Zomb-Pocalypse 3 Page 10

  "Morning girls." Abby, Megan, and I stop in our tracks, seeing everyone but Sunny and Barry already gathered in the living room. I feel a little deflated. I'd felt special, like a real grown up getting up early for work all on my own.

  "Morning," Megan replies for us when Abby and I remain silent and gape. Obviously, Abby feels the same way I do. Everyone is gathered around the table with coffee and breakfast. I eyeball the table, a long scarred up piece with antique chairs that used to be in the dining room.

  "Nice table," I say as I step forward and grab myself a cup of coffee. I'm not really a coffee drinker, but it's hot and I'm cold, and I could use the boost of energy.

  "It was Chad's idea," Mom beams. "We eat every meal in here because it's warmer by the fire—it just makes sense." She grins like it’s the best invention since sliced bread.

  "I was just tired of sitting on the floor," Regg says, brushing off the compliment, and I smile. I can already see he's going to be the perfect leader. We've been eating in the living room for a week now—Abby, Megan, and my parents for even longer than that– but no one ever saw it as permanent, so no one ever took steps to make it easier before now. Regg is thinking long term.

  I sit down at the table, glad I'm no longer designated to the floor, and grab a huge stack of pancakes. We picked up a whole bunch of pre-made mix and syrup the other day, and it's amazing to eat something so normal and delicious. My breakfast is usually something out of a can, or cereal without milk—it's just like before the zombies came and messed everything up.

  "Are you ready for your first day of work?" my dad asks us, and all three of us girls nod eagerly. We are a little bit nervous to be going out there, but we haven't seen much zombie activity up here on the mountain. So as far as job descriptions go, lumber jack is one of the safest. We're also eager to finally get out of the cabin. My mom has kept a pretty tight leash on all of us, and we've developed a pretty severe case of cabin fever, especially Abby and Megan, who've been here a lot longer than I have.

  "You guys will be great," Regg says as he finishes his pancakes and pushes his plate away. "Today you'll just be taking it easy and learning how to use the equipment." My face falls a bit at his words. I don't want to take it easy, I want to get out there and work—do something useful for a change. "We don't have a supply run scheduled until we can make a better plan, so your dad will be out there with you today." Regg turns to everyone else. "Silas, if you could try and find some fresh game. Ryan and I are going down the mountain to that little store at the bottom of the hill. I want to find a map and whatever supplies we can, but I'm guessing it will be pretty picked over with the other families living up here as well."

  "Do you think we should meet them?" Megan asks, "The people in the other cabins." Regg and my dad look at each other with clear worry etched into their faces.

  "We will eventually. They are probably doing the same thing as us right now, trying to stockpile to survive the winter," Regg pauses. "The problem is, if we get too friendly we might end up feeling responsible for them, and if they don't have proper provisions for winter..." Regg pauses, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say what he needs to say.

  "It will strain our resources," Silas finishes for him, and Regg nods.

  “Exactly.”

  "So what?" Abby says surprising everyone. "Maybe some of them are women and children that don't have a skilled hunter or an army guy." A tear leaks down her cheek. "Maybe we should just help them because it's the right thing to do." My mom reaches over and pats Abby on the arm, and I feel a surge of guilt. Abby has still managed to hold onto her humanity and I'm not sure how she did it.

  I want to feel for the others, but they are strangers and I'm kind of with Regg and Silas. We need to make sure our own are taken care of first, and if I’ve learned anything about strangers lately, it’s that most of them can’t be trusted. The one’s you can trust—you just shouldn’t get attached to because most people don’t last long anymore. I bite my lip and push away my plate. I used to be such a humanitarian, collecting donations for earthquake victims in Haiti, the residents of New Orleans after Katrina, heck, I’d even go spend time with the animals down at the shelter once or twice a week. This is the first time I've really thought about how I've changed, and I'm a little disturbed by the adjustments in my basic human instincts

  "Today we need to be doing this," Regg continues, oblivious to my realizations about the state of my soul. "You need the training, and to be taught what to look for. We aren't always going to be here to help you—most days we will be on supply runs, probably right up until the road gets impassable when it snows. One of these days we will meet the neighbors, but today, we do this. Just remember that our preparation now could help them this winter if we really need to." His voice is kind but firm, and Abby doesn't argue further. I stare at her suspiciously because I know her pretty well, and she is usually thinking of some scheme when she gets uber quiet.

  My dad might know this too because he pushes his chair back and stands up. "Ready to get to work girls?" he asks, and we all nod, eager to get out of here. My mom hugs each of us and hands us a large grocery bag filled with water and granola bars.

  "Please be careful," she begs us, and we all echo the same agreement. Dad hands us each a pair of leather work gloves and a warm winter hat. Ryan comes over and says goodbye, but Silas just sits at the table talking with Regg, though I catch him staring at me.

  “I wish I could come with you,” Ryan says, and I give him a smile as I extract myself from his hug.

  “We will be fine, I promise,” I tell him as I head out the door with a wave to my mom.

  Our breath puffs white in front of our faces, and the cold air stings the exposed skin. "It's chilly this morning," my dad says cheerfully as he leads us over to the pick-up, and we all climb in. I shiver as we wait for the truck to heat up and start blasting some hot air. If this is fall on the mountain, winter is really going to suck!

  "So what's the plan?" Megan asks, and I lean forward expectantly, eager to hear the details.

  "You'll need to find spots well away from the other cabins. We don't want our neighbors to think we're poaching their resources," my dad cautions. "Silas scoped out a few areas and said there was a lot of deadfall if we follow this road around the other side of the lake." My dad holds up a hand drawn map on a piece of paper and I stare at it; it looks like chicken scratch, though I assume the big glob in the middle is the lake.

  We bump over the dirt trail, and the cabins start to thin and disappear as the trees get thicker. I count the signs of life at all the places we pass, but only about a third of the places we see are occupied. Away from the cabins, the last reminder of civilization falls away and the forest looks a little creepy and dark—if I’m honest. I look over at Abby and can tell she's thinking the same thing. Megan doesn’t seem too perturbed by anything and is staring out the window intently.

  Finally, my dad stops and takes the truck out of gear and we all pile out. He leads us to the side of the road, more like a goat trail really, and points to a big pile of brush that is a mixture of large and smaller branches and even a few trees that have rotted and fallen over. It looks like it's been sitting there a long time. "This is ideal," my dad says as he bends down and starts picking through the pile to show us. "This is called deadfall because it's already on the ground, so it's easy access and it's had a chance to dry out and will be great to burn."

  Megan frowns. "I thought we'd be chopping down trees," she complains, and I grin at her. I'd thought the same thing.

  My dad chuckles at us. "You will be eventually, but we'll have a lot of time to get to that. Right now we will focus on the easy stuff. Live trees won’t burn as well and will have to be dried out. Believe, me you'll thank me later."

  We walk back to the truck and he lowers the tailgate, showing off four brand-new chainsaws sitting in the back of the truck next to a jug of gas. "Where did those come from?" I ask, and dad smiles.

  "Barry picked them up t
he other day in Wal-Mart—one good thing he actually did," he jokes. There are axes too, in all different sizes, ranging from small hatchets to serious lumberjack looking weapons with a spike on the end. I can't help thinking how good a couple of these would be against the dead—then I can’t help wondering if something is wrong with me that I automatically think about this stuff? “It's important to understand that these tools are not toys," my dad cautions like we’re a bunch of little kids on our first day of pre-school. "If you cut yourself, there aren’t hospitals anymore, we don’t have a doctor either.”

  “Another reason to meet the neighbors,” Abby can’t resist pointing out. “Maybe one of them is a doctor.”

  My dad smiles patiently at her, but doesn’t acknowledge her idea either. It’s a moot point right now in the middle of the forest. “So take your time and do it right," my dad continues, picking up one of the chainsaws. He points out all the important parts before demonstrating how to fire it up. All three of us cover our ears when it roars to life, and my dad turns it off with a sigh.

  He makes us each try it until he’s confident we know what we’re doing. The roar of the saw is a little bit terrifying, but also empowering. Dad makes the hand across the neck sign for me to kill the engine, and I carefully turn it off.

  “Perfect,” he says, beaming at all three of us. “Now it’s time for a different kind of safety lesson,” he says, making us all stare at him in curiosity. “We are pretty high up the mountain, but as we found out the other day, the dead might still be around.” His words make my stomach flutter in fear. “You will need to work in a rotation at all times. Two girls will be chopping and stacking wood while the third is on watch for the dead.” We all look at each other. “You can take turns and pick how long you want each shift to last, that way you will all get a bit of a rest from cutting and stacking.” My dad pauses and looks at us each in turn. “Got it?” he asks, and we all nod.

  “Got it,” Megan says, and I mumble the same.

  “When you’ve cut the wood, it will need to be stacked in the back of the truck for transport to the woodshed.” My dad looks at the back of the truck and frowns. There isn’t that much space to stack wood with the large fuel tank taking up half of the box. “I will talk to Chad about getting you guys a truck just for hauling wood.”

  We all grin at the idea of getting our own truck, even if it is a work truck and we all have to share it.

  “Awesome,” I say, and the other two girls agree.

  “I knew you would like that,” my dad says with a grin as he hands us each a chainsaw. “I’ll be helping out with the wood cutting, but I want to see you girls working your rotation like you would if I wasn’t here,” he says, and we do rock paper scissors to see who takes the first shift zombie watching. Abby is chosen, and she doesn’t seem all that upset that she will miss out on the opportunity to be a lumberjack right away. We decide to switch watch every half an hour, that way we will all get a bit of a break.

  Soon, Abby is walking the perimeter of our worksite, and Megan and I are firing up our chainsaws. Dad hands us each a pair of sunglasses to protect our eyes from flying wood, and then he wanders away and cuts wood off by himself to give us some space to get comfortable with our routine.

  We quickly learn that this isn't the glamorous work we'd thought. It's hot, despite the freezing temperatures, and its backbreaking work. I'm sweating like a pig. At the same time, my nose is so numb from the cold that it won't stop running. The leather gloves help to keep my hands warm, but they are bulky and I'm not used to them, so it makes everything harder. More than once I look up and catch my dad watching us with a worried look on his face—it makes me more determined to do this. I could cry from relief when it's my turn to take Z watch. I’d lost the second rock, paper, scissors, and Megan had taken the second watch. I circle around the small perimeter of our work area like the other two girls did, but after each circle, I make the perimeter a little bit bigger.

  It's cold so I don't want to stop moving, but I also don't want to walk in the same tiny circle five hundred times.

  I look out into the dense trees and catch movement out of the corner of my eye. My heart starts thundering in my chest. I really hope it isn't a zombie. Everyone has adopted an uneasy acceptance about letting us loose in the woods, but if I have to shoot a zombie on our very first day out—they will probably reconsider and we'll be back in the house before we can even say the word zombie!

  I hold as still as I can as I slip my gloves off, letting them fall soundlessly to the forest floor as I reach for the gun at my hip. There is definitely something behind that tree. I raise my gun and aim, but I keep my finger off the trigger. It’s probably a zombie, but there are other live people around here and I don't want to accidentally kill one of them—that would not be the way to start neighbor relations.

  My arms are beginning to shake from adrenaline and strain by the time I finally get a glimpse of the creature behind the tree. I see long, skinny legs first, then a fair-sized rack of antlers, and a beautiful brown body. It's a deer. I start to lower my gun. The deer is no threat to us, but I pause. I've never been hunting before, but a deer would mean fresh meat. It would also mean that Silas might be a little impressed with me, especially if his own hunting trip turns up empty.

  I grin a little as I line up the shot and pull the trigger without giving it much thought. My gun lets out a faint pop. The deer jerks and goes down as my shot connects. I start forward, but my steps falter. It isn't dead, and the poor thing is thrashing around wildly in the dirt and dead leaves. Suddenly, I'm horrified about what I've done. I've never felt a moment’s regret for shooting the dead, but this deer was alive.

  Tears trickle down my cheeks as I approach its struggling body, and I’m swamped by guilt. There's so much blood and it isn't black and sick, it's red and pumping out everywhere. I feel the urge to vomit, but I have to do something much more important first, so I swallow it down.

  My hands shake as I raise my gun again and aim pointblank at its head. Its eyes are wide and bulging in pain and fear, and pink foam is sticking to its mouth. "I'm so sorry," I manage to choke out as I squeeze the trigger. It's pointblank and messy, but the poor thing is out of its misery. I collapse to my knees in front of it and start to bawl.

  "Jane?" I hear my dad’s voice and duck my head so he can't see my face. I feel the weight of his hand on my shoulder.

  "I never feel bad when I shoot zombies," I choke out as I motion to the body in front of me. "But I just feel so bad about this!" I sob, and my dad pulls me to my feet and hugs me tightly.

  I feel the pat of hands on my back and wince that Abby and Megan are seeing me like this.

  "It’s okay, Jane,” Abby says as she rubs my back.

  “We really did need this to survive,” Megan says, taking the more practical approach.

  “I know,” I tell them. “I know I’m being ridiculous. I just thought it would be the same as shooting a zombie, but it made me feel so…guilty.”

  I pull away from Dad and stare down at its prone body. “I don’t know if I can eat it now,” I admit, but my dad shakes his head.

  “You’re eating it,” he tells me sternly, and I stare up at him in surprise. “If you kill an animal, the best way to honor it is to make sure it didn’t die just to rot into the ground. Always eat what you kill, or don’t kill it,” he tells all three of us.

  “Just never zombies,” Megan adds, and my dad looks a little grossed out at the idea of eating a zombie.

  “Yes, of course. Never eat a zombie,” he agrees, making us all chuckle a little. “Now let’s take this deer back to camp and see if Silas will dress it for you,” he says, and we all grab a leg and start lugging the deer back to the truck. It’s surprisingly heavy and it takes all four of us to wrestle it into the back of the truck. We’ve only filled the truck half full of wood, but the other half is full of meat, so I think that’s a pretty good compromise, and I actually have a small smile on my face as we head back to camp. I st
ill feel guilty, but I know that we needed this meat, and it will be put to good use.

  Silas is sitting on the front step skinning a rabbit when we pull up, and I don’t miss the fleeting look of relief when he sees us returning safe and sound. “Done chopping wood already?” he asks in surprise as we slide out of the truck.

  “Not exactly,” I say slyly as I motion him over and point to the enormous deer carcass in the back of the pickup. I enjoy the way his jaw goes slack in surprise.

  “Your dad got a deer?” he asks excitedly, and I shake my head.

  “I did,” I say proudly, and Silas looks skeptical.

  “Really?” he demands, and I nod.

  “I wasn’t sure if that little rabbit there would be enough for supper…” I tease, and he grins.

  “Well damn, I’m proud of you, Blondie,” he says, and I can’t help but beam. Later I’ll share my guilt ridden experience with Silas, but right now, I just want to bask in his praise for a little while longer.

  Chapter Ten

  The morning is drizzly and wet as the girls and I throw on our gear. “Today is going to suck,” Megan complains, and I nod in full agreement. It’s totally going to suck. It has been raining for the last couple of days and, with the low temperatures, it’s only a matter of time before it turns to snow. I wish we didn’t have to go out today. But since we’ve had such a late start getting ready for winter, taking a personal day is not really an option. The past week has gone by quickly, despite the weather, and the girls and I have fallen into our own little routine. There’s been a lot of changes, but some of them haven’t been all bad—I was always an athletic person, but I’ve really seen a lot of changes in my body over the last week. Long hours spent chopping, hauling, and stacking wood has toned and muscled my arms and upper body.

  The girls and I always joke that if the world didn’t end, we could’ve made a fortune selling logging-workouts as part of a full weight loss and toning program. It’s fun to have something to do while we complete our mindless work, and listing all the stuff we would buy with our profit is a favorite for us all—it’s not like we have TV anymore.