more to the back – behind an overturned table. Biters were trying to come in the destroyed front door. There were several dead in the foyer and on the front  porch. The remaining Biters were not just coming headlong into the foray. They were crouching behind corners and rails. They were taking cover as any good predator would before pouncing on its prey. Ben’s presence seemed to shift the momentum.

In a sudden motion, Ben nodded to Greg and both of them charged out the door – taking out several Biters in the process. The charge overwhelmed the remaining Biters, who turned and fled. They did not back down yesterday, Ben noted to himself. Ben and Greg posted themselves on the porch rail and began picking off the fleeing zombies. Liz and Christian moved up to assist – Christian to the right and Liz to the left.

“No – get back in the house. Greg and I will handle this!” Ben ordered.

Liz, not being accustomed to doing as she was asked (or told, Ben reminded himself) stood defiantly. “You can’t get them all, you need help. Christian – go to the right and set up like you father and Ben have done. I’ll take the left. We need to shoot these things so they don’t come back!”

Ben did not make an issue of it – time was the issue here. He immediately took aim and fired. Another Biter down. Christian was firing along side him. Liz and Greg were on the other side of the porch. Biters were dropping left and right. There must have been more than just a dozen, Ben thought to himself. Then Ben caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. Christian screamed…

Chapter 4 will be available this weekend, if anybody here wants to read it.

You dame bet'cha!

Chapter 4 – Clear the Neighborhood

Nashville, TN

Greg looked at his son with agony. It had been over before it began. Greg had acted immediately – faster than he ever knew was possible. But he had not been quick enough. The Biters had come from around the side of the house. Three of them tackled Christian before he knew what hit him. Christian had been so focused on targeting the fleeing zombies, that he never saw the attack coming. Fortunately, Christian had only been wounded in the encounter. They had bitten him all about the upper chest, neck, and face – before Ben and Greg took them out. None of the bites were too deep, and the pain was bearable.

Ben was fuming. After Christian’s wounds were dressed, he moved away from Liz. Her arrogance and stupidity had led to her son getting attacked. There had been no way to prevent the ambush, to be sure. But had Liz listened to Ben and stayed inside with Christian, nobody would be hurt right now. Liz had always been “the princess” and unable to follow orders – even if they were obviously right – opting instead to try to take charge herself. This frequently blew up in her face, but she never admitted it. Excuses were the best anyone ever got afterwards.

Liz was beside herself. “If Ben had been looking out for him, Christian would be OK!” was the straw that had pushed Ben over the edge and caused him to walk out. Liz couldn’t believe that this was her fault – only Ben’s for not looking out for her son. But deep down inside – and she would never admit it aloud – she knew her arrogance had blinded her. Right then and there she made up her mind to make better decisions and to let Ben and Greg know when she had a better idea. She couldn’t have them second-guess her.

The group was staying in Ben’s house now. The front door on Greg’s house was useless, and half of the entryway and kitchen were destroyed by the gunfire. Greg busied himself by moving essential clothing over. Ben stayed busy by checking his equipment and preparing for another invasion by the zombie hordes. There were bound to be more of them out there. The news was reporting high fatality levels by those attacked. Even though it was late afternoon, official casualty estimates were now coming out even higher than earlier in the day. Forget about one in three surviving, things had degenerated fast once the Biters got hungry. Now, it was a lucky area that had one in five surviving.

Power was out in many major cities. Greg wondered how it could be that power was still on in Nashville. Military and police forces were collapsing; the reduced numbers and overwhelming burdens were beginning to take their toll. Looting had begun in full. With looming power outages and the inevitable breakdown in transportation, people were rightly scared about the future. Greg considered their limited ammo supply. Only a couple thousand rounds – dispersed over several calibers – did not bode well for them.

“We must do something. We have enough food for the time. But ammo will be our next big item of need – to protect from the undead as well as human predators in their ‘right mind.’ Also, we must consider the need to train with these weapons. And train in proper tactics so we limit future mishaps.” Ben was taking the point in this initiative.

“We need tactical clothing, as well. What we have will do, but we have no camouflage or sturdy clothes.” Greg pointed out, trying to be as practical as possible despite the raging emotions associated with the recent injury of his son.

“Eventually, we will have to do something with those bodies, as well.” Liz stated.

“Right, but the first order of business is the acquisition of things that will keep us alive in the here and now.” Ben tried not to be too bossy, but keep focus on their needs first.

“Somewhere in all of this, it would be good to find out who was the good Samaritan during that assault and helped you out, Ben. Perhaps they could band together with us, as well.” Greg finally touched on the one question that had been in the back of everybody’s mind.

Eventually they realized they would have to list daily priorities, then list other tasks that were important, but not vital. First things first – they needed ammo and some gear. With current looting levels, they did not have much time. With that thought in mind, Ben and Greg prepared the SUV for the most important shopping they would ever do. They decided to go to the local sportsman’s store as well as the usual large chain that had a little of everything. They brought their weapons, side arms, and enough water and snacks for a day.

After they pulled out of the neighborhood and onto the main road, they realized quickly that the carnage that had happened earlier at Greg’s house had been repeated in most other houses. Unfortunately, not everyone was as lucky, or as skilled, as they had been. At one point, Greg counted 22 out of 25 houses that looked ransacked. Bodies were everywhere. And the Biters were not hard to spot. In the yard of one house, Greg noticed several Biters feeding on a deer carcass that had probably been roadkill a few hours earlier. These mutants were just hungry for meat – in any form it seemed.


Wichita, KS
Dear old Edith and Frank had agreed to get Savannah to the nearest big city so she could rent a car to get home. What they saw on the way in sent shivers up every spine in the car. The four hour trip had taken seven. Carnage was the rule of the day. They had seen many Biters. They had seen few survivors – most were in other vehicles moving at a good rate of speed. Savannah had noticed a sporting goods store on the way in and convinced Edith and Fred to drop her off there and head back to their own place.

In front of the store, during normal retail hours, Savannah realized that something was wrong. Several windows were broken and the doors did not look to be working properly – being jammed in an open position. When Savannah went in, she saw that looters had been there prior to her. There were no employees to be found. No other people. But, there was no evidence that there were any Biters around, either. Savannah took some refuge in that fact. The looters had been after one thing – the weapons. Surprisingly, most of the ammo was there. This had to be the work of people unfamiliar with how the rifles and shotguns would best serve them in times like these. No matter, she felt she had to move fast.

First item was a large backpack. Savannah immediately put all of her things in it and ditched the traditional luggage – just in case. This backpack had a hydration system, which Savannah promptly filled. Next on the list was some camouflage hunting clothes – both a regular set (and a backup) and one of the sets with the leaves and brush attached in a ghillie suit type setup that Turkey hunters use. If Savannah found herself on foot, these would come in very handy. A small tent and a sleeping bag, some fire-starting equipment and a small pan, some water purification tabs, and some prepackaged energy bars and trail mix rounded out her shopping spree. Naturally, she relieved the store of its .270 caliber ammo – all of it.

An hour and a half later, Savannah came to the realization that the car rental facilities were barren. Almost none were looted or ransacked. They were just empty. Realizing the depth of the situation, she wrote a note and left her contact information on the door of one of the bigger national chains. Then she marched over to the cars and selected a nice 4WD SUV. She picked the chain she did because she knew they left the keys in the car – and this time was no exception. With the power out in town, the spikes used to keep cars in the lot were inoperative. So she “rented” the car and began her journey.


Washington, DC
Taje’s flight to Ft. Campbell had been re-routed. There were new developments that were to be tended to prior to each commander taking his remaining troops into containment mode. Taje’s curiosity as to the nature of the developments was soon answered by the Major General who was administering the briefing.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said the Major General to the group, “we have new developments with regard to our new threat. We have good reason to believe that this plague that is going around is contagious to some, but not to others. While we still do not know the cause, what we do know is that the disease can be spread to every human by bodily fluid contact. So even if you were immune to the airborne strain, nobody is immune to the direct transfer.

“Treat this as you would HIV infection – no transfer of any bodily fluid – and you will be as safe as you are now. Also, it seems our scientists have discovered a likely vaccination. More testing will be required, but I have assurances that this is a formality. It seems that whatever caused this is easily prevented. The problem is that so many have already been infected and so many more will that containment will take many months – possibly years.

“At the current time there is no known cure. And with the spread by bodily fluids, all branches of the military and all law enforcement agencies that still have communications are being advised of two rules of engagement: 1) Contaminated individuals must be killed; and 2) bodies of the contaminated must be cremated. Incineration is known to kill the disease.

“We are up against what will seem like insurmountable odds. Therefore, nationwide martial law has been put into effect. Work with the survivors – we won’t have many. Work with their militias and recognize and even organize militias yourselves. We need every hand we can get. Issue field commissions as needed. Local commanders have the authority to field promote to one level below their own current rank. Let’s stay in this together and we can win. Check that – We will win!” The Major General stepped away from the podium and noted the serious expression worn by everyone in the room.


Nashville, TN
Supplies in hand, Greg and Ben were headed back home. They had made quick work – filling shopping carts with ammo, clothes, and various items that looked to be necessary or very helpful in such adventurous times. They had called ahead to Liz to let her know they were headed back. She encouraged them to hurry – Christian had come down with a fever and a cough. This news struck the men as very disconcerting.

When they got home, things were degrading rapidly. Liz had worked herself into a really deep depression and self pity mood. Christian was obviously sick. Ben said nothing to Greg, but noted that the illness Christian now suffered was not unlike those of the people they had witnessed turn into Biters only a short time ago. Truth be known – Greg realized this, too, but held on to hope.

Ben busied himself by unloading the supplies. It was after dark by this time, and Ben did not know what the night would bring – but he would soon find out. He was  finished unloading, and nearly finished with his makeshift tactical vest – made of a hunting vest selected because the pockets would easily hold 30-round AR magazines – when all hell broke loose for the second time that day.  

It all started with a thud against the front door. Then another. Then another. They were almost rhythmical. Then the growling started. Liz freaked out at the sound of the Biters growling at the door. Ben tried his best to calm her, but direct her at the same time. He had her go upstairs with Christian.

Greg and Ben plotted. They would go out the back and around to the North side of the house (the right side when one faced the front). By spacing themselves a few yards apart, they would not be easily assaulted, and their fire would not cross. They decided to work from the outside in, again so their fire would not cross. If they got overrun, they would head around behind the house and across, over to Greg’s house. Then, by using the cover of the second house, they would resume picking off these mindless predators.

“Let’s move it. And stay in contact at all times.” Greg said. He was on edge. He carried the samurai sword he had used not so long ago as his last resort backup weapon. The sword was slung across his back so as to not be in the way.

“Right. If either of us goes down, the other should come back in and use the windows from the upstairs to fire from.” Ben nodded. Although he did not carry a sword, he did have a large military knife strapped to his left side. He hoped he would not have to use it.

Moving silently, and dressed in camouflage, the men were hard to detect. The Biters had not shown any tremendous sensory advantage so far – but Ben and Greg were not going to take any chances. As they left out the back door, they noticed another Group of Biters some 500 or 600 yards away. They were crowded around something – feeding. Both men hoped they would not join the fray.

Ben and Greg used the concealment of a tree and a rose bush. They would provide no real cover – but the Biters had never been seen using firearms, so that risk was irrelevant. Once in place, the men opened fire. Taking down one after the other, Ben and Greg admired the accuracy of their AR’s in action. It was a wholly one-sided event. None of the six Biters even got within ten yard of the men. Before he knew it, Ben had a really macabre set of yard decorations.

“What do you say we go to that other group and clean them up as well? Take the offensive instead of the defensive?” Greg asked.

“Sounds like a solid plan. Let’s use cover and keep the same plan of attack” Ben responded. He did not enjoy killing the former humans, but he realized it was a necessary action.

They made their way through the neighbors’ yards toward the other group of Biters. This group was larger – some 22 strong Greg noted. Using cover and stealth, the men set up about 40 yards away. Greg hid behind two parked cars in a driveway and Ben across the street behind a mailbox that had bushes on three sides. At the given signal, they opened fire. Working outside to the inside, they picked off target after target.

When the Biters became aware they were under attack, they simply started toward the men – hoping for a meal of fresh meat. The Biters moved neither quickly nor slowly. Some actually were capable of a slow but steady jog. However, firepower and stealth were the advantages Ben and Greg brought to this conflict. The Biters could not easily see the men, except for when the muzzles of the rifles flashed. And when the muzzles flashed, Biters went down dead.

After polishing off this group, Ben and Greg grew bolder. They had two straight victories and they wanted more. They needed to win. It was as if this was their new mission in life – to eradicate this disease from the world. After dusting off the large group, they heard screams from inside the house neared Ben. Rushing over, they knocked on the door. No response other than the continued screams – which seemed to be coming from upstairs. Ben peered in the window at the top of the door. There were five or six Biters inside – they had probably come in through the glass door at the back which was now shattered.

“What now?” Greg asked.

“We move in and spread out. Be prepared to lead those things back outside so we can get clean shots. Be aware of your target and especially aware of what is behind it!” Ben was speaking quickly, but confidently now.

Both men lit their tactical flashlights and at the pre-arranged signal, the moved in and spread out. Firing controlled shots they took down the five Biters quickly. Blood was everywhere. Several dead people were in the living room area. Just then, Greg and Ben became aware of the shouts from upstairs. Moving quickly to the stairs, they understood why the other biters had not climbed the stairs – three large bodies were in the way. Carefully pulling the corpses out of the way, the men ascended the stairs – weapons held in a ready position.

Ben peered around the corner first – not wanting to rush headlong into a trap. The Biters – two of them – were outside what was probably a bedroom door. The screams were coming from inside the door. Ben darted across quietly into an open bedroom door. Greg took Ben’s old spot at the top of the stairs. Then it occurred to Greg – how could they shoot these Biters without endangering the people inside? There was only one solution.

Greg got Ben’s attention. Greg placed his AR down on the ground, out of the way, and drew the sword. Ben nodded, and drew his knife. Greg motioned for Ben to wait there and make noise at his signal. Ben nodded in understanding. Greg quietly stalked up behind the distracted Biters – within six feet of them!

The signal was given and Ben shouted, “Hey you undead summabiches! Over here!” Both Biters turned around. The near one had just completed his turn when his head rolled neatly off his shoulders. Greg’s left to right slice had landed decisively. The remaining Biter – a large male – crouched into a pouncing posture. Greg instinctively had returned his sword to Hasso-no-kamae – the posture used so frequently in the old days for scanning an unknown area. The sword was held tip up, with the top of the handle about 12 inches from Greg’s ear. This was not, Greg remembered, a good stance against another accomplished swordsman, but the Biters were not swordsmen.

Greg slashed diagonally downward – right to left. The Biter hopped back. Greg followed in a flowing motion with a left to right horizontal slice aimed at his enemy’s midsection. The biter continued moving backward and evaded the second cut as well. Greg lowered the tip forward and thrust again. The Biter was running out of room to maneuver in and Greg knew it. The thrust hit home – right at the heart. The Biter howled in pain. Greg ended that with a follow-up thrust under the chin and into the cranial cavity. As the Biter slumped over, Greg performed chiburi – the flinging of the blood from the blade – in a large circular fashion. He sheathed his sword as Ben walked up in amazement.

They opened the door and discovered two things – the room was a bathroom and a family had been trapped in there for what had probably been the last day or so. “Thank you so much!” The woman said. “We were trapped in there so long, I did not think we would ever get out! Oh, how can I ever repay you?!”

“Thank you, mister. And you, too, mister” said the older boy – no more than 12. The younger boy just clung to his mother. He appeared about 8 years of age and in good health, save for being a little hungry.

“Glad we could help. We live in this neighborhood – just down the street. We saw a mob of these zombies outside and were in the middle of eliminating them when we heard you scream. I am Ben, this is Greg. What are your names?”

The mother spoke again, “I am Sharon Kemp. This is my son Nathan” she said, holding the younger one. “This is Derek,” she held out her hand to the older boy. “I don’t know what we could ever do to repay you.”

“Never mind that now, we need to get you all fed and cleaned up. Looks like some rest would do you good, as well.” Greg said.

They decided to take the family back to Ben’s home and feed them. They would worry later about sleeping arrangements. It seemed that survivors should work together as much as possible because the Biters also worked as groups. The Kemps gathered several changes of clothing and most of the food they had remaining. Due to the damage to the doors – they likely would not return due to safety concerns. The group was heading out the door when a shot rang out to the South – maybe 250 yards away. To their left, a biter who had been hiding around the corner of the house slumped to the ground – nearly headless. Ben and Greg looked – but could not find the assassin. Well, whoever this was, he was on their side!

Once home, Ben introduced the Kemps to Liz. Christian was upstairs asleep. Liz said his condition was getting worse – he was getting very ill. Sharon and the kids put their things away. Greg was helping Liz prepare the Kemps a solid supper when there was a crash sound from upstairs. Going up to investigate, Ben had just opened the door when he was pounced on by a Biter who had been lurking in the darkness…

tagged

I might be able to crank out chapter 5 this weekend. Anybody wanna read it???

I check daily.

Yes put it up, you have a good story here.

Chapter 5 – Newcomers

Nashville, TN

Everything happened so quickly, it took Ben a moment to register everything. The Biter had attacked him. But it was no Biter – it was his best friend’s son, Christian. But why had Christian attacked him? His eyes had a slight purple tint to them. The breath was horrid. The skin had a slight green-grey hue. His best friend’s son – only son – had tried to bite him. Ben was fast, and avoided the attacks. Liz had heard the commotion and moved in to grab the boy in an effort to intervene. She suffered several scrapes and cuts for her efforts as she was knocked to the ground.

Then things got interesting. Christian, the Biter, turned back toward Ben. Ben was on his feet and preparing to move. Nobody had time to figure out what to do. Greg was in the process of rushing toward his son. He would tackle the boy, Greg thought. Then the window broke and the sound of a gun rang true. Ben saw Christian stumble, hit though the lower chest. A second shot rang out and Christian was down. He would not get back up. Greg and Liz rushed to the fallen child. Ben looked out the window – which now sported two bullet holes and the cracks that go along with such an action.

“Stay here!” Ben shouted. He didn’t need to say a word, though, Greg and Liz were not going anywhere. The couple were trying in vain to keep their boy from dying. But he was already dead. Ben rushed out into the night to find this mysterious assailant. He had only his pistol. Scanning the area, looking for any movement, Ben felt his senses heightening. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

A movement – from inside a nearby window. Ben darted in that direction – keeping his focus on the window. Another movement was there, this time there was no mistaking it. Ben picked up the pace… he was in full stride now. Closing fast, he saw a flash of light come from inside the house. He was nearing the side of the house. He would have to circle to the far side to get to the front door, but at his current pace that would only take five seconds.

Four.

Three.

Two.

He was home-free! Just as he reached the door, it slammed open, and a shadowy figure burst forth. In his haste to stop himself, Ben accidentally lost his footing and hit the porch – hard. No time to waste, he thought. Ben got to his feet. He noted his entire right side ached and something inside told him that his right knee would really start hurting in a minute. Speed. Acceleration. Ben was actually faster than the assassin, and he was gaining on him. Ben collected his thoughts. This assassin was not necessarily an enemy – he hadn’t actually shot at them – only at the Biters. Even though he could have easily aimed and fired, Ben decided not to shoot at the man.

Gaining on the assailant, Ben readied himself for the tackle. Just as he was about to drop his weight and dive for the legs, the assassin turned right sharply. Ben overshot is target. This assassin was fast – smaller than Ben and more maneuverable. Ben had an obvious size and strength advantage, and he was faster in a straight line. The assassin had realized this, and decided to use his small size to his advantage in this case. Ben realized the change in tactics, and realized that he would have to change his objective. It would become terribly difficult to follow. Ben could try to anticipate a turn and dive – but that would be too risky; for if he miscalculated, then the assassin would gain more distance.

Corner him. That’s what Ben would have to do. And prepare for the struggle. Then the mistake was made. The assassin started right and really turned left. Ben saw right away that the assassin was headed for another house – this one with several parked cars Ben could use. Veering out slightly to the left, Ben forced the assassin to run directly for the parked cars. The trap was sprung and the assassin realized it too late. As they neared the cars, the assassin tried to jump onto the hood and slide across the front of the car. Ben’s jump would be more powerful and the result became obvious. Ben grabbed the assassin mid leap. They hit the hood of the car together and slid to the far side.

Ben was only a Blue Belt in jiu-jitsu. That would be good enough tonight. The assassin hit the ground on his side. Ben never let go the hold around the waist. Ben instinctively rolled to his knees to establish the dominant position. The assassin surprisingly rolled to his back and started moving his hips out to the side to establish a guard position form the bottom. Ben recognized this immediately and grabbed his opponent’s pants at the knees. He pinned the knees to the grass below and circled with his legs outstretched. He would move to the side and secure the dominant position.

The assassin then turned his back – big mistake. He must not have trained long in jiu-jitsu, Ben thought. This was a beginner’s mistake. Nobody who had practiced jiu-jitsu for even six months would make that mistake. Ben immediately took his opponent’s back and used his feet to “put the hooks in” – jiu-jitsu term for locking the feet against the upper thigh of the opponent for the purpose of maintaining the position. With the “hooks in” Ben would not be easily dislodged. The assassin rolled to a sitting position and Ben instinctively wrapped his left arm under the assassin’s left arm and onto the chest and wrapped his right arm over the assassin’s right shoulder and completed the hugging motion. This secured his position even more.

The assassin tried hitting at Ben’s legs with his fists. Another rookie error! Ben immediately snaked his right arm around the throat and the left arm came in for support and bent behind the head. The noose was formed and was quickly constricting. The rear choke was being applied. Three seconds passed and the assassin was out like a light. Knocked unconscious without a single blow, Ben thought.

“Now let’s get a look at who you are.” Ben said – mostly to himself. He removed the camouflage head net. Blonde hair went everywhere. Beautiful blonde hair. “Uh-oh,” Was the only response Ben could think of. Was this true? Ben rolled the assassin over. He was a SHE! This assassin had been no man. That’s why Ben was so much faster and stronger. Whoever she was, this assassin was excellent with a gun and even had some good basic unarmed combat training. She had a pretty good head on her shoulders. She had a pretty head on her shoulders, Ben noted. Thinking quickly, Ben realized there was only one thing to do… take her back to the house.


Cape Girardeau, MO

It was nearly midnight. Savannah had been on the road for over 8 hours. She had seen only two cars all day! She had been walking for another few hours. The rental car had run out of gas. Savannah hadn’t forgotten to fill it. Just outside of St. Louis, she’d tried to fill up. But the electricity was out and the pumps were not working. She decided to drive the car as long as she could and then try to get another as soon as she could after the rental ran out of gas. Now she realized she should have driven the car to find the next car. A mistake she would not repeat. But it was too late now.

Savannah had approached the car dealership carefully so as to avoid detection. It was devoid of human life. It was devoid of undead life, as well. She moved cautiously to the used cars – they were more likely to have gas in the tanks. New cars rarely did, she thought. She realized she would have to get a key, first. That would prove tricky. She checked the door on the side of the building, but it was locked. No matter – it was almost all glass. Savannah broke the glass with the butt of her rifle. Moving cautiously from shadow to shadow, Savannah made her way to what looked like the sales manager’s office.

Inside, Savannah found the keys behind a tall cubicle wall. They were all hung up on rows and columns of key hooks. There were even labels for the new and old cars. This was a Ford dealership and she caught sight of something that spoke to her – the Mustang keys! She took several. Maybe one of them had some gas in it. Sneaking her way back out, using the shadows the whole way, Savannah felt a rush. She was about to drive a car she had wanted for some time. Flipping through the keys, she found the one that opened a nice yellow GT. Hoping against hope, Savannah put the key in the ignition.

A roar of the engine later, Savannah was shocked. The gas tank was full! A glimpse in the rear view mirror caught her eye. She turned and read the sales advertisement in the form of a large banner:

“Free tank of gas with every new car purchase!”

“Sweet!” She said to herself. Savannah was as giddy as a schoolgirl. She had every right to be. She drove to a nearby hotel. She had to stop for the night – she’d had a long day and it would not be safe to drive in that condition. She still had a good four to five hours of regular interstate speeds to get home. That would be better accomplished with a good night’s sleep. Finding a major brand she was familiar with, Savannah pulled up. Naturally there was nobody there. There were few people left anywhere. Fortunately the door was not locked.

Savannah realized that with the electricity out, the power operated locks would be useless to the hotel rooms. That would make getting in easy. However, that same fact made it unsafe due to the fact that the door couldn’t be locked to keep out intruders. She would figure something out, Savannah thought. “First order – let’s see where we are going.” Savannah mumbled. She took out her flashlight. She figured an upper floor would have both a tactical advantage and it would be less likely to have Biters. In the event of an emergency exit, she did not want to be too high up. She decided a second floor room would not only be unlikely to be disturbed by regular people, but she could jump out if need be.

Making her way up the stairs, Savannah really started to feel the aches of the day. She had been on foot for most of the last three hours. The backpack was heavy and that was not helped by the fact that she had already been tired when she first set out on foot. Going down the hallway, she settled on room 209. It was in the middle. She entered the room and looked at the door locking mechanisms. It had the metal latch that folded over a knob. That would likely work. She also turned the inside handle lock. That should keep out the Biters. A determined living human could still get in, but not without waking her in the process. After removing her boots and pack, Savannah stretched out on the bed. She was out in seven seconds.


October 7, 2008 - Nashville, TN

Greg sat on the ground. He held his favorite fishing rod in his hands. His bobber sat almost motionless in the water about 15 feet away from the shore. His gaze went past the water – past time and space as we know it. This was how Greg escaped life. Unfortunately, the life he knew held no escape.

Greg had grieved until the early hours of the morning. Liz, his wife and life companion, had done so as well – finally nodding off around 3 am. They had lost Christian. Their only son had been taken by this madness. At first they had been angry with Sarah. Poor Sarah had endured all of their harsh words. A part of her had felt she deserved it. Then, Greg and Liz moved past anger into the realization that Sarah, acting as an assassin to these biting monsters, had saved them all from this horrible outbreak.

Greg’s bobber danced. Then it dipped. Then it was gone. Instinctively, Greg set the hook and began reeling in his prize. A Bluegill, some six inches or so. Not the largest fish, but certainly large enough for the pan. Greg unhooked the fish and dropped it into his wire basket that lay submerged in the shallow water. This was the third he’d caught. Another worm on the hook and a short cast. Greg’s tears began to flow again.

At the house, Liz was in her room crying. Her son’s body lay in state out in the garage. The decision would be agreed on by everybody before lunch – all of the dead should be burned so as not to attract the undead. They had noticed the biters’ collective tendencies, as well as their tendencies to scavenge for carrion of any sort. Sure, they would kill to get a meal, but like any good hunters they would take the easiest meal if possible.

Sarah had been awakened by the crying. Ben had as well. The two of them busied themselves with other tasks. Primary responsibilities were defensive lookout and making sure everybody was fed. Sharon had taken the onus to begin breakfast, so Sarah kept close to Ben and helped with the weapons and other tactical operations. The boys were still asleep. It would be best if they could stay that way for a few more hours.

The bobber dipped under the water again. This time the worm-hungry culprit had been a small bass. Greg had released it instinctively before he had realized there were really no laws any more to encourage him to release it. Other than the Kemp’s, none of them had seen another uninfected human since Saturday. It was now Tuesday. The power was off. Phones did not work. Nothing on the radio. No cars passing by. Large herds of Biters here and there were all that remained.

Greg would bring home the handful of fish he caught. He cleaned them and had the filets ready by 10 am. Liz had been on edge all morning. Her grief coupled with her bossy nature had come together in a none-too-pleasant way that had the effect of clearing a room by her mere presence. The Kemp’s tried to remain unnoticed. Sharon had attempted to console Liz, but to no avail. Surely Sharon had felt the same sort of grief, having just lost her husband, but she was made of sterner stuff.


Cape Girardeau, MO
Savannah had slept far longer than she had wanted to, but it was good. She was well rested. Just before noon, she had awakened to the sound of a dozen zombies rummaging through the trash bin – which was located outside, but still close to her window. As Savannah looked on, she noted how these undead did not rummage like the poor homeless person that might have on any other given day. No, they rummaged more like a cat on the prowl. A sniff here, a cautious defensive turn there.

Savannah checked the shower to find a pleasant surprise – running water. There was no hot water, but that would be OK. Just the shower would be welcome. After finishing, she was cautious as she dressed. All camouflage today. She also put the ghillie suit on the top in her backpack. Fresh water in the backpack’s bladder. A granola bar for a makeshift breakfast. Soon, she was ready. Securing the keys, Savannah carefully opened the door without a sound.

The hallway was clear. Likewise, she cautiously made her way down the stairs without a noise – her hunting rifle held in front of her in a ready position. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a good tactical rifle. Sure, the .270 was plenty powerful, but its arrangement was better suited for an accurate single shot at long range than for quick multiple shots up close. The bolt action was sure, but very slow. Savannah determined that stealth and surprise should always be on her side. Still, she’d be more secure if she had a good large-caliber side arm at the very least.

Coming up to the side door – on the opposite end of the building from where the garbage bin was located – Savannah mentally prepared herself for the eventuality of a confrontation with the Biters. She would do best to just quickly get to her borrowed car and go. There was, however, no guarantee that the path to the car would be clear. She scanned the visible area – no zombies. There was a large blind spot caused by the stone stairway support. It was about three feet wide. Savannah would have to take care that there were none directly behind it, either up close or at a short distance.

Today was not an entirely lucky day. Right behind the stone wall was a Biter. He’d been a tall man in life – well over six feet and he also looked to be of a strong build. That strong build was tested by a 150 grain soft-point bullet traveling nearly 3000 feet per second. The bullet won this round. Savannah had placed the shot right in the center of the man’s chest. Had she looked for the exit wound, she would have been proud to see that the spine had been hit along with the heart and lungs. Death was instant for this undead. But there was a bigger problem…

The loud shot had called attention to Savannah from the other Biters over near the dumpster. That was some 45 to 50 feet away, but it was the only way out for Savannah. She got in the car quickly. It started without problem. A quick count showed fourteen undead in all. They were all headed in her direction. Like the lions of Africa, they spread out to encircle their prey. Savannah was cornered and forced to make a split-second decision. She decided.

The yellow mustang violently erupted into action. It peeled out and headed slightly to the left, aiming between two of the smaller Biters. The predators began to close. The gap narrowed and Savannah was forced to hit one of the Biters head-on. The result was a very dead female biter and a very crushed front end for Savannah’s car. She roared out of the parking lot. The car lot across the way from where Savannah had secured this car was now playing hunting ground for another four zombies. She would just have to see how far she could get in this ride.


******
“Granddad, kids, lunch is ready!” Kyle’s mom called out.
“Granddad, can you keep telling us the story through lunch?” Calista asked.
“Sure I can. I’ll just have to tell you the story a little different so you won’t get an upset stomach.” Granddad said.
The group went to the kitchen and sat down to some peanut butter sandwiches. Washed down with lemonade, they were some of the best on earth, Granddad maintained. He should know. He had once been without. He had been around Before. He appreciated what they had. He knew how hard he had been forced to work to get things back that way.
******

Dyersburg, TN
Savannah’s car had been more heavily damaged than she’d figured. The radiator was all but destroyed and the oil pan had been partially pulled off when she had run over the poor Biter. No oil and no cooling system had not lasted long, But Savannah had made it work as long as she could. She crossed the Mississippi river. For that she was glad. The rest she could do on foot. A car would be better and so she would look for one, on the main highways. She planned to take highway 412 to Jackson, TN and then I-40 back to the Nashville area. In a car she could make this trip in less than three hours as it was only about 160 miles. On foot that might take two weeks. Maybe more, depending on resistance…


Nashville, TN
Ben was at a loss. He could not reach his wife on the cell phones. Power was out. No radio. No nothing. They had cremated the dead mid afternoon. This had been done at an abandoned house down a side street in their neighborhood. The Kemp’s, Sarah, and Ben had cleared the house of any useful item – food, weaponry, etc. prior to the selection of the mostly wooden house. It had been difficult to load all of the dead they could find – Biter and uninfected alike – into the house. Christian had been a part of that group. Sarah had been the one brave enough to light the torch. Ben said a prayer. All bowed their heads.

By late afternoon, a discussion was in order. Greg and Liz had forgiven Sarah. She had done what was right. They could see that now. They did not like it, but then what was to like about any sort of death? All in the household agreed on the basics – food and protection. Food was going to be another discussion – they had enough for at least two more weeks. Protection, however, was the main topic. None of them would last a single day without protection. And the fact became clear that the best defense could be had in a good offense.

“We all know that these Biters are attracted to carrion. They exhibit no reasoning ability beyond that of any other predatory animal. I say we set a trap. Have an area that we bait with meat. When they congregate there, we lay waste to them all. Firing squad style.” Ben suggested. He had spent the better part of the morning working this out in his head.

“Where?” Greg asked. “It should not be too close to here, for safety’s sake. Yet it should not be too far away, either – for simplicity’s sake”

“And we still need to make sure our neighborhood – this subdivision – is clear. That’s the most immediate safety need.” Sarah was showing wisdom and the ability to think. All of the older adults were impressed by this 18 year-old and her skills – both mentally and physically.

“What if more Biters come from nearby areas?” Derek asked. It was a valid point.

“Look, we can take care of all of that by this task. I say we set the trap. Tonight we execute it. Tomorrow, we go door to door and mark all visited houses in the neighborhood. Those that cannot be secured because their doors are broken get burned. We team up with all survivors we can. Then, we can do the same with other neighborhoods. Eventually, we may find enough people so that we can delegate responsibilities. In the mean time, this will rid us of our problems and give us something to do. Either way, it is a solution.” Ben stated.

The vote was unanimous except for Liz. She did not know exactly what she wanted, but this was not it. However, when prodded, she could not provide an example of what she would rather do, so it was decided. Greg, Ben, and Sarah would do the work. Sharon and Liz would stay home with Nathan and Derek.

Sarah selected a house near the middle of the subdivision. It was a good choice. It had a high back yard to serve as a catch for any stray bullets. The back yard was fenced, providing additional safety for them as well as the fact that it would keep the biters contained. Also, the house had no functioning doors. So when they burned it, it would not be wasted.

It took until 6 pm to clear the house of essentials and prep it for burning. Greg had thought to retain all salvageable clothing – since they might need it later. Alternately, it could be used for barter, or to make other items. It was possible that if other survivors were found, they might need clothes as well. The more they collected, the more likely they could help.

Greg had gathered up several animal carcasses from nearby roads. He used a pickup truck from a now dead neighbor to tote them – a deer, three opossum, and a muskrat were all he could find before dark. He used a sharp knife to open them up so as to attract the Biters. He arranged them in a pile in the back yard of the selected house.

Sarah and Ben had made sure to open the gate and set up several objects to be used as cover for the operation on the outside of the fence. A few more last minute preparations and the trap would be set. They would go back home and wait until about midnight to come back. Using the dark, camouflage clothing, and the tables, bushes, and other objects around the fence as cover, the trio would have a huge advantage. The natural layout of the land prevented them from being able to have any cross-fire problems. And they would use walkie-talkies to communicate.

Supper was good. There was a somber atmosphere, for all in the house knew what would happen. After supper, they met in the living room and said a prayer for those undead who would die tonight. They had been people before all of this had happened. They deserved as much. It was also decided that after the deed was done, then they should wait until morning to burn them along with the house. They did not want to attract too much attention from any uninfected people who might have taken to preying on other people. Also, it was a chance to possibly take out even more undead.

Midnight came. Sarah, Ben, and Greg were prepared and made their way to the selected location. To their surprise, there were over fifty Biters present! They had all expected a “healthy” turnout, but this was twice what they’d hoped for.

Without noise, Greg closed the gate and secured it. The trio moved into their prearranged positions. Greg was to the right, behind a large folding table they had turned up on one end. Sarah took refuge in a tree close to the house. Her height from the perch gave her a good view to help give strategic advice to the men as they carried out their mission. Ben took the left side of the house. It had the largest fence area. He would be hard pressed to defend it all, but that was another reason Sarah had the “sniper” position; she could help Ben without worry of crossfire or accidentally shooting in Ben’s direction.

The signal came and Greg had his chance to take out his frustration. His AR15 rang again and again. Many he took down with single shots. Some took two. A particularly large Biter took three shots – the last in the head so Greg could be sure he would not get up. As planned, Greg started on the far right and worked his way to the middle. This was shooting fish in a barrel. This was a good release for Greg.

Ben became extremely focused as he gave the signal. Taking his aim on he first Biter – to the far left – he made sure to take his time and breathe between shots. They could not fire back. They would, however, attack the fence. But it was too easy.  Ben’s AR15 had the tactical sights. The little holographic laser could acquire targets as fast as his eye could. Point. Fire. Point. Fire. He was taking down biters faster than Greg, but nobody noticed, because speed didn’t matter. Only precision and results.

Sarah was in her element. From a young age, her father had taught her to inhale, then align the sights, then slowly exhale 1/3 of her breath, then gently squeeze the trigger. Her Mini-14 with a 3-9 power scope made things easy as well. Shot after shot, she was taking down the Biters. They had taken her Aunt, with whom she’d been staying the past few weeks. She would take them. Her inward rage moved her from target to target with binding speed and remarkable accuracy. She was mad at her mother, who had died two weeks before from a drug overdose. She was mad at her father who lived so far away now. She was mad at life for dealing her this horrible fate. But she would conquer.

Within moments the Biters were destroyed. Greg reopened the gate. The trap was there again. They would come back tomorrow. Perhaps they would be as successful again.

Keep up the good work!! And do not hesitate to post a couple of paragraphs at a time.

AKASL

LIVE FREE OR DIE

Great story please continue!!!

Yes , please continue

Thanks for the favorable input. I didn't know if anybody was enjoying the story. I know I enjoy writing it.

I'll have chapter 6 ready by the end of next week at the latest. Perhaps sooner, time permitting.

I would post a few paragraphs at a time - but I rewrite so much that it would be difficult.

Honest feedback - have I included too much martial arts? I know this is a gun forum. I love both the unarmed and the armed combat arts - but I feel more knowledgeable with the unarmed (which would NOT be ideal against zombies!) and traditional sword arts.

Any other feedback would be appreciated, too!

Usagi

I think it's good that not all of your characters are experts with firearms.  This kind of diversity is good.  I know people with black belts in Japanese swordsmanship and nunchaku, but not in karate.  No one should be the best at every discipline.  That would be too much to believe, even for fiction.  (James Bond and Walker, Texas Ranger excepted.      )

Great story. Keep up the good work.

New update coming this weekend. I hope to have a good twist and/or a good cliffhanger this time.

{Mister Burns}Excellent{Mister Burns}

Chapter 6 – Vital Information!

Saturday, October 11, 2008 – Nashville, TN
All were gathered around the table for the noon meal. The week had gone by too quickly. They had cleared the houses in the neighborhood. Ben, Greg, and Sarah had done away with most of the biters in the area. Liz had cried and cried. In the process, she had also become even more bossy and arrogant. The Kemp’s kept their place. They knew, Sharon especially, that their chances of survival were slim without the rest of the group. Sharon made sure her boys understood this so as not to upset anyone who might throw them out.

Ben had established himself as the group leader and Greg as his lieutenant, despite Liz’ constant harassment about this could be done better or that could be done differently. Everybody else listened to Ben and Greg – mostly because they were frequently right – but occasionally just to spite Liz.

They had no word from Savannah. Phones and power were a thing of the past. At this point, nobody could remember the last time they worked. Fortunately, the rain was now much more intermittent. The comet dust had settled almost entirely.

The group had found no human life other than the Biters in their sweep of the neighborhood. Over 300 houses were empty. They had recovered many firearms, ammunition, clothes, non-perishable food, and other similar items. Ben’s garage resembled an old hometown grocery, it had so many rows of food and other items. They had recovered a generator, which they used for electricity sparingly. Also salvaged was a work truck much like a UPS or Fed Ex delivery truck. It had the cab, with two seats, and an open rear area. There were shelves on either side wall in the back.

Lunch was going smoothly, when they heard a noise from outside. Greg was the first to look up. Sarah noticed the noise very soon after Greg. It was growing louder and louder. A distant low rumble, like an aircraft – but coming from the ground. The ground started to shake like an earthquake. Ben had a hunch, but needed to make sure. He grabbed his rifle and double-checked his side arm. Greg and Sarah followed suit. Sharon took the boys to the far side of the house. She had a rifle in the room, but she really did not want to have to use it.

Greg, Ben, and Sarah took tactical positions as they neared the top of the hill overlooking the main road that led past the subdivision. Using natural cover, as well as some of the houses near the opening to the neighborhood, they spaced out and prepared to observe. Ben really hoped this would not be trouble. They all did.

At the set signal, the three of them moved, behind cover, to positions that allowed them to look over the hill and onto the road – where the rumbling sound was coming from. The sight was magnificent to them all. Led by a tank, there were several military vehicles moving in a line toward the entrance of the subdivision. As they approached the entrance, all of the vehicles came to a stop. Several soldiers got out and shouldered their M4’s. Greg had seen what he needed to see.

Moving out of cover and toward the military group, Greg raised his arms overhead and began waving them, forming an angel outline. Greg yelled to the military men to get their attention. He got their attention. A half dozen soldiers immediately raised their weapons in Greg’s direction. Greg froze and called out to them, “I’m not infected. There are several of us here. We are safe. We have cleared this area!”

The military men kept their weapons trained on Greg. One spoke: “Keep your hands where we can see them. Any sudden move and we will open fire.” Greg thought about his rifle on his shoulder. Then he decided it was in his best interest to keep his hands away from it for now.

“I am not infected. You should know that from the fact that I can speak to you. What is your name?” Greg asked.

“I’m Sgt. Williams,” The Sergeant replied. “We are here to clear the area of the infected individuals and to scout for the living. It seems we’ve found some.”

Greg kept his hands up. “Have you had much success so far?”

“Not much. A survivor here and there, but not many. As of this morning, a total of fewer than 50 non military survivors had been found in the Nashville area.” The Sergeant noticed Greg’s hands in the air. He lowered his weapon, “this one is a friendly, boys. Wait up a minute and let’s see if he knows anything.”

The soldiers lowered their weapons. Greg was relieved to not be in the line of fire of a half-dozen weapons any more. Greg gave the prearranged signal of “all OK” and Sarah and Ben came out from their cover. This startled the Sergeant, but he quickly realized he should have expected it.


Jackson, TN
Savannah had made it this far on foot. Sticking mostly to the side of the road, so that she could be seen by any passing motorist, or quickly slip into the brush some 10 yards off the road if Biters showed up, she had managed to make decent time. She had been surprised to see no cars whatsoever on the highway. Survivors, if there were any, were not moving about. That might have been due to the fact that they were now menu items for the majority of what used to be the public.

Now it was time to think. Savannah could use a refresh in food supplies. She could use a good night’s sleep. She would like a radio so as to monitor any news broadcasts – assuming there was anybody left to broadcast. She could do with more ammo – there had been a few hundred biters meet their ultimate fate at the hands of her .270 in the past week. She could really use a vehicle of some sort. Shelter would also be good, in case she had to continue on foot at any point – the weather was really sporadic still after the meteor hit. It had rained at some point every day. Octobers in Tennessee rarely had more than a handful or rainy days in the whole month – particularly in the Western segment of the state.

Savannah was happy she was in Jackson. Everything she wanted would be within a few hundred yards of everything else. First stop was a sporting goods store. She was not surprised to find the doors open. She was surprised to find that not much had been taken. She quickly found a tent, food, fire-starters, glow-sticks, and ammo. This store also had quite the array of firearms. Savannah spent a good deal of time selecting a handgun. Glock 23 was the choice. She liked the .40 caliber as it matched Ben’s. She grabbed two of them. The rifle selection presented a problem… not in terms of a lack of selection, but in terms of too much selection. They had SKS models, AR models, Mini-14’s, even an M1 Garand replica.

Savannah eventually decided on an AR-15. She realized that if she came across any military, it would be easier to share ammo. Ben was also quite the AR fan, and as such, Savannah had become familiar enough with the weapon to feel comfortable having it as a primary weapon. Besides, she thought, the recoil was so much less than the .270 and that alone was worth the change. Savannah selected a flat-top model. A few aisles later, she had selected a holographic red-dot sight. She decided against telescopic sights at this time, since she had no intention of abandoning the .270. The only problem would be lugging all of the ammo – three calibers, now. Yet another reason to get a vehicle.

Savannah completed the shopping spree with the addition of appropriate holsters  and magazine additions for each of the weapons. She could tell the difference in weight carrying the two rifles, two pistols, and additional ammo. She decided to get a hotel room. This would allow her to lighten the load as well as having a base from which to operate. And the next operation needed to be a vehicle. There were various ones here and there. But keeping out of sight of the Biters would make the selection tricky. She realized she might also need a gasoline pump to get gas out of a station that was without power. This time, she thought, she would get a bigger vehicle – one that would not be easily damaged when it ran into the mutants. A truck of some sort would be ideal.

After a quick “check-in” at the local Holiday Inn, Savannah decided to go car shopping. From her 4th story window, she could see the path to where most of the abandoned vehicles were located. There were several trucks thereabouts. Just across the interstate was a car dealership that had several good options… and many Biters. That would be the best bet, if she could lure the predators away from there. Just then, a solution came to her!

Savannah moved quickly and quietly. She carried the AR-15 and a single Glock. She only had as much ammo as her magazines would carry – she needed to avoid an extended firefight. The bridge across the interstate had a high wall, so staying out of sight was easy. She made her way across an entrance ramp and over to an abandoned chain restaurant. The door was locked, but no match for a swift kick. She made sure to close it and secure it behind her.

Once inside, Savannah swept the area. No Biters in here. Using the light of a couple of her glow sticks, she went to work… raiding the refrigerators of their now rotting meat. There was no electricity here, so the walk-in refrigerators had gradually heated up and nature took its course. The meat was rotting and very spoiled. Savannah knew these Biters would love that. She made sure to put some small amounts of the rotting flesh in a trail like pattern leading into the kitchen area. Sure, that area would only hold a few Biters – but the others would crowd in close and make the plan work.

Savannah threw the lever on the gas grill. With that, she moved out. Opening the front doors and propping them open, the trap was nearly set. One thing remained. Taking a bottle of very strong spirits, Savannah left a trail, leading out of the building. The parking lot melded into the parking lot of the nearby Wal-Mart. Savannah figured she could finish her shopping while the rank meat in the restaurant did its job.

Savannah found the doors open to the Wal-Mart. There was a problem. This was a Super Wal-Mart and therefore had an entire grocery section of formerly fresh food rotting on one side. Biters were everywhere. Savannah tried to stay to the opposite side and used shadows to move. Stealth was the best choice. She knew what she needed and it wouldn’t be much. A portable radio – the kind that joggers use, and batteries for it. This might just be useful enough to warrant the added risk. After securing her prize, she headed back out the same way she came in. That’s when it struck her! With some planning, she could get the Biters in here, too.

Savannah made her way around to the front of the building on the inside. The bakery was in the front. It used ovens. Ovens might well have a propane setup like the restaurant. It was worth a shot. And the shot turned out successful. The ovens did not use propane, but one of the grills did. The switch was thrown and Savannah carefully made her way back out, making a small trail of gunpowder – using the can of it she’d kept from the sporting goods section earlier. A cigarette lighter at the checkout register was all that was left for her to get as she made her way out.

The trail of gunpowder was laid almost to the halfway point from the Wal-Mart to the restaurant – right up to the point where Savannah had stopped pouring the alcohol out. There were many Biters at the restaurant now. Savannah carefully lit the trail. The flame rolled up the hill and into the restaurant as planned. But, the gunpowder was actually lit, as well! This was not good because not enough gas could have leaked out in there, yet – it had only been a couple of minutes!

The restaurant rocked with the explosion. Chunks of wood, metal, glass, and Biter went everywhere. Just then, flames started pouring out of the Wal-Mart. Biters were moaning from inside. They were certainly moving away from the flames. However, they were trapped in the building. Savannah realized she had little time to admire her handiwork. If she wanted the truck, she would have to move now.
Nashville, TN

Sergeant Williams was finishing up briefing Greg, Ben, and the others. All around wore very serious expressions. It was hard not to. According to best estimates, less than 1% of the population was still alive and not infected. Anyone who was immune to the airborne strain of the virus was still susceptible to be infected through direct fluid transfer. That was the bad news. It got worse.

Washington, DC had collapsed. Not literally building by building, but figuratively – person by person. The president, VP, and those in direct line were all dead. Most by airborne infection. The rest by the efforts of the transformed. The virus had swept through the Senate and Congress like wildfire. There were still a few congressmen here and there, and a Senator or two – but no semblance of government remained.

The top Pentagon Brass had issued the declaration of Martial Law. Since all survivors would be predictably fighting together against the common enemy, the Militia had been called to active duty. Sgt. Williams explained that this, according to the remaining Generals and Admirals, would include every living person not in the regular military. Because of the common threat, it would be necessary to have a chain of command so that objectives could be more easily accomplished. Added to that was the fact that there was a severely reduced population.

Regional governments would be recognized. All of them would be incorporated into the Militia. Field ranks for militia would follow standard US Army ranking. Former members of government, LEO’s, and other civic leaders of note would naturally be granted higher ranks. Due to their operations, experience, and primarily their success, Ben was granted a field commission of Captain and Greg was named a Lieutenant for the Tennessee Militia. They would lead efforts to train militia members as well as lead them into combat. Organized combat with the US Military. Their objective would be to clean up the state – city by city and town by town – eradication of the infected Biters was of the utmost importance. It was the only way the human race would survive.

But most importantly, Sgt. Williams advised them that a vaccine had been developed. It would be shipped to the Nashville area within the next week. It protected those who remained unchanged from the airborne strain from being infected by bodily fluid contact. In other words, a person vaccinated could only be killed by the Biters, and not be changed into one.

After taking in all of the information, Ben and Greg gathered all of the rest together. The entire group was going to the base set up by the Army just outside of downtown Nashville. That was where the survivors were congregating. There would be food, shelter, and people… people that did not want to take a bite out of you! They all brought their weapons (except for the children) and several changes of clothes.

At the base camp, which was really just a large borrowed hotel, each person was assigned their own room. Greg and Liz shared a room, as did Sharon, Nathan, and Derek. Ben had his own room – but it was situated between Greg’s room and Sharon’s room. Sarah’s room was only two doors down. It did not take long for the group to get their things into the rooms. Things were Spartan, but that is how things would be for a while. They needed the structure the Tennessee Militia would bring. They also were thankful for food and protection. The hotel had electricity for eight hours per day, thanks to a generator provided by the Army.

As soon as they were settled – which was no more than 45 minutes from when they had left their homes – Greg, Ben, Liz, Sharon, and Sarah were asked to meet up in the conference room. What they saw amazed them. There were survivors – about thirty of them. Sergeant Williams was addressing the group: “Greg, Ben, you are just in time. I was about to tell these Militia members all about their new leaders, but you can do it yourselves!”

All eyes in the room shifted to Greg, Ben, and their group. Sharon, Sarah, and Liz slinked away to some of the empty seats in the rear. “What do you mean, Sergeant?” Greg asked.

“Lieutenant, would you and the Captain please come to the front and introduce yourself. Tell us all a little about you. Who were you BEFORE all of this stuff happened? What have you done to survive since then? These are your troops. They should know a little about their commanding officers.” Sgt. Williams stated, rather pointedly.

Ben was shocked. Commanding officer? Troops? These people were under his command? He did not feel like a leader at that point. He felt more like he needed to throw up. Greg was similarly uncomfortable, but internally. His external was solid as a rock. He had always been that way. Therefore, Greg spoke first.

“Thank you Sergeant. At ease.” Greg realized Sgt. Williams had been saluting him the entire time. Greg, the former marketing rep, came by public speaking very easily. It had been his job, more or less. “My name is Greg Clark. This is my best friend Ben Hill. We have been virtually by ourselves since the outset of all of this madness. Other than immediate family, we also have had the privilege of coming to know Mrs. Sharon Kemp and her sons,” Greg motioned in Sharon’s direction. “As well as Miss Sarah Adams. BEFORE all of this nonsense, I was a marketing rep.” A murmur started in the crowd.

“How is a blasted salesman supposed to lead us? Can’t the military do better than that?” Said a large, middle-aged man in the left segment of the room.

“The Army has enough to do with search and rescue of civilians. This is our prime directive right now. We must find out who is alive and rescue them.” Sgt.  Williams was quick to retort.

“Sergeant, can the Army spare us a few men and women to help us train the militia?” Ben asked directly.

“That could probably be arranged. I’ll need to get Colonel Miller’s approval, but I don’t think he will have a problem with that. What do you have in mind?” Replied the Sergeant.

“The way I see it, we have two equal priorities in order to survive. First, is the rescue of any other survivors. The more of us there are, the safer we are.” Ben stated. “Second is the eradication of our enemy. They must be hunted down. The threat is too great to just hide. We must take the offensive.”

“We will need to get the Militia trained as quickly as possible to do either task.” Greg added. He saw where Ben was taking this one. “If we start the Militia out on the ambush of trapped Biters, they could be in action in as little as a week. It is a simple enough operation. As we progress and continue to train, we could have these Militiamen ready for more tactical operations within a few weeks.”

“How so? This sounds complicated.” Sgt. Williams was obviously skeptical.

“Sir, we eradicated several hundred in the past week with just three of us. We are nothing special, but we may have stumbled across their inherent weaknesses.” Sarah piped up from the back. “I have shot over a hundred of them in the past week myself.”

The reaction from the room was complete silence. Few, if any of these survivors had actually seen combat. Most of them had fled the onslaughts. Many had hidden. They had survived by flight – not by fight! A somewhat frail looking woman in her sixties spoke to this effect what was on most minds: “But how can we fight these monsters!?”

“Training, planning and execution. We have the advantage of intelligence and better weaponry.” Greg explained. “If we determine the place and time of the fighting, this will give us every advantage that any military commander could ever hope for!”

“We won’t fight unless we are prepared and unless we determine the place and time. If at any point we have to engage when we have not determined the place and time, we will engage to retreat. We will not be able to sustain casualties of any sort. Every person in this room will be vital to that end.” Ben explained.

“How do you figure to get us trained so quickly?” The middle aged man who spoke before asked.

“Fairly simple: we will take those of you who have experience with firearms for this first mission. Ben, Sarah, and I know how to attract many of the Biters to a single location. It will be like shooting fish in a barrel. Once the rest of you learn the tactics and get up to speed on how to use a weapon, we can expand to larger traps. Eventually, we will have all of you on par with our boys and girls over there in the regular Army with regards to tactics. Then things will really start to get almost easy.” Greg had them now. He was motivating. This was Greg at his best.

The motivated Militiamen had no problem going out to the courtyard area to be divided into those with weapons experience and those without. Target practice began. Greg and Ben had decided to break training up into three broad categories: handgun, rifle, and body movement. This unique approach would allow the Militia members to acquire skills that were needed without burning out on any one topic. Later, Greg wanted to introduce physical fitness training – but that would likely come with the Army trainer. Eventually, Ben wanted to incorporate tactical training as well. But both he and Greg realized that would be a long way off. Fundamentals first.

Target practice was moving right along when there was a loud announcement from a lookout positioned in an upper hotel room – leaning out the window. There was a vehicle approaching – a van from the looks of it. Some of the soldiers had moved to motion down the van, but the driver had already seen the action in the hotel and pulled into the driveway. It was Savannah! Ben came running out, with Greg and Liz close behind. Ben and Savannah connected and embraced. Liz screamed out. Greg gave a loud hoot.

Liz screamed again, but this time Greg, Ben and Savannah realized it was not in joy… it was in terror! Liz was under attack by three biters who had been behind a large military transport vehicle. Ben and Greg both drew their side weapons – identical .40 caliber Glocks. Four shots rang out almost instantly. Four more came in quick succession. The Biters were down. So was Liz…

I like the story please keep it going.

Something is horribly wrong here...I'm out of story!!!  I just read this straight through...more more more!

Tag. Great story. Keep it coming!

Thanks for the nice comments. Please, keep stroking my ego! I should have the next chapter ready by the end of this wwekend.

Chapter 7 – Decisions & Preparations

Monday, October 13, 2008 – Nashville, TN

Greg Williams sat on the Bank of the Percy Priest Lake crying softly in the early morning sunlight. Liz had died mere moments after being captured and bitten by the biters. Army troops had responded with lightning fast precision to the attack. Really there had been no other choice in the matter. Greg did not blame the soldiers – but that did not lessen his pain. His beloved wife and son had died within the last week and it was weighing heavily on him.

Less than five miles away was the hotel that the US Army and the Tennessee Militia were stationed. Likely as not, Ben had the Militia doing some training exercises, Greg thought as he reeled his bobber in a few feet. Fishing – the one activity that could help Greg take his mind off of things. It was his peace and quiet. It was something other than fighting these monsters.

A snap of a twig.

Greg stood and spun in a single motion. With the years of practice, the drawing of his sword came nearly instantly. Almost as quickly, he lowered his guard. It was only Sarah.

“Hey, what’s up?” came the small voice.

“Just… reflecting.” Greg returned his sword to the scabbard and sat back down. Almost instinctively he reeled his bait in to check it – some little bait thief may have struck in his moment of distraction.

“You know, we have both lost our families because of this… situation.” Sarah had a tear streaking down her cheek as she sat down. “I understand what you must be feeling. It’s something I’ve had to deal with every day.

“Why haven’t I seen you all emotional like I am right now?” Greg asked.

“I usually was alone when I cried. I did not want to dump on the rest of you. You guys had enough on your plates already without having to deal with some emotional girl.”

“Just figures. A kid like you can control her emotions and I can’t. That is a weakness I will have to beat.” Greg stated.

“What you see as weakness, the rest of us see as strength. There’s nobody that could withstand what you’ve had to in the last ten days. The dead are lucky – they don’t have to go on living with the pain that you now know. But I think you knew that already. That’s why you only brought your sword here to defend yourself. You want to die and join your family don’t you?” Sarah was staring off at the bobber.

“I have to admit the thought crossed my mind.” Greg realized the wisdom that the young woman was showing. Well beyond her years.

“Go out in the blaze of glory. Sword flashing. Monsters attacking until you are completely overwhelmed. Was that the idea?” Sarah looked directly at Greg for the first time that morning.

“Not really. I was actually hoping to be unaware of the attack when it happened. I did want to die fighting – but not what you described. That would offer too many loopholes for me to escape or actually win.” Greg was starting to get that spark back. The conversation was good for him, he realized.

“Oh, you think you could win against the hordes of them?” Sarah was almost teasing him at this point.

“I have before. I can again. Plus, I have you here with me now. We would be unstoppable!” Greg had his attitude back now. He realized his grief had been warranted, but there had to come a time to move on. The look on Sarah’s face let him know that she realized this as well.

“Let’s go. Ben needs your help. Some of these guys and girls can’t shoot straight.”

“Ben’s a better shooter than I am. Heck you are better than me, too.” Greg said, but he knew where this conversation was going.

“Ben needs you. You are a better communicator. He has the ideas, you fill in the details. Plus, he needs to be with Savannah, too – and she needs him.” Sarah said.

“Yeah, just because I lost my family doesn’t mean he lost his.”

“You know, you have no family, I have no family. Let’s be family for each other for a while. I need somebody to pick up after me, anyways.” Sarah said with a playful smile. She was glad to have the old Greg back. Little did she know that this was just a ruse. Beneath the calm exterior of Greg was a nuclear furnace burning. His wife and son had been murdered by these mutants. He was a ticking time bomb.

Back at Hotel Headquarters, or HHQ as everybody was calling it now, Ben was indeed leading the Tennessee Militia (termed “TM” by some of the members) through some drills. They were going over and over on how to clear a jammed round from their M4’s. Savannah and a couple of other people were walking around, helping some of the others here or there as needed. Greg was helping here and there – but he rarely spoke. He wore his side arm as did most others, but he also wore his katana blade on his back.

Later in the afternoon, after the drills were done and the TM was on an hour break, Ben caught up with Greg in the armory area of the HHQ. “So how are you, Greg?”

“I’m fine.” Greg said it, but he didn’t mean it. Ben knew that.

“No you aren’t. You’re not fine by a long shot. You are normally outgoing, talkative and personable. But none of the militia would believe that right now. There are some who wonder why you are my Lieutenant.”

“Let ‘em wonder. Hell, let one of ‘em be your Lieutenant. I really don’t care anymore.”

“Yes you do, or you wouldn’t be here!” Ben snapped back. “You’d have gone off and faced a whole horde of these Biters by yourself. You have to vent. I know you.”

“You know, that’s not such a bad idea. It beats sitting around here all day.” Greg turned and walked out the door, with Ben in hot pursuit.

“Yeah, but don’t vent this way. Keep your cool. Shake it off. Let’s get focused, and train these new guys to help. Then we can take out all of the abominations you want to!” Ben yelled as Greg jogged toward the outside.

That stopped Greg in his tracks. “You really think that’s what it is all about?”

“Yeah, I do.” Ben said, looking at his friend eye-to-eye.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Greg said. That was partly true, but not altogether the case. Greg did want to take out his anger on these monstrosities. But it was the loss of his family that motivated him. It was just his rational side that knew he would do best to focus that anger in the right direction. Probably all of that martial arts training, he thought.

“Greg. You are angry. You’re hurt. And you have every right to give up on life right now. As your friend – as your brother – I’m asking you to keep your head. I have a job to do and that will be a lot easier with you on my side.” Ben was right. He was dead right.

“I can do that. Sorry for being such a head-case.” Greg said. He was still hurt. He was still mad. But it was in check… for the time.

Training resumed shortly afterwards. Greg was still somewhat of a shell, but he had some focus to him. Ben realized it might be a while before the old Greg was back. Sharon and Sarah noted the same fact.


Tuesday, October 14, 2008 – Nashville, TN

Training was now a major part of every day. The Tennessee Militia was putting a lot of time and effort into getting ready to take on the threat head-on. Ben was methodical about getting them all up to par on shooting, basic hand-to-hand combat, and tactical methods. It was not an all inclusive basic training as the Armed Services had been able to do with their recruits, but not all of those skills were necessary now. The common enemy was the Biters. There were not many people left on Earth. Few, if any of them would waste time trying to attack their fellow man – they couldn’t afford to anymore.

The occasional attack on HHQ by a wandering group of Biters was typical. Several times per day there was an attack. Usually no more than a dozen or so. Occasionally as few as two or three in a group. But they always traveled in groups. Larger groups were usually led by larger, more powerful males. They included a couple of younger or smaller males and at least twice as many females. If Biter children were encountered, it was in these larger groups.

Smaller groups of Biters were of tow types of composition. The first was younger males. Usually there were no more than three or four in these groups. The other was led by smaller, less dominant males. These often included older females or the females who had been less attractive in life. In a great while there was a single child, maybe two, in this type of group.

The weather was still unpredictable. Rain was unusually high. It rained most every day – often later in the day. The temperature was also much colder than usual. The typical October weather in Tennessee was dry and warm – often over 80 degrees during the day. Not this year. Rarely did the daytime high reach over 50 degrees. Many feared that winter would be rough. The Comet had done its damage on the climate to some extent.

The Tennessee Militia had also formalized some details. They had chosen, in a democratic fashion, to have a uniform attire. The camouflage they chose was that of a turkey hunter – the tree pattern would come in handy all year round. Those that would fight on the front lines had the older military model belts and shoulder straps. They carried a few magazines, a side arm, a knife, and a small portion of food and water on the belt. They never planned on being too far away from the military for extended time frames. Additionally, it had been determined that if contact was not established with military commanders at regular intervals, a strike force would be mobilized to extract the Militia personnel.

For a uniform weapon, the TM had chosen the AR15. Each person was encouraged to personalize his or her weapon, so there was far from a uniform look. However, the ammo and magazines would interchange with one another and with the military, and that was the most important part. Some members chose automatic variants, supplied by the Army – but many more followed the lead of Greg and Ben and selected semi-automatic versions.

Side arms were in use by all as well. Again, the TM followed their leaders and selected Glock models in the .40 caliber. Again, magazines and ammo would be interchangeable for the most part (some of the men had the larger pistols and they were well informed that some of the ladies’ smaller magazines would not fit!). Many people chose bowie knives, similar to Greg’s penchant for wearing a blade.

Hand-to-hand skills were limited, but an important part, as well. Greg stuck to the striking arts. Despite being a complete fan and adept at Jiu-jitsu, he realized that if one were to fight a Biter at that close range would be to guarantee death from a single bite. Nonetheless, a small Jiu-jitsu class had started in the early evening and it was well attended. Greg also put the militia through blade drills. The blade was simple enough against Biters since the only knowledge the militia members needed was offensive in nature. Biters did not use weapons and there was no need of learning to defend against knives, guns, or the like.

Tactical techniques were also limited in number. They trained in sweeping rooms and other areas that were to be entered and taken. Training centered around taking out groups of Biters – typically from a long range working to a close range. Sarah really stood out as one of the long range specialists, along with the hunting skills of Savannah, they were some of the key trainers in the sniping techniques. Ben made sure to train them in how to retreat while firing as well. Again, techniques were limited and simple, but so were their needs. They needed to be masters of a very few fighting tactics. The largest advantage the Biters had was sheer numbers. There were close to a million of them in the Nashville area if the nationwide statistics held true.

On a National level, the Federal Government had failed. Not many people were surprised by this or sad. The only sadness was the loss of life, but that was everywhere and unavoidable. The military kept order within their own ranks, as could be expected. However, those in charge of each branch had issued orders that local officials and leaders were in charge. There was no more “martial law” as there was no need. Everybody was fighting for the same outcome – survival. State militias had popped up everywhere, being formed where needed. Where militias had existed before, they were looked up to now for their leadership, knowledge, and the fact that they were needed.

Not many liberals were left. Make no mistake, a good number had survived, but many had abandoned anti-gun “values” as soon as their lives were threatened by former humans trying to make a lunch out of them. Although there had not been enough time to determine this yet, a good many of the “pro-choice” crowd had changed their viewpoint by necessity, too. The human race had just been decimated. There was going to be a need for more people. Besides, there weren’t too many of the doctors left to provide the “choice.” In addition to all of this, the welfare state had been completely wiped out. Now it was do or die. Unfortunately, most of those who had been dependant on the government to do for them had, in fact, died. Those who lived now were those who did for themselves.

The decision had been made to allow the TM to clear a neighborhood in similar fashion to how Ben and Greg had done. This would be done by week’s end. There were enough people who had prior training to make that possible. Not a few of the survivors had been, in life BEFORE, “gun nuts,” survivalists, ex-military, and others who had taken to planning for the worst. It was no surprise that this type had survived the worst of events. Many had not only survived – they could now thrive in this free environment.

If the Tennessee Militia cleared the neighborhood without incident, they had prearranged with the military to clear more and more neighborhoods. This way, they could eradicate the enemy and search for survivors at the same time. If the tactic proved effective, the military commanders had decided to adopt it, as well.

Later Tuesday afternoon, Greg slipped away while the TM was on break from their drills. He’d had the urge to go back to his house and remove the last of what he wanted. The thought of going there too many more times made him sick. Greg thought he’d slipped away unnoticed, but Sarah and Savannah had spotted him. They immediately went to Ben.

“Well. I can’t go after him, I have to start drills again in half an hour.” Ben noted.

“What if I went? That way Savannah could teach the sharp shooting class and not miss a beat.” Sarah suggested.

“Fine, but take someone with you. No need to go out alone.” Ben retorted.

“Who?” Sarah was completely unsure at this point.

“Take Sharon. She is level headed. Plus, her sons really like the drills and classes we run, so she won’t have to worry about baby-sitting arrangements. She would probably like the time away.” Savannah suggested.

“Good thinking, sweetie.” Ben started. “Take a vehicle with a CB, too, so you can report back… just in case. And be sure to go prepared. If word of this leaks to others, I want them to know that you went out in full garb, fully armed, and otherwise like we are telling these guys and girls to do. Besides, if you need the arms…”

“… We will have them. I know, I know.” Sarah responded. She could be so mature one minute, then the next she would show that she was still eighteen.

Sarah hustled to get her things together, while Savannah got Sharon and gave her the 30-second update. The two ladies quickly moved to a jeep that was for Militia use. Greg had pulled away just a moment prior and was headed toward the interstate. They had guessed where he was going. It was either the lake or to his house – and both were in the same general direction once they got on to I-40.

As they passed the exit for the lake, they saw several Biters just off the highway. There was, of course, no other traffic at all. However, both women remarked they had never seen the Biters that close to the interstate. Only Savannah’s stories had placed the zombies on a major thoroughfare. They exited and drove to Greg’s favorite fishing spot. Nothing. They drove to several others he tried from time to time. Nothing. He must have gone to his house.

When the ladies arrived at Greg’s house, the scene was unbelievable. Greg was there. So were about 20 Biters. They were coming at Greg like the predatory beings they were. Greg was in action, katana drawn. His rifle was on the ground along with his pistol. The look in Greg’s eye was that of pure rage. Never before had either woman seen him like that. But, never before had he wrestled with the death of everyone in his family.

The rain started. A solid rain, with big wet drops.

It seemed to Sarah and Sharon that they were moving in slow motion. In all actuality, it was rather quick. Sarah slammed the jeep into Park. Both reached back to the back seat for their AR’s. As if they were robots responding to the same wireless command, they both pulled back their charging handles. They stepped out into the rain. They could not shoot, as Greg was in the line of fire. So they swept left – to the high ground for an advantage.

*****
This is Sharon:

A week ago she had been your typical soccer mom. Sure, when she was young, her dad had taught her to shoot, fish, swim, and do for herself in general. In recent years, with her now deceased husband’s moves up the corporate ladder, she had grown more accustomed to having other do for her. No more. Something had clicked when that Comet hit. Something came out of her when her husband had been killed by the first wave of the zombie attack.

After the first wave of the zombies, he husband lay dead and three of the Biters as well. She had noted that their expressions – or lack thereof – along with their actions had made them seem nothing more than an outline of their previous selves. This eased the pain of having to kill them.

At first, she killed the Biters who had killed her husband with a knife. One kitchen knife was all that she needed. She flew into a rage – a controlled rage – and took three of them out without effort. Her sons had seen it all. Their expressions turned to fear and this had prompted her to hide in the bathroom with them. She feared them ever seeing her like that again. Not until they were older and could understand.

Now, she found herself in her element. The training, the ferocity. This was her. She almost enjoyed the thought of being able to kill more of the abominations. This was her job. It was protecting her offspring. It was in her essence. The mother’s instinct had kicked into overdrive. Sharon was, in her own way, now one with the Universe. She thanked her Creator for allowing her to switch it on and off as needed. She prayed for wisdom and discretion in the coming conflict.

Sharon had customized her AR to suit herself. It had a pink A2 butt-stock, handle, and fore grip. With a flat top and a 16 inch barrel, it was maneuverable and light. She had a 30 mm red dot optic on the top – no magnification. She was not good at a long distance, yet. But she could hit wit consistency inside of 75 yards.

*****

Sarah and Sharon were still moving to the left. If they didn’t hurry, however, there would not be anything left. Greg was hacking his way into the middle of the group of Biters. Greg had again found his inner peace – hacking away at zombies with a katana. He no longer had to think or feel – although rage was flowing through him. He sliced up ward diagonally, from right to left, opening up a zombie from hip to shoulder. His follow-up downswing built its momentum from the previous upward slash. He came down diagonally, left to right this time, but with the same result on a small male Biter.

Sarah found some cover. As she had been trained, she swept the area, particularly to what would be her 6 o’clock. She mover and raised the rifle, ready to strike. In a hushed voice, she told Sharon to cover her back. Sharon did not disagree, as she knew and would openly admit to anyone that Sarah was far better with a rifle. Sarah was better with a rifle than almost anybody they had met in the last few days – with the exception possibly of Savannah.


*****
This is Sarah:

Small, cute, and bubbly, Sarah is the all-American girl. She had been home for the weekend from her Freshman year in college. She would be 19 in a month. She had always been a quick study. She’d done Jiu-jitsu for a month before she had to stop due to a conflict of schedule. In that time she had progressed to be one of the better white belts in the class – despite the fact that she was not overly athletic.

Sarah had been trained by her mother from a young age to be comfortable around a rifle. This had led to her trying out for and being accepted to her University’s rifle team. The only problem was that it sometimes conflicted with her intramural coed softball games. She was really into everything.

The Comet hit and the subsequent outbreak had taken Sarah’s mother from her. She had not been there to see her mother catch the airborne virus. She only came home to the carnage. She had avoided her mother after realizing she was not in her right mind. She left the door open and hid upstairs. In a moment of clarity, she had procured her mini-14 and a ghillie suit (she’d used for coyote hunting only a few weeks ago) shortly after her mother walked out the front door. Over a dozen times, she’d had her mother in her sights, but was unable to do what was necessary. Finally, she had followed her mother to Greg’s house and watched – halfway in horror and halfway in relief – as Ben had killed her with several others in the onslaught. From that point, she had decided to single handedly take on this new menace. Using stealth and accuracy, she was going to make herself into a blond grim reaper of sorts.

Since meeting up with Greg and Ben and now the Tennessee Militia, Sarah had not only found safety and a place to belong. She had also found confidence. The TM needed her. It was good to be needed and wanted like that. To be part of something important. To be consistent. That’s what she had been needing.


       Sarah had an M4 type rifle with a 16” barrel. Outfitted with a 6-position butt-stock, it had the A2 carry handle, and a large hunting scope atop that, with peep-through capabilities for the iron sights. She preferred the Coyote brown furniture. In addition to a solid bipod, she also had a tactical flashlight on the front rails. The bipod was on the bottom, of course and the flashlight on the right side. She used the butt-stock on the smallest setting.



*****

Sarah never had a clean line of fire that did not risk Greg, so she kept to keeping any stragglers away from him. Besides, Greg was doing just fine without her. He’d mowed down more than half of the clan before Sarah and Sharon were even in place. Now, they were just covering him as he had his way with the remaining zombies. The release of the pent-up frustration was doing Greg a world of good. He was not even beginning to tire. The flashing steel was almost effortless for him.

A Biter to the left! Greg reversed his grip and turned to the right. A rear thrust opened up the mutant. Bringing the katana back up to jodan-no-kamae – the high guard used for offensive purposes – Greg was in the zone. A side slash from a quarter-roll of the blade separated a head form a body. Greg’s feet moved in complete harmony with his hips and hands. Never was he off-balance or over-extended. Yet never did he lack power with any slash, cut, or thrust.

Greg whirled around to face his house once more. Four more Biters were there, spreading out. The alpha-male in the middle was considerably taller than Greg – maybe 6’5” or so. Greg set himself into a forward fighting stance. His sword position was the hasso-no-kamae – an almost baseball bat position. The sword pointed straight up and was held about 10 inches form Greg’s ear. This posture is good for offense and defense, especially when facing multiple opponents from several angles.

A pause. Then motion from the single Biter on the right. Greg met him with a straight thrust, which had been a bit difficult to position in time due to the angle and distance. The result was a straight stab, through the neck. A flick to the right opened up more than half of the Biter’s neck. It slumped to the ground, gurgling. Greg turned and instinctively slashed form right to left. The blow hit home. The female Biter was opened up at about her navel. The stench was beginning to get to Greg, and her innards did not help things. Greg returned to a Waki-no-kamae – sword held horizontally at hip level, tip pointing to his 6 o’clock, and hands within six inches from his hip.

The Biters stood their ground, growling. Greg could see no more intent to attack, but they were not backing down, either. With a diagonal upward cut – intended to slice from the left hip to the right shoulder – Greg advanced at the follower. He would save the Alpha-male for last. The first slash missed, this Biter was quick. The second slash was horizontal and left to right. Again it missed. Greg allowed his blade to flow over and into a thrust to the heart level. It only hit superficially. Greg was advancing as fast as he could while remaining balanced, but the Biter was retreating too rapidly. Greg slashed right to left, horizontally at the neck level while leaning into this attack. The blow scored. The front half of the Biter’s neck was opened up. Greg kicked him down and thrusted under the chin into the skull. This one was done.

“Greg! Look out!” Sarah yelled.

Greg instinctively chambered and fired a back-kick, but hit way too soon. His leg had not even extended halfway. The force of his maligned kick forced him down to the front, and he rolled with it. In that time the Biter was on him and the sword was knocked form his hand…

Good Chapter!!

AKASL

LIVE FREE OR DIE

Awesome read,keep it coming !!!

great story! i'm enjoying it lots!

Originally Posted By Usagi: I might be able to crank out chapter 5 this weekend. Anybody wanna read it???

YES!   Very good story.

Thank you.

Next chapter by this weekend. That's the plan anyways. A cliffhanger?

Great story so far, keep it up!

Keep it coming!!!!!!!!

good story,keep it up!

Chapter 8 – Offense

Things had happened so quickly, yet to Greg they were in slow motion. Even his thoughts were approaching light-speed. He realized immediately that the Biter had been so close that his kick was ineffective. That’s why he rolled. During the forward roll, he had seen that the tip of his blade would be forced by the ground into his head, so he dropped it. When he came face-up, he realized he was disarmed… of his sword. He still had his Glock. In that same instant, he cast his eyes to the place from where Sarah’s voice had come. She was there, and had the zombie in her sights.

Greg had brought his hand up and yelled for her not to take the shot. This was his kill and he wanted it regardless of the cost. Sarah had reluctantly capitulated. She did not want Greg to be harmed, but she still had no clean shot – the angle was wrong. If she’d had the angle, she likely would have ignored Greg’s request.

Greg placed his right foot on the ground, knee pointing straight up. At the same moment, he put his left hand on the ground behind him – about a foot away from his behind. His left leg cocked, in anticipation of throwing a kick. The Biter advanced and the kick came. Greg connected at the knee. There was no definitive crunch, but he did feel that he had knocked the knee back straight, and that was plenty painful – so much so that the Biter had retreated a few steps.

Greg seized the opportunity. Using the momentum of his left leg returning from the kick, he threaded it through and under him, which brought his left foot to the ground and enabled him to stand in one smooth, practiced motion. Basic Jiu-jitsu learned at the white belt level. He’d done that move thousands of times. He was glad he finally got to use it.

From this point, collecting his sword was easy. Greg did so with speed, but without looking rushed. He was extremely focused. The nuclear furnace in his heart was on edge. But with the anger came his strength. He knew this was not a good way to operate long-term. But for the fight ahead it would more than suffice. He leveled his katana into mae-hasso-no-kamae – the posture of aggression. The handle was at his shoulder level, about 10 inches away. The tip of the sword was pointed toward his enemy. His right elbow was up in the air – a position that would have exposed his ribs had the sword not been right near them. The Biter lowered himself into a catlike position – curled to strike. Greg advanced evenly.

Then it all happened all-of-a-sudden.

The Biter lunged.

Greg lunged.

Sarah screamed.

Sharon hid her eyes.

The sword did not blink. Neither did Greg. The thrust landed in the midsection; too low to be fatal, but in the right spot to cause pain. The Biter abandoned his lunge and howled in pain. Greg threw a front thrust kick to the Biter’s chest – knocking the Biter to the ground on his rump. Greg stood over his opponent, the rage in his eyes flaring. He’d gone head to head with one of the largest, most powerful mutants that there was, and he’d won. It hadn’t even been close. His ego surged.

Greg faked a slash to the head and the Biter recoiled. The slash never came, but a boot did. Greg caught the mutant square on the side of the head. The blow sent the former person completely to the ground. Greg heard what sounded like a whimper. That fueled his anger. He kicked the beaten zombie in the ribs. This time he heard the crunch.

Another kick… this time to the head. Another crunch.

Sarah and Sharon were approaching quickly, but cautiously.

Greg was circling his wounded prey. This was not going to be swift, nor humane. He was in such a rage, he fully intended to execute this pitiful excuse for an opponent right here and right now – and he did not give a damn who saw him. His teeth were bared and his face taught with emotion.

In a smooth motion, Greg knelt very rapidly and used his downward momentum to hit the biter with his elbow. Another crunch. The Biter was moaning softly now. Life was slipping from him.

Greg stood and with a side kick, he pinned the Biter’s throat to the pavement.

Gurgling.

Twitching.

Nothing.

Emptiness. That is all Greg felt. The rage had nowhere to go, and nothing to feed it, so it fizzled from sight. But it did not leave entirely. It wrapped itself around Greg’s heart for later use. There would be another time.

Warmth. Not from within, but from without. Greg was being hugged. Both women were clinging to the bloodied and somewhat battered man. They were all three soaking from the rain. Sarah was crying softly. Greg had been so focused, he’d lost track of the weather – the time – even the place. Then he recognized he was in the street mere yards from his house.

Clarity. That’s what Greg’s mind was like now. He would retrieve his belongings and burn the house for finality. He needed this – to move on.



*****

This is Greg Clark:

A master of several styles of martial arts. But he feels he is only a beginner. In competition, he had found few equals and none better. Soon, competition had bored him. So he started to compete with himself. Always pushing, he never felt he measured up. His parents and siblings had always been supportive, but he was always hardest on himself.

He had always been OK with a firearm. Good, but not great. He always blamed his shortcomings to his inability to afford much ammo or his lack of time at the range. What he never realized is that all of the martial arts training was what lent itself to his success with the weapons. Had he ever pursued them full time, he would surely surpass anyone he knew.

Sales was his occupation. This was an art which he had to work at. Never the best, but rarely far behind, he often competed against others he knew he could not outperform. Not for the glamour, or recognition. Not even for the money or the love of the job. He competed on the job to test himself. He was always testing himself.

Greg was never given to overly emotional responses. Nobody but the closest of friends ever saw him get mad or lose his temper in any way. Always in control of himself was Greg. At least outwardly.

Inside, he was different. Inside, he was hard on himself. He feared much – especially failure. He worried about everything – especially things he had no control over. But these things never surfaced. There was no need for him to burden others with his shortcomings.

Around other people, Greg was sensitive to feelings. He never wished to hurt another’s feelings and he always tried to “read between the lines” in an effort to show his true compassion. Never having met a stranger, he truly cared for the mental and emotional well-being of his fellow man. That’s probably why he’d met and fell in love with Liz.

Liz had been very self-centered and self-absorbed. She needed the universe to revolve around her. She had plenty of upside – she was not mean, she helped when possible, and she liked Greg to have his fun and do what he enjoyed doing. However, Greg realized down deep that he would be better off in the long run now she was dead. And he hated that thought – however true it might have been. It went against his compassionate side. In his mind, it placed his need above that of someone else and he was comfortable with that. He was wrong, of course, but it would take a different person to show him that. All in due time…


*****

Sarah and Sharon helped Greg remove and pack his belongings into the SUV he’d driven to the neighborhood. They had convinced him to take one thing each that had belonged to Liz and to Christian and keep it. Sharon was really good at helping Greg through the emotional difficulty of it all. Just the fact that she had been going through the same ordeal herself at the same time was comforting to Greg.

When all of the possessions were out of the house, Greg set about dousing the lower level with gasoline. He would put an end to his attachment. Later, he could start a new life. He lit the match and turned, never to look again on the place he’d called home with his departed wife and son. He began the process inside of finishing this chapter of his life.

As he headed toward the SUV, he noted Sarah was in the driver’s seat.

“Let me drive this. Sharon will take you back.” Sarah said.

“OK. Just let me get one book” Greg replied. He retrieved his Iaido manual. It was his personal collection of the teachings of his instructor, as well as several others. It had taken years to compile it all, and he had eventually organized the material into Seven chapters. The first dealt with basics. The second through the sixth were organized by the oriental five element theory – earth, water, wind, fire, and void. The last chapter was on personal notes and observations, drills, and methods.

Greg threw the book into the back of the jeep that Sharon was driving. He got in and the two vehicles drove off. Sharon began talking away, as if she had all of these many things to say that had been penned up inside, and she finally had to let it out. Greg smiled and nodded at the appropriate times. Occasionally he would respond with a grunt, or a short one-word response. But his mind was elsewhere.

As Sharon rambled on, Greg looked back at his book. It was open to the chapter on the oriental philosophy of fire. Greg knew better than to take any of these philosophies as being religious, or anything like that. He knew that the objective was to classify things together with other things like them. It was just a different method of nomenclature, not a religious interjection. It was like the scientific method, from a somewhat abstract point of view, when compared to his own.

Fire. Things in a changing state – giving off energy. Boy, that described him as of late! He picked up the book and observed his notes and those of his instructor, and those of his instructor’s teachers. The fire state was offensive in the martial arts – attacks. Even defenses were attacks. Instead of blocking the oncoming sword, the fire method would have one cut off the hand holding the sword as it attacked.

The philosophy of fire was known as the individual taking control of his environment. Aggressiveness was the key. Greg had been overflowing with these feelings of late. He knew that any efforts to overcome his current emotional state would be counterproductive. Instead, it would be wise to take advantage of the natural outflow of sorrow and anger that he knew was going to be a part of his life for a little while. Instead of working against these natural processes – he would allow the processes to work for him.

Greg used the ride home to study up on the fire principles. He refreshed his knowledge of the sword techniques and forms associated with fire. He immersed himself in accepting this as his most efficient use of energy and resources for a while to come. All the while, Sharon babbled on. Greg felt secure in her ramblings. They made him feel more at ease. And Sharon naturally liked having someone to talk to – or rather, having someone to listen to her.

Back at the Hotel Headquarters, Ben was overseeing the Militia’s firing range time. They had placed silhouette targets on a nearby building that had been deemed vacant by the Army.

“I want to see accuracy and precision!” Ben called out.

Shots rang out in unison. It was obvious that Savannah was the most accurate in this group. She had proven herself in friendly competitions with some of the soldiers that she was better than anyone in that outfit, as well. There were many others in the militia who could shoot as well as the Army, if not better. Most of these sharpshooters were the so-called “gun nuts.” Nobody called them that now, though. Considering the fact that the vast majority of regular citizens who had survived were those who had the wisdom to make preparations beforehand, none of the others ever had anything derogatory to say about those preparations. Those who had once been labeled “paranoid” were now called wise, forward looking, and well prepared.

“Remember, ‘Aim small, miss small!’” Ben cried out.

“Are we doing quotes from the movie ‘The Patriot’ today?” Savannah teased.

“Yes, we are. Tomorrow is ‘The Princess Bride’” Ben retorted, catching the sarcasm.

“As you wish!” Savannah had a quick wit.

Greg, Sharon, and Sarah pulled up as the firing continued in even intervals. Greg immediately ran to formation with his AR15. He knew he needed all the shooting practice he could get. Sarah was close behind him. When Sharon saw the other two going in that direction, it became more convenient for her to follow. The three were welcomed into the group and assigned targets that were not currently being used.


*****

Friday, October 17, 2008

Ben was in discussion with Sgt. Williams and Col. Taje, as he liked to be called. The Militia operation to clear a neighborhood would commence in three hours, at 11:00 am sharp. The neighborhood selected was just two over from Ben and Greg’s old neighborhood. Communications deadlines were selected and reiterated. Protocols and processes were repeated for the hundredth time. There would be no errors – only proper execution.

Ben had handed a list of Militia members who would be staying behind on this mission. Most were new to weapons and tactics and, therefore, not yet ready for this task. There were a couple of names that stood out to Taje – because these names were of men and women that Taje knew to be capable in both weapons and tactics.

“Why are Matt Thompson, Mark Smith, and Linda Ramirez not going to be part of your operation?” Taje asked openly.

“These are individuals who have not yet grasped the concept of taking orders and doing them; as opposed to doing things their own way whenever they feel like it,” Said Ben.

“Makes sense to me, Captain. It seems you are all set. Is there anything else you need of me?”

“I think…” Ben started. “No, sir, I know we are ready. Thank you.”

“And it is OK with you that Sergeant Williams will be tagging along to report back to me on your progress?” Taje wanted to make sure Ben was really OK with that. There was no need to step on toes. Normally, he would not have asked – being in command and all. This time was different. This Militia was different. They had survived the worst disaster in the history of mankind. Some had actually taken to the offense. Taje realized that this group, as a fighting unit, already rivaled his own. With more time and training, they would likely exceed his own soldiers.

“Fine by me. He can lead if he wants to.” Ben replied.

“No thank you, Captain. In fact, it will be an honor taking orders from you.” Sgt. Williams said. “ I can’t wait to dust a few of those ‘outliners.’”

“Outliners?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, that is what the military is calling those zombies. It’s because they are only an outline of their former selves.”

“I see. Call ‘em what you want, but I’m gonna call them dead in a little bit!” Ben replied as they all headed off in different directions to do some last minute preparations.


*****

This is Ben Hill:

Ben is a natural at anything he has ever tried. He made Blue Belt in Jiu-jitsu in just under four months – when most people took nearly two years. He was an expert marksman and a superb tactical shooter, despite the fact that he had only attended two tactical shooting classes in his life. Of course, he got the highest marks in both of those, too.

BEFORE the comet hit, Ben had regarded his abilities as just something he liked to do. Now, they were a crucial part of survival. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things these days.

Ben had never been comfortable with the lead. He preferred to carry out orders – which he would do without fail. He never saw that this was the very reason he was a good leader. He never considered himself an expert – although compared to the knowledge people had now, he was just that.

Ben never considered himself a teacher. He was always looking to do things better himself. This is what qualified him as the best teacher for many of the Tennessee Militia.

Teacher. Leader. Survivor. Ben had never considered himself as any of these. But that same humility is what qualified him as the best living example of each at this, the darkest hour of humanity. Still, if he lacked anything, it was the confidence to execute these offices. That’s what made Ben need his lifelong friend, Greg. Greg was confident where Ben was not. Ben looked up to Greg for that. That is why Ben often had Greg speak to the group.

Ben has only two motivations in life. First is his beautiful wife, Savannah. She is the world to him. She loved him for who he was and he knew that. He returned that same level of love. He could not imagine himself without her. And she could not imagine herself without him. The two were truly one.

Ben’s second motivation was his secret attachment – his family and friends. He lived to serve them. This, too, is why he was the best selection to lead. He looked first to serve, as all natural leaders do. He knew that all things pass, in time; and that a man is not a culmination of what he does – but a culmination of who he cares for and who cares for him.


*****


Armored cars rumbled. Small animals scurried out of the way of large, deadly tires. The convoy arrived at its destination. Twenty nine people emerged from over a dozen vehicles. Quickly, they merged into a single unit. They formed a cell, with a ring of armed guards around the edge – forming a protective circle like a herd of buffalo around their calves.

“I realize we all know what to do, but I am going to expecting you to follow the given orders. Don’t jump the gun – even if you know what is next. Complacency here will get you killed.” Ben said.

“Remember guys, the Captain, myself, and Sgt. Williams are going to have direct communication with our sniper. We will know things because she can see them. You may not know what we know – in combat, every little detail cannot get passed all the way down to you. Trust us, we will trust you, and everybody goes home safe!” Ben said.

“Savannah, you and Sharon get ready to go and take your position. Wait for my mark. Sgt. Williams, you take these two and go create the distraction!” Ben said.

The idea was simple. Sgt. Williams and his two accomplices would go to the Southeast end of the subdivision – right at the entrance – and create a distraction by blowing away every Biter they could see. Hopefully, the noise and the smell of the rotting meat they would carry with them to the entrance would draw the attention in their direction. Sharon and Savannah would use that distraction to go to the Southwest entrance and clear and take the first house. It just so happened that this particular house had the highest ground in the neighborhood.

The first job of any good sniper is the collection of information. Savannah and Sharon would do just that. Observe. From the second story window, they could see everything and report it to Ben, Greg, and Sgt. Williams. If they had to fire, it would be as a last resort, or to eliminate Biters that would be hard to reach otherwise. Sharon would watch Savannah’s back. Savannah would watch the TM’s collective back.

Sgt. Williams and company made their way very quickly to their assigned entrance. Then the fun began.

“Hey, muthaf*****s! We’re right here. Come and eat us you #$%@! Whacha waitin’ for? An invitation?” Sgt. Williams was loud. It was so unlike him. He spewed profanities and insults at the Biters – all in an effort to get their attention. He got it.

Biters from the entire neighborhood came in his direction. Sgt Williams quietly reminded the Militiamen accompanying him to watch their fire to their left – as Savannah and Sharon would not like to get hit by friendly fire. They had decided in advance to wait to fire until the last possible moment so that if any Biters fled, the Sniper team could still get into position without having to fight their way into position.

“Wait… Wait… Wait…” Sgt. Williams urged. The Biters were within 100 yards.

“Sergeant, we need to fire” one of the men said.

“Hold fire. Take aim, but hold your fire!” Sgt. Williams barked. They all backed up a few steps. They had put the rotten meat in a semi circle in front of them, but now it was time to get a little distance from that meat.

The Biters progressed.

“Wait…”

50 yards.

“Wait…”

40 yards.

“Wait…”

30 yards. One of the biters – a smaller man in life – began almost galloping toward them.

“Wait…”

20 yards. They could smell the stench of unwashed person. But there was something else – almost metallic that was making the stench even worse.

“Fire. Outside – in just like you trained!” Sgt. Williams commanded. And all hell broke loose. The Militiamen were good. They worked from the outside in. Their lines of fire never crossed. Sgt. Williams picked off Biter after Biter that got too close between the sweeping shots coming from the two TM men.

On the other side of the subdivision, the gunshot was the signal. Savannah and Sharon made quick time to the predetermined house. Sarah went along with them, as did half a dozen others – all to help sweep the house quickly. Shots rang out. Sarah was the first in and had encountered a large male Biter – probably the alpha male of his group – just as she opened the door. A shot from her AR to his face quickly ended her problem, and created a new one – she now had to step over a dead body to get in.

The entry was smooth.

BANG. BANG.

BANG.

A double tap and a headshot from Sarah took out another Biter – who had been hiding in a closet. They’d heard about this from the Army – Biters looked for layers of shelter – places to hide inside rooms. Although they couldn’t work door handles really well, they could accidentally shut doors – making every closed door a threat. Stairs were a favorite, too. They all expected more upstairs.

“Clear!” Savannah yelled out. She had been assigned to the rear of the house on the left.

“Clear!” came another voice – rear of the house on the right.

“Clear!” this was a man’s voice – front of the house on the right.

“Clear!” came the final voice. All four quadrants downstairs were clear.

Sarah took the lead again as the group assembled to go upstairs. Two stayed behind and together they locked the back door and stood guard at the front door. Sarah climbed the stairs – keeping her muzzle up. She moved quickly to her quadrant again. This time, there were no Biters.

“Clear!” Came Sarah’s little voice.

Simon Lawrance, who was assigned the front right was not so lucky. There were two Biters in his first room. “Two! Two! I’ve got two!” Sarah rushed to help.

BANG.

Thud.

Simon had taken out the first one.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Crash.

That was a window. The thud was muffled as it came from outside.

“I always wanted to do that!” Simon said with a smile as he turned to greet Sarah. “Shoot somebody out of a window like the movies. Now my life is complete.”

Sarah smiled at Simon. But then, just as quickly, the smile vanished. “DROP!” she yelled.

Simon dropped to the floor.

A biter who had been in the closet had crept up behind Simon and almost had lunch before Sarah noticed him. Now it was this Biter’s turn to drop. Sarah provided the perfect motivation for the Biter to drop – two 5.56 mm bullets to the chest cavity. The first, they would discover later, hit the Biter in the heart as it was tumbling and coming apart. The damage was fierce. The second shot was directly to the sternum – which promptly splintered. The gurgling sound that the Biter made was ended abruptly by a third shot – this one from Simon; aimed directly at the Biter’s head. Game over.

By the time Simon and Sarah had recovered, the others had cleared their sections. In all, there were four Biters upstairs. All of the bodies were carried out front. By that time, a truck had been brought up by one of their teammates. Two by two, Sarah and the crew loaded the dead Biters onto the truck as Savannah and Sharon took their position.

On the other side, Sgt. Williams and his two men had made their retreat safely. The entire group, except Savannah and Sharon, was now ready. As they had planned, they immediately split into four squads, each with seven people. Except Squad Omega – they had six people.

Each squad had their own separate job. Squad Alpha, led by Ben, would salvage things found in each house. Two would stand guard while the others searched – room by room – and filled up cargo trucks they had brought. Items such as food, knives, guns, ammo, and clothes were to be salvaged.

Squad Gamma, led by Greg, specialized in fighting the advancing Biters on the outside. They would acquire strategic positions and angles and engage the Biters as they advanced toward the commotion. Greg had special instructions not to break into swordplay unless absolutely necessary!

Squad Omega, led by the young Sarah, would clear the houses. It was understood that a house could be cleared of Biters quicker than things could be salvaged from it. So, when they got three houses ahead of Squad Alpha, they would join with Squad Gamma to push back the outside assault. This was the squad with one fewer person, but many more magazines of ammo!

Squad Delta would load and dispose of the bodies of the Biters and other dead humans found. Unfortunately, on this day, there would be plenty of both. A predetermined house had been selected for burning. All bodies would be loaded into this house and then it would be set ablaze as they left. Sgt. Williams had volunteered to lead this group as he could get an accurate body count to report back to Taje.

The squads performed flawlessly. With specific assignments, and superb leadership, it took just under 10 hours to clear the 250 or so houses. The final body count was 607 dead biters, 166 dead humans, 3 survivors. They drove off with the one house ablaze and the acrid smell of cooking flesh in the air.

As they returned to the HHQ, there was a sight to behold. Several large tanks, and more soldiers than they had left there were standing at the gates. The lead squad of soldiers aimed their weapons at the Tennessee Militia as they pulled up…

Your opinions, suggestions and criticisms are welcome.  

Just keep writin'

I'll keep readin'

Originally Posted By Usagi: Your opinions, suggestions and criticisms are welcome.

Good Reading material!!

Keep writing because you can't leave those of us who have been reading it hanging

AKASL

LIVE FREE OR DIE

Just marking my spot , again .... Please continue

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This is the best since Lights Out

Good so far
And nice place to drop so we have to come back for more  

Chapter 9 – Full Strength

Coffee County, TN – Tuesday, October 28, 2008


Sarah looked out to the east. The group of Biters had passed by fifteen minutes ago. She wanted to make sure they had passed before moving. She wiped the sweat from her brow. It was slightly warm for this time of year in Tennessee – over 90 degrees for the second straight day, and unseasonably humid. The fact that she was in full camouflage head to toe and fully armed did not help. What she wouldn’t give for some regular shorts and a t-shirt!

Greg whistled – he was about twenty yards to her left. His whistle sounded like a bird of some sort. That was the signal. He moved out into the open. Had Sarah not seen him take cover there nearly an hour ago, she never would have seen him. They were in a wooded area a short distance from a local county highway.

It had been Greg’s decision to hide form the Biters rather than take them on. Sarah realized that was probably the best move. They had limited ammo and neither of them knew how long it would be before they got back to the Hotel Headquarters. They had been on their own now for three days. Sarah couldn’t help but feel that was her fault.

This had all started after that first Clearing. That’s what they called it now when they swept a neighborhood – eliminating the Outliners (that’s what the military brass called the Biters) and searching for survivors. The Tennessee Militia had been so successful. Then they returned to find military reinforcements – with the antidote! All healthy people were administered the shot and thereby been inoculated.

The shot was not too dissimilar from the flu shot. Some people got a little sick from it, but nothing more than a slight fever or mild headache. Once inoculated, a person could be bitten by one of the zombies and not become infected. Unfortunately, it had no effect on a Biter. They had tried with several, in hopes that it would cure them. Not a single Biter showed signs of recovery.

After the inoculations and the first successful clearing, the military and the militia worked hand-in-hand to sweep entire neighborhoods. It was a laborious process. The main thing they realized was that ammo would run out soon at the pace they were going. So two hard decisions had been made.

First, the decision was made to attempt to take out as many Biters as possible using traps like Sarah, Ben, and Greg had done – only with military bombardment as the destructive process. Second, it was decided that more ordnance and ammo was needed to keep up the process. One group went to Ft. Campbell, and another went to Tullahoma to get an aircraft and as many bombs and air to surface missiles as they could. Sarah and Greg had been part of the second team.

Sarah was surprised that Greg did not go with the first team – since Sharon had been on that team. Greg and Sharon had been spending a lot of time together in the past few weeks. On one hand, Sarah was happy for them. On another hand, she was a bit disgusted by it. Why couldn’t she find someone special like that?

Sarah had been thinking thoughts just like that as she stood guard at the Air Force Base in Tullahoma. She had kept her position for too long without checking behind her. The Biters had attacked from behind. She had managed to get clear, but that let many of them into the base. She had gone to tell Greg and he had followed her back, but they had been cut off from the others.

A few explosions and small arms fire had forced the two of them to take cover. Mere moments after that, the three convoy vehicles had blasted through. Greg rationalized later that they had probably figured since the Biters had breached the perimeter and pushed past the guards, that the guards had to have been overpowered or killed in the attack. Although that was obviously not the case, Greg did not blame them for leaving he and Sarah behind.

Now they had to make their own way back home. Which is how they got in the woods off a highway in southern-middle Tennessee in the first place. They had not dared to go back inside the military base – there were several hundred Biters in there. So they had walked. And they had to be extra careful about it. This area was not heavily populated, but the only inhabitants they saw anymore were the Biters. It had been over a week since anybody had found a survivor.

Sarah and Greg walked up a ridge, weapons ready. They had to always be ready. All that either of them had was their basic weaponry – AR15, Glock, magazines for same, a tactical folding knife, a multi tool, a day’s worth of MRE’s and however much water their camelback units carried. They did not even have a full change of clothes. Neither was well versed in wilderness survival.

“So, do you have a plan for getting back home?” Sarah asked.

“I do, but I want to hear yours first.” Greg replied. He knew what the wisest course of action would be, but he wanted to get Sarah thinking. It would help the time pass faster and help her learn to think critically.

“I don’t have a plan.”

“What would you do if I was not here?” Greg changed the question so she had to answer.

“I would go back the way we came in – which is what we are doing right now.”

“Anything else?” Greg was really trying to lead her.

“I’d find a vehicle if I could.” Sarah said. She had unclasped her gear belt so that the shoulder straps were bearing the weight and not her waist. She did this so she could unbutton her jacket – which was really too warm to wear right now. But it was too dangerous not to wear it with the Biters out and about. She needed some sort of camouflage.

“What kind of vehicle?”

“Something fast.”

“Why?” Greg really wanted her to examine why she made decisions – not to question them, but so she could question them herself. He knew this would lead to better decisions on her part.

“To outrun the Biters.”

“Have you ever seen a Biter move fast?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen a biter in a group?”

“Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything, Peanut.” Greg had started calling her ‘Peanut’ about two weeks ago, since that was one of her favorite snacks among the now limited choices of food.

“Like what?”

“Well, suppose you had to go around a group of Biters – a large group. Suppose that took you off the paved road?”

“I guess I’d want a truck, or jeep, or something like that.” Sarah said.

“Good. Now what else would you want?”

“To make sure it had enough gas.”

“And then?”

“I would want a backup plan – just in case something happened to that vehicle.” Sarah was starting to see how Greg was leading her down the path of good decisions.

“So what would be that plan?”

“Food. Water. Shelter. Clothing. In that order. Weapons would go in there, but we already have some.” Sarah said. She looked at the sword on Greg’s back. She remembered back to seeing him wield that sword in live combat. That was something that few Americans in the last century had actually seen.

“Good. I like the way you think.”

“Greg, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what?”

“What is it like, to fight the Biters with your sword?

“Just like when you shoot them, except I’m usually much closer. I guess the adrenalin from that really makes it addictive to me.”

“Oh.” Sarah said. “I thought it was something mystical, or honorable – you know like the ancient martial arts ways.”

“No. Not really. In fact, the sheer effort of generating enough power to slice through takes a while to get used to. It is completely different from the Kendo or fencing that people did. Those were just games of tag. Real swordplay is like tag with a sledgehammer.”

“I never would have thought of it that way. So why do you do it?” Sarah was really curious about this. She had started down this line of questions just so she could ask this one question.

“I am more comfortable with my sword that with a gun. I do not fear the firearm, I just have so many more thousands of hours with sword training than I do with firearms. I’m just more comfortable with those movements.”

“So it’s a personal thing – a preference?”

“That it! Just like you with a scoped weapon and Ben with a holographic sight. That is what you prefer, it works best for you. I guess I need to put in a lot more time with the firearms.”  Greg realized what he said as he said it. He really did need to shore up his shooting skills. Ever since the Biters came, he had relied way too much on his sword as his backup – his go-to weapon.

Sarah had not even noticed that they had walked past the top of the hill and were now going back down the other side. In front of them was the town of Tullahoma. As with any good small southern town, there were truck on every corner. Greg realized this – that’s why ha wanted to walk a little to the west – even though going to the east was a more direct route home. Tullahoma had been only a few hours walk form them. Manchester would have been much farther from where they had been.

“Do you have a model preference on the truck?” Greg asked.

Sarah realized where they were. “Looks like we will go with Ford today.” She said that, not out of any particular preference, but because they were just a few hundred yards away from a Ford dealership. New cars were better than used – because you could find a key more easily. And you knew that the car would not have maintenance problems. And you knew for sure that nobody owned it. A used car carried the small possibility of its owner still being alive. Sarah would not want to steal from a living person.

“How are you going to get that gate open?” Greg was still wanting to make her think.

“That’s the easy part – chances are that the keys are right beside the keys for that new, red extended cab up front with the V8 engine.” Sarah had good taste in trucks.

Five minutes later, Sarah’s prediction about the location of the keys had come true. The F150 was four-wheel drive, and had about a quarter tank of gas. No problem, the car dealership had a generator. They could take that with them and use it to power up a service station and pump some gas. The duo’s thoughts became reality and within thirty minutes they had a full tank of gas, plenty of food and water, and were on their way.

Sarah never noticed that Greg was headed west. The Interstate – their quickest path home – was east. Greg realized he would have to get Sarah a compass and teach her how to use it. Something about taking care of her needs soothed him, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Greg was headed west for a reason. Even if Sarah had protested, he would have headed this way. He was looking out for more than himself this way. A few short minutes of driving and idle conversation and Greg took a side road in the town of Lynchburg. He knew exactly where he was going. This was going to be so appreciated back at HHQ!


*****

“Granddad, where was Greg going? Where is Lynchburg?” Calista asked. It was well into the afternoon now, and the rain had let up. The kids had asked their share of questions, but this one stopped the old man right in his tracks.

“Lynchburg, Tennessee is where people used to make Jack Daniels Whiskey. It was a drink for adults. Come to think of it, I’ve not even seen a bottle of it in years.” The jolly grandfather replied.

“Since BEFORE?” Kyle asked.

“No. I’ve seen it since then. But the last time I saw it was not long after the comet. Maybe a year or two after. Can I continue now?”

“Please, please!” Johnny asked.

*****


Greg and Sarah had returned to HHQ later that evening. Their arrival was nothing short of miraculous. The Army commander had thought them dead at the base in Tullahoma. The fact that they were alive raised spirits tremendously. The fact that they had brought back so many cases of ‘liquid gold’ had raised even more spirits. A party was thrown – almost spur of the moment.

When Sharon had seen Greg, she had been all over him. As the party started, she was one of the many who really enjoyed her fair share of the Gentleman Jack. It was a welcome distraction for her. Naturally, as she had her fill, the drink took its desired effect. Her inhibitions lowered to the point of nonexistence, she was all over Greg.

In a corner to the side of the meeting room that was being used for the celebration, Sarah saw the display by Sharon. It disgusted her. Why couldn’t she have someone to love her, even if she were acting the fool like Sharon? In a huff, Sarah quietly slipped away.

In all of the distraction, guards were let down. Nature took its course. Sharon found her way to Greg’s room for the evening. With their respective inhibitions neutralized, Greg and Sharon shared an intimate moment… shortly before they passed out in a drunken stupor.


*****


Nashville, TN – Wednesday, October 29, 2008


Greg was angry. Angry at himself. Angry at Sharon. Angry at Sarah for starting the chain of events that caused this whole situation. But of these, he was angry at himself the most. He had lost control. He had been foolish. He had let his guard down.

Surely, he had some feelings for Sharon, but the more he dwelled on it, the more he realized those feelings were mostly sympathy. He was empathetic, to be sure – they had both lost a spouse recently. However, the truth remained – her personality and his did not mesh. He merely tolerated her presence.

The soothing – to the extent that Sharon could be soothing for Greg – had revolved around his empathy for her. And now that was unstable. He was coming to terms with the loss of his wife and son more and more each day. He was not healed – that would take months, if not years – but he had accepted the fact that his family was gone. That much Greg was sure of. And the more he came to terms with his loss, the less he needed Sharon.

Sharon, on the other hand, was becoming emotionally attached to Greg. She couldn’t figure out if it was just a rebound type situation or something deeper. Greg had been there for her. She was really into him – the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he thought things through. It was a scary time for her. She had not fallen in love with someone in over fifteen years. Her husband had been her whole world.

Sharon was not really mad at herself for letting her guard down last night. She needed what had happened - emotionally and physically. She had a hole in her heart and for the time, Greg was filling that need. He had unknowingly become her crutch. Sharon was mad at herself for how things had happened. She had hoped for more romance and buildup. Having given in while in an inebriated state took the romance and buildup out of it.

Greg met Sharon in the lobby area of HHQ. The look on his face was of quiet intensity.

“Sharon, I need to speak with you.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“It’s about last night.” Greg started. He knew what he wanted to say, he just wasn’t sure he could say it. The man who could face two dozen undead with nothing but a blade in his hand without the slightest appearance of trepidation was scared out of his mind to speak to a woman. To speak to a woman who held no ill will toward him. Perhaps that was the problem.

“I know what you are going to say.” Sharon started back at him.

“You do?”

“You want to tell me it was a mistake. Well, Greg Clark, I have seen many mistakes. I have made a few. Last night was no mistake.”

“You sound so sure of that.” Greg stated blandly.

“And you aren’t?”

“Last night was a mistake – no matter which way you slice it. Neither of us has been without a spouse for a month and here we are acting like teenagers. It’s sickening and unfair.”

“Unfair?” Sharon said. “Unfair to who? I loved my husband… as much as you loved your wife. There is no denying that. Neither of us is trying to replace our spouse. We are grown adults. Adults with wants and needs. It was good for me. And I know it had to be good for you, too.”

“Good has nothing to do with it. Yes, it was good. I’ll admit that. We shared an excellent moment together. But my problem is that I don’t want to hurt you.” Greg said. Now he was gathering his courage and leading the conversation where it had to go.

“Hurt me? I am not some child. I am a grown woman. I made the decision on my own. You are not going to hurt me.”

“That’s just the thing, Sharon. What we have… what we HAD was good.” Greg’s emphasis on the word ‘had’ caused Sharon to look puzzled. “The thing is, and this is not your fault – it’s mine.” Greg was almost stammering now – searching for the right words. “You are a great woman and I don’t want to hurt you… but the fact is that I am not in love with you. I never was. I simply was trying to be there for you. Trying to be nice.”

“Nice?! You call this nice?”

“Hold on – hear me out.” Greg was committed now. Now he could do it; mostly because he was halfway in the middle of it. “I’m afraid I may have been giving off mixed signals. You are a great woman, and I have no doubt you were a good wife to John Kemp. However, I don’t think we were meant to be together. Our personalities will clash more than meld. And you deserve better than that. I do apologize if you feel I’ve been coming on to you. That is not my goal – it never has been. I only wanted to be there for you in your time of need.”

“So all of this was for nothing? I can’t believe that. I just can’t,” Sharon replied with tears in her eyes.

“Not nothing. Don’t ever believe that. We are friends – brought together under extraordinary circumstances. We were there for each other when that was what we both needed. Heck, we both still need that.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“No, it won’t I don’t expect it to. I just didn’t want us to go too far before I let you know exactly how I feel.” Greg said.

“You’re right.” That’s all Sharon could say. She was stunned. ‘Too far?’ What kind of excuse was that. She was boiling mad. But, rather than let Greg see that, she turned and left without another word.


*****


In a fourth floor room, Ben and Savannah Hill were finishing their morning routine. Since Savannah’s return, they had spent every free moment together. Neither could stand to be away from the other for long – lest they be separated again. The situation with Greg just yesterday had reaffirmed that feeling.

Greg was settling into his role as leader of the Tennessee Militia. It was not a role he would have chosen, but the choice had never been his. Savannah was not surprised when she returned to find this out. She knew he would be a perfect fit – because he cared.

After coming downstairs and to the lobby where most of the Army commanders were located, Taje spotted Ben and quickly motioned him over.

“Ben, good morning. How are you?”

“Good, yourself?” Ben asked.

“I’m well. Listen, I need to get your thoughts on a new tactic for Clearing areas and neighborhoods. Got a minute?”

“Sure. Savannah, you go ahead and start the shooting drills.” Taje led Ben into his office and the men sat to speak.

“Ben, as you know we took possession of an aircraft – an A-10 Warthog – yesterday. We also secured some munitions for it as well. Also, I don’t have to remind you that ammo for small arms is becoming more limited. We aren’t out – or even close. But if this current situation lasts as long as it’s looking, we may one day face that possibility.”

“I’ve thought about the same. That’s why you got the plane, right?” Ben said.

“Yes. What I’m wanting to do is a modified version of the trapping that you did with the help of Greg and Sarah. Draw these Biters into a single area, then call in an air attack. One bomb takes out hundreds. A few operations a day and we can get the same results in less than eight hours of work.” Taje said.

“I think we’d all like to get back to a somewhat normal schedule. Although there is nothing normal about having to kill for a living, it is all we have right now. Planting can’t happen until next spring. This would give us all something constructive to do each day. I like where this is going. Have you ironed out any of the details, yet?”

“That’s why I called you in here. To pick your brain. You’ve actually been out there in the middle of all of this. Your experience will be worth its weight in gold.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly start to take the credit for this…”

“Leave the BS modesty outside. Lets speak frankly. You have come up with the most effective methods for ridding entire neighborhoods of these zombies. Do you think we can even do it with the plane?”

“Yes, but obviously we would need to change our methods.”

“I agree. I know what I was thinking, but I want to get your thoughts, Ben.”

“First thing, we would do this differently. Every squad would work salvage and have an individual for survivors. The squads are going to need to search the houses quickly. The squads would split into groups of six and four. Six to clear each house and four to fight out front if needed. Two people rotate each time to keep the perspective fresh for everybody.”

“Go on.” Taje suggested.

“With our current strength of four squads, we could clear an average neighborhood of 250 houses in six hours or so at that pace. This would also allow a meal break. That’s 40 houses per squad for the six hours. We could move at this pace because there would be no salvaging except for the houses in the target area. What I would do is then have specialist squads for salvage efforts come by the next day. Make sure they have some armed presence, just in case.

“Anyways, when things were wrapped up, we set the bait in the designated area. Or, we could set the bait after clearing the designated target area. Which do you think would work better, Taje?”

“Either is fine with me. What does your gut tell you – and why?”

“I say clear and bait the target area in the first hour. Then go to the opposite end of the area and work our way back. This allows us to do our job with the least amount of effort – specifically having to engage the Biters. This also maximizes time. Once we get back to the rim of the target area, we have worked for six hours or so, and that is plenty of time to get the Biters attracted into the meat zone.”

“What about the fact that you would then be in close proximity to the bombing area?” Taje asked.

“That’s the easy part. We would not want to drop a bomb without verification that there are enough Biters in the area. But, we must balance that with not bombing ourselves! The wrap up being close to that perimeter allows us to visually check the trap – maybe even close it up when there are fences…

“Or by using fires.” Taje interrupted.

“Right. Then we call in the bombing once we have moved to a safe distance – that should take no more than 5-10 minutes.”

“Good plan. I will relay this to my officers and top NCO’s. You get it to your people. We will start using this method next Monday.” Taje finished by standing up and shaking Ben’s hand.

Ben stood there, stunned. He had just come up with a plan of action, right off the cuff, and now it would be the mission objective for both the military and militia. He turned and left Taje’s office without a word. Later, he passed the info on to the TM. Nobody questioned the decision. In fact, they all seemed to like it… a lot.


*****


Half a mile from the HHQ, a pair of binoculars was focused on the hotel and its occupants. “Looks like military.” Said a gruff voice.

“Then we will have to be careful.” The smooth, deep voice responded…

Excellent work, keep going please.

Thank you
R/
Mike
VA Beach

Great Zombie update and can't wait for more.  Great job.

Next Chapter?????

I am going to TRY to get the next chapter out by this weekend. Lots of work of late. Boy, are you guys in for a surprise!!!

Originally Posted By Usagi: I am going to TRY to get the next chapter out by this weekend. Lots of work of late. Boy, are you guys in for a surprise!!!

I see you're online....I'm waiting....

Chapter 10 – A New Mission

Thursday, November 28, 2008 – Nashville, TN


Ben and Savannah Hill sat down to Thanksgiving dinner with the members of the Tennessee Militia and the US Army. Greg had said the blessing for the 320 or so people who had all gathered together to celebrate. Everyone was there – officers, enlisted, militia, citizens… everybody. There were no patrols. There were no guards outside (although precautions had been taken). There was nobody missing from the group.

Wild turkey was on the menu. It had taken Greg and Sarah all of six days to hunt and harvest enough birds to feed three hundred people. Taje had sent patrols out to gather fresh vegetables of whatever type could be found – and there was much corn, squash, pumpkin, and peppers to be had. Sgt. Williams had rustled up cans of mashed sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce. It was a full Thanksgiving with all of the trimmings!

Soldiers had built concrete walls around the hotel headquarters for security. All entrances had been sealed so that they could relax. There was no way for a Biter to get in. The past few weeks had seen over 10,000 Biters eliminated. Many areas had been cleared. Few injuries and no casualties had all in good spirits.

The Army had spotted fields for them to use next spring for planting. The fields were spread out in an effort to keep them all from facing destruction. If one was destroyed, the others might still be safe. Naturally, the soldiers had verified that the occupants of these farms were no longer among the living. In one instance, the soldiers found the farmer and his wife and they were persuaded to join the TM.

Despite these successes, Ben still had a concern. It was an unvoiced concern. He couldn’t tell anyone, lest they think he was being paranoid. All this time, they had focused on protecting themselves form the zombies. Not once, to this point, had they been forced to deal with predators of the living two-legged variety. Ben knew the odds. This was all wrong. And it was not uncommon for him to get the feeling that they were being watched.

Nevertheless, the Holiday was a much needed break from the dreariness that had become their world. This particular Thanksgiving was marked by snow – the first Ben had ever heard of this early in Tennessee. This had to be due to the comets impact. The weather had just been outright weird since then. People had all but figured that the virus that caused the Biters was either brought here by the comet, or had been a current virus mutated by the comet. Many had theorized that the nukes used to break up the comet may have had a part to play in the virus, too.

As Ben thought these thoughts, the meal came and went. People talked, laughed, shared stories of Thanksgivings past, and generally had a good time. Before he knew it, Ben had been coerced into playing the flag football game that had been organized just that morning. Ben was playing running-back. The first play called was a passing play – Ben was assigned to stay put and block for the quarterback as he threw the ball. Ben was getting ready to do just that when the explosion rang out.

In an instant, all the fun turned to horror. Greg realized that the explosion came from the opposite side of the hotel. He could see the concrete barricade was compromised from his angle. They all heard loud motors of vehicles – presumably coming through the barricades. In the ensuing pandemonium, Greg met up with Ben. Savannah and Sarah were there, too. Wisely, Sarah had not parted with their rifles. Unfortunately, none of them had more than the single magazine. They would have to think tactically to get back to their full weaponry and then evaluate what had to be done.

Sharon ran up, in the middle of the mob of stampeding people. The Army was moving as a well oiled unit, getting into formations to move around the building and take on their assailants. Greg took Sharon with them. They made a beeline into the back door of the hotel. All was clear there. Gunfire rang out from the front of the building. Ben noticed the sounds of some weapons that were distinctly not 5.56mm. This was a gunfight.

Fortunately, it was not a long trek to the gear. The group was outfitted in short moments – although to them it felt like two eternities. Greg was adjusting his katana as Ben gave the order to move. TM members were falling into line formations and quickly dividing into their respective squads. Ben directed Sarah, Savannah, and Sharon to the top floor to act as snipers. Then it hit him… these people – all of them – would be looking to Ben for guidance and orders. He was not going to be able to charge right to the front lines, he had to play commander here.

Greg took his platoon out to the opposite side of the Army. He figured that to flank the enemy would be a good tactic. Little did he know that this decision would prove crucial this day. As they neared the corner, Greg led them to take cover past the edge of the building behind several vehicles and leftover concrete barricades. His earpiece hummed to life and Savannah’s voice crackled through.

“Greg, we are up against the living. Be careful. Remember defense first – stay alive.” Savannah said. She was talking 90 miles an hour.

“Got it – how many are there? How heavily are they armed?”

“There’s at least two dozen. They are armed with rifles and I see a lot of side arms. Assume they are armed as well as we are.”

“Check for them to flank us – are there any at different angles?” Greg barked.

“No – this is a focused attack.” Savannah said. She had sent Sharon and Sarah to other locations to double check.

“Good. Start at the back of their lines and work to the front. Make them worry about attacking us. Try not to get noticed. Get Sarah shooting out of another window and let Sharon watch the entrance to your level. Greg out.”

Mere seconds after signing out, Greg heard the report of the AR-15 from above. Then another from a slightly different angle. He risked a look at the action. The Army was holding ground. There was an unfamiliar vehicle halfway through the destroyed area of the outer barricades. The attackers were still behind that truck. The Army had dug in at several tactical points and were keeping a suppressing fire in the direction of the intruding vehicle.

Greg checked his AR and activated the tactical sight. The circle-dot reticle came to life as Greg clicked it up a few notches for the outdoor daylight use. He gave the signal to his platoon for them to make their weapons hot. They had five areas of concealment – and three of those were actual cover since they were the concrete barricades. Greg motioned for two of the men to cover their flank from each place of concealment. Then, he motioned for the rifles to take their places.

None of the enemy that Greg could see had even so much as looked in his direction. They were focused on the soldiers firing at them; and being able to breach the front doors of the hotel. They were about 40 feet from that goal, but there was a lot of firepower covering that particular stretch of 40 feet. Greg gave the motion and he and nine others propped their rifles on top of their cover and took aim. They would be spotted easily from here if the attackers ever looked in their direction… so Greg decided that speed was needed right now.

Fire. Greg thought the word. He actually spoke the word, although he would not remember saying it for some time to come. He made the word a part of his will and his will was done in his hands as well as his head. Red starburst were seen. Men went down. Living men. Men who would have shot them, given the chance. It was the chance that was never given due to their own negligence.

The TM was efficient. Almost as much as the regular Army. Their combined effort, coupled with their flanking side attack, really put the attackers at a disadvantage. Added to the mix was the fact that Sarah and Savannah were taking potshots – one after the other – at the rear of the ranks. In a flash after the commencement of fire by the militiamen, the twenty five or so attackers were reduced to single numbers. Bodies littered the blast-forged entrance.

To make matters worse for the attackers, they couldn’t figure out why they were getting shot behind the entrance as well – no soldiers were leaning over the concrete, firing at them. This moment of confusion told Savannah all she needed to know. This group was loosely organized and poorly run. This attack had not been planned out well. They were hoping to use surprise to their advantage, which had worked at the onset. Savannah realized this would be over as soon as it started.

Greg realized the same as Savannah had before she radioed to him that fact. He had made the advance to the far side of the wall – away from the direction of the Army – left to a known doorway so that they could take further advantage of these idiots. When he and his small squad got out into the open, it was fascinating. Nine or ten people – most of whom looked as though they belonged in a gang or some other marginally legal group – were holding various rifles, shotguns, and handguns. They were huddled – looking toward the Army ranks and fear was in their eyes.


*****
A shot. That is what Dewey heard. It was closer than the others. Then he realized where it came from. Right next to him was a man in tree-pattern camouflage with a military rifle pointing in Dewey’s general direction. How did things get this way? Ned was so sure that his plan was going to work. They’d drive up really quiet – blow the fence up, move through and shoot everybody in sight. Then take what they wanted. Not rocket science, but to the point. Everybody felt it would work.

Then Ned got shot. Then Bill. That was good – Dewey didn’t like Bill. He was too mean. He would run over anybody who got in his way. Then everybody started looking to Dewey and asking him what to do. How was he supposed to know? Next thing he knew, he was looking at the wrong end of a gun… which is where he was right now. *Dang! There’s more of them!* He thought as he lifted his arms in surrender. Most of the rest of the group did the same. Except Tim – he was a real hot-head. He went right after the main guy who’d fired up in the air. The fight was on!
*****


Greg realized he wanted to give these people a chance to surrender. It was one thing killing ten Biters – but these were living, thinking people. OK – maybe thinking was not what they did best – but they were people nonetheless. He gave the signal to move in for a capture. Another squad rushed out to help. They had the attackers outnumbered. He heard the Army stop shooting. Savannah had seen and gotten word to Taje’s men to let the TM finish this one.

Then it happened, one of the stupid biker-looking guys rushed at Greg and tackled him. Greg’s AR went flying and he instinctively went for his pistol. Then he realized he was acting without thinking – he had immediately and reflexively placed the attacker in his guard… a position where the man on the bottom holds the man on the top in place by wrapping his legs around the top man. Greg flung his Glock to one of his counterparts. *This guy wants a hand-to-hand fight; I’ll give him a fight and show these militiamen to listen to me when I give hand-to-hand instruction!* Greg thought to himself.

Greg had his sword removed while maintaining complete control of his attacker. He flung that aside as well. Now he could move. The attacker – Tim – raised up and tried to punch Greg in the face. Problem was, Greg knew he was going to do just that. All the years of training with new people had given him this insight. He’d been here thousands of times before. Being on his back on the ground in a fight was actually to his advantage – because he knew what to do and how to do it. He swam his arms inside of Tim’s and wrapped up Tim’s arms before the first punch could fly. Greg unlocked his legs – he could do that because he now controlled Tim’s upper body – and hooked his right foot under Tim’s knee.

Tim was pushing away hard. It seemed to him like Greg was incredibly strong. What he didn’t realize was that while he was using raw strength to make his moves work, Greg was using less than 10% effort – pure technique to make his moves work. So when Tim finally did push up to an erect posture, Greg followed him up effortlessly. Before Tim could think of what to do, Greg had instinctively secured Tim’s right hand and continued to move in the situp motion… past Tim and through Tim. Tim rolled over backwards and wondered why.

Greg had just swept his opponent from the top position to being directly under him. It had been too easy. Greg now sat up to rain down some blows of his own. He knew that the blows were just the bait – not at all the trap. Tim instinctively raised his hands up to his face – just the reaction Greg wanted. He took Tim’s right arm and pushed it down, across his face. Tim looked horse-collared. Greg slipped his left hand under Tim’s head and grasped his right wrist – which was trapped against the ground. Using this tied up position to his advantage, Greg set his finalization into action.

Tim never saw it coming. To the untrained eye, the motion was a blur. To those who knew, it looked methodical and slightly rusty. Greg lifted on Tim’s trapped wrist, which promptly turned him to his left side. Greg moved close, tucked his left foot, and rolled to his back – pulling Tim with him. Now both men were sitting, legs straight out, facing up to the sky. Greg was behind and slightly under Tim. The back-mount position in Jiu-jitsu is the top spot to be in; and Greg had it. Tim never saw (or felt) the choke coming. Greg had hold of the lapel with his right hand and used his left to pull Tim’s left hand over his own head. Using his right leg to trap Tim’s right arm, Greg constricted the choke.

Hypoxia. Low oxygen levels to the brain. If this happened for an extended period, say two to three minutes uninterrupted, it would surely kill a man. However, most pass out long before that. A properly applied choke takes five seconds to knock out an opponent. It is sleeping pills without the medication. Tim was out in three seconds. Greg realized he had really sunk this one in tight! Greg did not envy the headache that Tim would have when he awoke.

The militia men who had witnessed had stood in awe. Greg had dispatched the man in seconds. Maybe fifteen seconds. Maybe twenty. It had not been long. It was smooth. It almost looked choreographed. One thing was for sure – whatever it was that Greg had done, they wanted to learn it – and never have Greg use it against them in a fight!

The reaction from the now captured attackers was unadulterated awe. Tim had been one of their tougher members. To see him handled like a dad who wrestles with his four year old son was unimaginable to them moments before. They all realized they may well have picked the wrong group to try to raid. This surely wouldn’t end well.

Moments later, the captives were marched into the Hotel. They were introduced to Taje and Ben. They were informed that soldiers were now seeing to the proper disposal of their friends’ bodies. They were treated fairly, and asked many questions. Taje and Ben saw fit to feed them – well. And let them shower and allot them fresh clothes. All of the nice treatment was surprising to them. Hadn’t they just tried to kill these people?

“So what do you say we do with them?” Ben was asking Taje in a closed room. The detainees were in a single room that had once been set aside for business meetings and the like. They were getting updates on conditions across the USA.

“What do you mean? We keep them here!” Taje said.

“We have no places to keep prisoners. This is a hotel, not a military compound! If we let them stay, they will just try to harm us.” Ben retorted.

“Maybe. Maybe they will realize we are all at war – just not with each other.”

“I wish we could make them realize that, but there are no guarantees. What’s to say that one of those guys doesn’t try to take a rifle off one of your soldiers or mine and go apeshit on the whole place?”

“Ben, you are right. That’s why we ease them back into society. We don’t judge them. They were here looking for food, clothing, shelter. We give them those things – we have plenty. We show them a better way. But I agree – we must be cautious.” Taje responded.

“Ok, we’ll do it your way. But I still think we should keep them guarded, at least for a little while.”

“Agreed. Let them *earn* their way into here. Then they will have more respect. Perhaps even become members of the militia.”

“First things first,” Ben replied. “how will we detain them?”

“We will keep them on the top floor. Assign a soldier to monitor the elevator and restrict access going in and out. We send up their food at mealtimes, and allow them out here once per day – depending on their good behavior – to socialize. Hopefully that will get through to them.

Just then, Sharon burst through the door – leaning on Sarah’s arm. “I don’t feel so good.” She said… right before she wretched there on the floor.
*****


Greg and Sarah waited down the hall. The Army medic was looking at Sharon. Both of them were a bit uneasy.  Sarah had explained how Sharon had become ill all of a sudden. Their first thought was that she was turning into a Biter. After that didn’t happen, they got her the medic. He’d been looking at her for the better part of an hour now.

“How many did you… take out?” Sarah asked tentatively. They had started with small talk, but had progressed fairly quickly from there.

“Three that I know of. You?”

“Five.”

“How do you feel?”

“Uncomfortable. I don’t feel sorry for the ones I killed. But I don’t hate the ones that Ben said we would be keeping here. Is that wrong of me?”

“No, Sarah, that’s exactly how every military officer would say you should respond. That’s ideal. Don’t be afraid or remorseful for killing them when they’re shooting, but be compassionate to your fellow man once the fight is over.”

“You make me feel better. I was beginning to think something was wrong with me for not being ashamed of the killing.”

“Unfortunately, there’s been too much killing for any of us lately. I think we may all be getting a bit… desensitized to it.” Greg said.

Sarah leaned in and Greg found himself hugging her. He did not pull away. He did not want to. After all, he was only providing emotional support to a friend. Nothing wrong with that. And it just so happened that his friend had hair that smelled absolutely fantastic. And with that thought, Greg found satisfaction with just letting things be as they were.

Sharon came walking out of the medics office – another makeshift hotel room. She strode confidently, but had a look on her face that nobody there had ever seen before. It was some kind of mix of fear, elation, and sadness, all rolled into one. She walked up to Greg. “Can we talk?”

“Sure, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. That’s what I need to talk to you about.” Sharon said.

Greg’s gut turned as he figured this one out before Sharon would say it. “I’m guessing you want to speak in private?”

“You guess right.” Sharon said coldly. There was no emotion in her eyes.


*****


Greg sat and looked blankly as Sharon explained her newly discovered pregnancy. There was no question it was his. And in all sincerity, there was no question in his mind what he had to do. He should marry Sharon – that would be best for the child. He would live up to his responsibilities like a man. He would be a good father. There really was no question in his mind. The course had been set. He was angry at himself for how he had allowed the course to be set, but there was no changing that now.

Greg found himself only half-listening as Sharon explained how long she could continue in the militia, and other such nuances that would now fill her next eight months. He found himself thinking of his hug with Sarah. No, he thought, he shouldn’t think about that. After all, it was innocent. There was nothing to it. And she was surely not his type… or was she. He’d like to find out. Then he scolded himself for that thought.

Sarah, meanwhile, sat lonely in her room and cried herself to sleep…

The story is coming along well, don't let it die.

Keep it up.