Outnumbered

By Robert Schobernd

While the other nations of the world succumbed, the zombie aberration exploded on the East and West Coasts and Gulf Shores of the USA; people there quickly turned into undead monsters by the millions.

The eminent decline of mankind was suddenly apparent to we survivors at Deliverance. What wasn't apparent was the dangers we would face from an equally heartless and despotic adversary in rogue humans.

Eventually, fewer sightings of zombie gave us hope; but the damage was done. The national electric grid was down, deteriorating, and never to be recharged. Fuel to run generators, autos, and furnaces would soon be exhausted, never to be replenished.

Ultimately, we survivors will continue our struggle, no matter the hardships, or humanity will cease to exist. Are we the sole remnants of the once thriving races of humanity?

Reality dictates we will continue a downward spiral to conditions seen in the fourteenth century. That thought is enough to humble even the strongest of survivors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Schobernd
• Release date: Nov 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215808986

Robert Schobernd

How and when will mankind end? Will Conservatives restore prosperity and national pride? Or will Liberal Socialist/Marxist plunge the United States into submission through lies and anarchy? And then will the entire world survive the coming Robotic and Artificial Intelligence onslaught?

Book preview

Prologue

I don't know where to begin because I don't know for sure where the zombies began. Some say they started with the black magic of witch doctors in Africa. Others insist it had been Haitian bokor sorcerers and their curses. Still others claim a virus that occurred naturally started it all. Before worldwide communications and then USA internal communications and media shut down, there were rumors the virus had been developed by Muslim religious fanatics. Maybe that's why those western Asian countries were affected first, and their populations were annihilated first. Then the religious zealots here professed the very God they worshiped unleashed the zombie on all of us because of our greed and corruption. I'm not a religious person, never have been, but I find it hard to believe any God revered by large numbers of followers would wipe out an entire planet for the sins and atrocities of a few. But after what I've seen and been through, what do I know?

This is our story.

Tom Jacobs – June 13, 2020, year two of the zombie apocalypse.

CHAPTER ONE

The worst day of my life started at midmorning on a Wednesday. I'll never forget the horror introduced to that bright, cool spring day. John Alton was on duty in the northwest guard tower. His raised voice spoke urgently over the internal speaker system. Tom, Emma left the compound by herself. She's crossing the alfalfa field toward the woods in a dead run. She left through door six heading toward the path to the pond. Do you know what she doing? Earlier this morning there was a sighting of zombies in that area. Move it guys; see what she's up to.

I ran to door six and grabbed my rifle. Outside, I fell into a line of other armed responders racing to protect Emma.

Emma hesitated near the closest tree at the edge of the clearing. At least a dozen zombies converged on her as they lumbered out from the woods surrounding our forty-acre clearing. Most were the usual slow moving monsters we'd grown accustomed to over the first year since the US apocalypse launched. One, though, appeared far different. That lone monster moved faster than the others but in disjointed erratic surges almost like a young child learning to walk.

As we ran toward her, I saw Emma shoot the nearest male in the head with her .40 caliber Glock. She aimed at another, hesitated then dropped the handgun to the ground and raised her customized AK 47. She nailed another zombie, and then suddenly she stopped firing.

John switched to the outdoor speakers. Hurry, guys! Emma's in trouble. It looks like her rifle jammed. As I ran, I heard the reports of two distant shots that sounded like they came from the tower behind me. One of the maggot infested monsters was almost on Emma as its head exploded and the brain turned to mush, thanks to John.

By then, seven other defenders had left the compound by another door and were on course to intercept our group near where Emma struggled with her weapon. She ejected the magazine from the assault rifle and slammed in a fresh one.

Eli Allbee and Shane Holescheck dropped to their knees and aimed rifles at the attacking zombies closest to Emma. They fired in unison, and the craniums of a female and a male zombie disintegrated in a mist of blood and brain matter before they stumbled and fell. Two of the remaining slow movers reached Emma and struggled with her as she tried to beat them off with the rifle to stay out of their grasp. Why hadn't she turned and run from the stinking horde? The monsters latched onto Emma's arms and grappled with her as their jaws eagerly chomped on air. Emma stood between the zombies and the people running to save her and didn't leave any clear paths for shots. Seven of the stinking, rotted monsters fell before they reached my wife, thanks to the effects of well-placed head shots.

As our group got close enough to aim at the remaining three undead terrors, two of the zombies gripped Emma's body tightly, pulled her close and bit chunks of her flesh Their heads reared back tearing bloody pieces of flesh loose. I cringed and cried out as Emma screamed in pain and despair while one of the undead chomped on her thigh and blood spewed. As I drew closer, I tossed my M14 and pulled my Glock.  I cringed at the bloodletting as two more zombies were blasted and crumpled to the ground. In shocked horror, I screamed as the last zombie's head moved to Emma's neck. Blood spurted from the final bite and ripping of flesh. Then the monster hung on and chomped deeper and deeper into Emma's flesh.

Emma was as good as dead when I shot the last zombie in the head from four feet away. The undead terror loosened its death grip on Emma. The monster turned toward me with fresh blood dripping from its insatiable maw as if gloating in my face before it collapsed to the ground. Emma's neck was almost severed, and her head tilted to one side. Blood sprayed out and down from the wound to coat Emma's clothes and the ground around her. She stared at me with a look of anguish and utter confusion as she slowly collapsed to the hay field on top of the monster that felled her. Emma's yellow halter top and torso were covered with blood and more puddled in a low spot on the ground near her head as the responders gathered helplessly around her. I was petrified by the sight of my precious Emma's abused and contaminated body. Her head rolled to the side, and her sightless hazel eyes remained open. I dropped to my knees and restrained the urge to pick her up and hold her close for the last time.

Shane pulled me to my feet and looked at me sorrowfully. She's done for, Tom. Go back inside; I'll do what needs to be done.

I gently, but forcefully, removed my best friend's hand as tears flowed down my cheeks, and my posture straightened. Thanks, but Emma's my wife and she's my responsibility. My voice was only a whisper, but he nodded his understanding. He patted my shoulder, gave it a tight reassuring squeeze and stepped away to direct the cleanup of the zombies we'd put down. 

Emma lay on her back. I silently dreaded the impending transition—the evil transformation as she became one of them was building. I wanted to turn from her and vomit, but I couldn't tear my sight away from the bloody, mutilated shell of my lover, my soul mate. After a minute or so, her legs twitched spasmodically, her beautiful face contorted into a sneer, and her lips curled back to reveal white teeth encased in a snarl. Her mouth opened wide, and she screamed the terrible high pitched screech I'd grown to dread. Her head turned on the remaining filament of her neck, and her eyes glared at me as if I were a piece of raw flesh hanging on a meat hook. The red-eyed wildness I'd witnessed so many hundreds of times in the monsters I'd to put down stared at me. Emma's body bent at the hips and her torso rose from the ground. Her elbows slid back on the rough alfalfa to support her. She moaned loudly and gnashed her teeth as we locked eyes. I sighted down the slide of the .45 caliber Glock and focused on the forehead of my one and only Emma. Along with Emma, part of me died that day when I squeezed the trigger.

––––––––

At three in the morning, I stopped screaming. I continued to struggle in the dead of night against the strength of several strong arms even after my cries died away. Slowly I emerged from the recurring nightmare plagued me for the past three nights. As I joined the living, I stared wild-eyed at the people around me.

Connie Diuduid and Janice Holescheck pushed through the men in the room and sat on the edge of my bed. Connie held my hand tightly while Janice wiped the perspiration and tears from my brow, face, and neck. They each attempted to console me as the men drifted away to return to their own rooms. Connie gently took the wet cloth from Janice's hand and continued to wipe my neck and chest. Shane nodded at Janice, and she rose. They said comforting good-byes and left Connie to attend me.

Connie pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. It'll get better over time, Tom. The pain will fade and eventually disappear. Relax and try to go back to sleep. I'll stay with you till morning.

I sat up in the bed and shook my head. Why did Emma go outside with two almost empty magazines in her weapons? Each only had a single round in it. Why would she do that? She'd been trained and knew better. No one goes out there under armed or alone. It's almost like she wanted to die. I can't get over it. She could have avoided the danger by running back to the building, so why didn't she? And the confused look she gave me when she saw me standing there. I can't get that out of my head. What was going through her mind at that moment? I looked to Connie for answers, but she shrugged, ran her fingers through her thick blonde hair and hastily looked away.

I don't know, Tom, I don't have the answer. She moved to sit on the edge of my bed. Lie down and try to sleep. All of us depend on you, and you need to be rested. I'm here for you, and I'll stay close. Connie pushed me back and down until my shoulders merged with the bed and my head sank deeply into the pillow. She moved the chair away, flipped the light switch to off and sat beside me and stroked my shoulder. I was aware of her closeness until I drifted into a fitful sleep some time later.

The next morning, Martin Radcliff Sr. chaired a meeting to discuss the catastrophe that befell Emma. He was a few years older and a few inches shorter than me. I felt lethargic and knew my red-eyed, unshaven appearance was totally out of my norm.  But it was how I felt.

Tom, I've discussed Emma's death at length, Martin began, with Shane, John and Ed Jarnigan. John was in the northwest tower and sounded the alarm when Emma left the safety of the compound alone. He nodded at John.

John ran his fingers through his short, black, kinky hair. All I know is what I saw that morning. Door six flew open, and Emma charged out of it alone. She wore shorts and a halter top; that's hardly an outfit to run through an alfalfa field in, so I don't believe she'd planned to do that. Something must have spooked her to cause her to do something that uncharacteristic and dangerous.

Shane said, I've spoken to everyone in our group, but nobody had an inkling as to what Emma was up to that could have motivated her to leave like that. I'm stumped.

Ed leaned his tall, heavy frame forward toward me. I checked her magazines. The two in her weapons were empty, and John is sure she only fired each weapon once before she changed the AK's magazine. We picked up her spent brass, and the count confirms the second magazine was full. It's a mystery why she went out with nearly empty magazines. She'd been on the practice range earlier. Maybe she had something urgent on her mind and simply forgot to reload. He shrugged and shook his head.

Martin looked to me for comment. I rolled my eyes, exhaled, and looked to the floor.

Tom, all I can do is classify Emma's death as having occurred under mysterious circumstances and file it as an open case. I'm sorry, but that's all we know.

––––––––

Two people remained on duty in the guard towers as twenty-four members of our group took seats in the dining room. I stood in front of them feeling somewhat like my old self again but not fully recovered. Time to start the weekly meeting folks. Quiet down and listen up. The talking ended and everyone, including four children under the age of sixteen, sat attentively waiting. My thanks to each of you for the support and consideration you've bestowed upon me since our loss of Emma. She was a great lady, and I know each of you loved her and will miss her tireless efforts to help and support each of us. I paused and wiped at a tear I felt drifting down my cheek. "But it's time to move on and again concentrate on our survival. Janice has adjusted the work schedules to reflect Emma's passing, and they'll be posted on the bulletin board as usual after the meeting. Please check your assignments for next week and get back to her or Elsie if there's a conflict.

"Martin Radcliff Sr., Shana Thompson, and Vince Cortez leave tomorrow on a supply run primarily for food staples. They'll also stop at local police stations and search for more equipment and tools Martin can use in the possible investigations of crimes within the group or from outside sources against us. We fully intend to function as a lawful society. Since Martin has experience as a law officer, he'll continue to function as our sole peace officer and investigator in all criminal matters. If anyone would care to work with him to train as an assistant, please catch him after the meeting.

Jeff Tanka needs two volunteers to make a fuel run to top off the diesel tanks. See him after the meeting and arrange for people to handle your scheduled work assignments while you'll be gone. I looked to Ed.

"In two days, Ed, Andrea Michaels, and I are going toward Chicago to search for ammunition and more firearms. Since manufactured ammunition is scarce, we need to plan for the future when our ammo stockpile is depleted or deteriorated. If anyone knows anything about gunpowder manufacturing and how we could do it, get with Ed. While we're gone, we'll also stop at libraries to look for books on the subject. If anyone has specific items you need, give a shopping list to Andrea, and we'll try to find them if we have time.

"I'll say it again. Items that are left on store shelves and in warehouses are the last commercial products available. Conserve what we have. When our stock is used up, we'll still have to feed, clothe and protect ourselves. We have some ideas on those issues and are open to suggestions.

On a related issue, three volunteers are needed to sit on a team dealing with those future problems. If you're interested, see Connie to sign up.

I rubbed my forehead and frowned. "In fact, we need to start a list of books by titles or authors, if you know them, of subjects that will become crucial to us in the future, both immediate and long term. We'll create our own library of books containing information on subjects our heirs will have questions about.

"We've been collecting a large supply of a vast assortment of seeds to expand the vegetable gardens next year, but that's not enough. If you'd like to serve on a committee to work on food supply, canning and storage issues, see Connie after the meeting.

Does anyone have business to bring before the group...? No? Then we're adjourned.

I turned to go to the office section.

Need any help? Connie's hand brushed down my right arm. I'm glad to see you smiling again. You're handsome when you smile. She grinned as she took my right hand and playfully gave it a firm squeeze, then walked toward the main office. She was pretty: a light complected blonde with a voluptuous five-foot, six-inch, one hundred twenty-pound figure. Her boyfriend Cory Petersen fell to the zombies about five months ago, soon after they arrived here. She was available. Maybe something could develop between us in the future, but not now; it was obvious Connie had those intentions. But Emma still dominated my passionate thoughts, and I wasn't ready to let another woman replace her, at least not yet.

Our compound is a large metal building in a remote section of west central Iowa. Two guard towers jut from the second floor at opposite corners of the building. Armed guards with radios occupy the towers around the clock every day of the year.

I was in our armory inspecting and repairing recently confiscated weapons. Most were new guns we'd pillaged from gun shops and Army Reserve Armories that hadn't already been robbed bare. As a group, we're partial to Glock handguns of .40 or .45 caliber, M4 carbines, M16s, Russian-made AK 47 rifles, and Remington 12 gauge automatic shotguns. Our group prefers those six because they're reliable and we’re sure to have spare parts for many years to come. Personally, I like the older M14 because of the heavier bullet it shoots. They're all common, and we have a good backlog of them for spares and repair parts. It also helps reduce the variety of ammunition that needs to be stored down to four plus 12-gauge slugs and buckshot. We also have some other weapons and ammo for them that are kept for trading plus various specialty weapons and ammunition and some explosives.

As I worked, I dwelled on the memory of Emma as I did to get through each day. We'd dated since entering high school, and we married before I joined the Army. While I was gallivanting around the world with Shane doing our male thing in Delta Force, she'd earned a degree in Business Administration. She'd always listed owning a small business as one of her long-term goals. After my military discharge, I worked as a carpenter until I learned the trade, and then I opened my own general construction firm. Emma was instrumental in helping me organize it and get it off the ground. She became the office manager, and we worked together everyday. Life was good, and we expected it to get better. But then the zombie apocalypse descended on us, and our lives suddenly changed course forever.

A hand tapped my shoulder, and I jumped. When I turned, Ed Jarnigan stood there grinning, all six foot three inch, two hundred sixty pounds of him. Didn't mean to surprise you. Here's the itinerary I mapped out for our run to Chicago. We can stop at nine gun stores, and on the way  we'll check out the homes of two unlicensed gun dealers I knew. This route will take us to the outskirts of Chicago but not into the city proper.

––––––––

A week later, I checked the inventory sheets in the armory. Our trip to procure more firearms and ammo had been successful, and all new pieces were inventoried and stored. Our weapons and ammunition supplies had increased monthly during the year since the zombie invasion, but I still wasn't satisfied with the amount of ammunition. Mandatory weekly target practice for twenty-three people ate up a lot of rounds, and I felt concerned for the future. At our next leadership meeting I'd speak to Shane, Ed, Andrea, and John about cutting the target shooting back to a bi-weekly or monthly schedule. I looked up from the paperwork and cocked my head as I had another idea concerning target practice. If everyone kept track of how many zombies they put down in a given period, the shooters who reached a given number in a set time frame could be exempted from mandatory practice. Their field proficiency would be better than shooting paper targets.

At ten a.m., I left the armory and headed for an exit go outside and take the weekly gauge readings of the four underground fuel tanks. Faintly in the distance, I heard tractor engines as the mowing crew cut the alfalfa ground cover on the forty acres surrounding our compound. We baled it to feed twenty head of Black Angus cattle, but at its full height before cutting the thick crop effectively slowed the zombies during an attack.

Each tractor carried two shooters riding in two-foot diameter waist-high caged platforms. Their sole job was to watch for zombies. The sounds of the diesel engines diminished as the tractors continued around the field and away from me. Even before leaving the building. the aroma of fresh cut alfalfa wafting in through the ventilation system stirred fond memories of better times only a few years past. Memories that were filled with Emma's love.

I cringed when I heard the sentry in the northwest tower announce, Look alive, a whole mob of zombies is stumbling out of the woods toward the building. The mowing crews see them and have headed for the big door, but I think the zombies will be here close behind them. There must be at least fifteen of the damn things and a few are still staggering out past the trees. So much for tank gauging.

The emergency alarm sounded its harsh Ooogah, Ooogah, for everyone to mobilize. The sound of diesel engines increased as they were revved higher to outrun the hungry horde. Sporadic gunfire rang out sharp and clear as the mowing crew raced past the zombies toward the big sliding equipment entry doors at the north end of the building. Expert marksmen assigned to the second floor gun ports made their way up the nearest of four sets of stairs with their rifles in hand.

Suddenly, the engine noise diminished, and thumps and thuds were heard. I raced past an exit with my M14 as two others left the building. In the distance, one of the tractors was flipped over on its side. Two men stood in uncut alfalfa firing at the advancing zombies. My concern focused on one man I could barely see laying prone in the cut alfalfa. He didn't move and was likely injured. The other tractor stopped, and the three men on it fired multiple rounds at the advancing horde as the undead lumbered toward them. Then their stench reached us on an errant breeze as if guts from a slaughterhouse poured down on us. I don't believe I'll ever get used to that ghastly odor of rotting flesh, guts, and feces. Four of the undead scum changed direction toward our group and staggered ahead. Two sharpshooters ahead of me knelt to firing positions and quickly decimated the four monsters in their shuffling tracks. Gunfire from the building behind us dropped several more.

As I approached the damaged tractor, a small group of zombies lumbered around the mower unit and surged toward our crew. I aimed, fired and a rotted body dropped. Two of the monsters peeled away from the group and focused on our man on the ground. Both were fast movers and closed on the man in seconds. I shot at one of the stumbling undead and missed. They pounced on him and tore chunks from his arm and stomach with their teeth and leprous fingers. One of our people stepped into my line of fire. The terrified piercing screams of the poor bastard cut through the moaning cries of the remaining monsters as he regained consciousness and realized he was being eaten alive. One of the creatures raised a string of bloody intestines up high and let them fall to his yawning mouth as Maria Gonzales blew the back of his head off before she turned and shot the second undead creature from ten feet away.

The shooting finally stopped. I spoke to Tony Osmond as he stood staring in disbelief at his mutilated friend Ollie Fredrichs. He knew Ollie would have to be shot before he could rise to attack us and wasn't taking it well.

I moved between Tony and his view of Ollie. What happened, Tony?

Tony shook his blond head and closed his clear blue eyes for several seconds. I was driving as fast as I thought was safe when the front right tire dropped into a hole. Likely, it was a washed-out groundhog tunnel. I didn't see the damn thing because I was trying to keep away from the zombies, and I kept glancing to the side to see how close they were. Tony tried to see past me in his dazed condition. It looks like that whole front steering section is wiped out. He shook his head and refocused. My buddy, Ollie, was in the left cage. When the tractor flipped, he must have been thrown high and far and came down hard.  Tears lurked at the corners of Tony's eyes as the knowledge that his friend would quickly join the undead overcame him. I can't believe my best friend is gone.

I heard a single shot from behind me and knew Ollie had been put down after he transitioned from living to dead to undead. I put my arm around Tony's shoulders and started back to the building with him. The responders knew what needed to be done and would bring a backhoe to bury the zombies in a mass grave in the field. More guards with trucks would be stationed so workers could escape if another zombie attack occurred.

Ollie would be interred in a far corner of the field where markers identified the graves of our deceased comrades. Ollie wasn't the first friend we had lost, and unfortunately, he wouldn't be the last casualty interred to our small graveyard. He'd quickly join the other five people we'd all mourned for after they fell victims to the flesh-chomping zombies during the prior year.

Shana Thompson, our teacher and Tony's girlfriend, met us inside the building and hugged Tony as she consoled him and cried with him. I left them and walked to my room, so I could have a few minutes alone. Today, the constant danger and accompanying death overpowered me. I needed a few minutes alone to rejuvenate.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. So much death. Sometimes it abated for a few days or even weeks, but it never ended. It lies in wait ready for one of us to slip up ever so slightly, so it can jump in and claim us. Fresh meat, that's all we were. Death lurked around every corner laying a trap to claim its next unwary victim.

My thoughts, as usual, turned to Emma. What the hell possessed her to leave our safe haven and run away on her own? How could she do that? We talked about safety procedures daily, and I'm positive she understood the importance of the buddy system. Why didn't she come and get me if she was going to the lake? What was so damned important that day to cause her to ignore everything we'd talked about since this damned invasion began? And her final look. What did I miss? Was she trying to tell me something? She seemed so surprised to see me. Why?

I fell backward across the width of the queen-sized mattress. Tears welled as I recalled our wedding day. We'd agreed to limit our drinks at the reception, even though we'd been intimate for over a year. She wanted our wedding night to be special and not just another night of great sex. And it was special. My God it was so special. She was so alive and giving and passionate.

A knock on the door ended my reverie. I said, Come in, and Connie entered. She closed the door behind her as I sat up straight and then rose to my feet with a resigned sigh. She moved close, almost touching me. She reached up and grasped my head to pull me down for a kiss.

I stopped her. No Connie, the timing isn't right. I need more time. Sorry.

The smile disappeared from her face. I'll try to not crowd you, but I think you need someone to talk to who cares about you. I'll be here when you're ready.

I nodded and put distance between us. We left my room, and I went to the northwest watch tower to let the duty person know I was going outside to gauge the fuel tanks. I felt Connie's stare follow me until I was out of sight. I liked Connie as a friend, but Emma still consumed my thoughts and my affection. My love for my wife had burrowed much deeper than even I'd thought possible before she died. I'd never anticipated the extreme feeling of loss her death evoked. But it was there, and I still struggled to live with it. Connie would have to wait until I was ready, and I wasn't even close to being there.

––––––––

The month following Ollie's death passed uneventfully except for the frequent sighting and shooting of zombies. Such ordeals had become routine occurrences. They seemed to be fanning out from the cities into the farmland at an ever increasing rate. We spoke of it and supposed it occurred because almost all humans had been annihilated in the densely packed larger cities.

John, Janice, and I exited I-70 at the turnoff for St. Peters, Missouri. The day was pleasant, partly cloudy, and almost cool for early summer. We were searching for food, guns, and ammo or any other useful items. Locating useable supplies had stabilized because there appeared to be only a few small groups, like ours, that survived the undead onslaught. With fall approaching, I wanted to stock up on all the food items we could find before freezing weather destroyed more of the canned foods packed in liquid.

A large, elevated sign for a Schnuck's grocery store rose up in the distance off to our left. Janice maneuvered to it and drove around back to the loading dock. The single overhead delivery door was raised like the entrance to a dark, dank cave. It was evident he store had been hit already. We almost passed it but I chose to take time to stop and look.

Inside the warehouse, we discovered whoever had been there earlier had been a lot pickier than we were. They left a lot of canned and bagged food staples we could use. Whole pallets of rice, beans, flour, sugar and cases of fruits and vegetables remained untouched.  We left after loading our twenty-foot enclosed goose-neck trailer three fourths full. We already were likely well over the recommended weight limit but had more empty space inside.

Our next stop was a Walmart store two miles off the highway. Again, we pulled around back. An older model Dodge pickup occupied a space along the back of the building. We stopped and parked ten yards from it. Miscellaneous boxed items partially covered the truck bed. We approached the entrance door cautiously. It was possible the people inside could be friendly, or they could shoot on sight; we'd experienced both replies. Inside the building, we stopped when we heard several gun shots. We clicked the safeties off the rifles and flattened against an inside wall to get our bearings. The stench of zombies hung in the humid air like a herd of rabid skunks had died there. The shots faded to eerie silence. Clear plastic panels in the roof allowed enough sun rays to penetrate the gloom to see without flashlights.

The three of us cautiously turned left toward where the gunshots originated. As we got closer, we heard human voices. We scurried along in single file. Several more shots echoed through the cavernous warehouse, and we again stopped to look and listen.

Turning down a main aisle, our noses picked up a much stronger putrid smell of the undead. Four people stood a hundred feet away. Several zombie corpses lay close by them. I motioned for John and Janice to step back behind the remaining racks of palletized goods to be safe in case the humans weren't friendly.

I leaned around the rack and shouted, Hello, we're friends. Do you need help? In the distant aisles, I heard the moaning of more zombies. We surveyed both directions of the aisle where we crouched and didn't see any monsters nearby.

Two men, a woman, and a young girl eyed me warily. All four carried guns that were turned in my general direction, but the barrels pointed safely toward the concrete floor.

I yelled again. Three of us are here gathering supplies, do you need help?

Behind them, I saw several zombies emerge from a cross aisle fifteen feet away. Behind you, more zombies! I yelled. The moaning and screeching grew louder as the zombies sensed the movement and sound of live prey.

At least eight of the macabre undead advanced on them as more stumbled around the corner. My group moved down the wide main aisle to help the strangers. Faster than I ever expected, two of the zombies streaked ahead of the rest and attacked a man dressed in military camouflage. He stood to the left at the edge of the aisle. He'd fired several bursts without having time to aim at their brains. The momentum of the attackers drove the man back several feet. The barrel of his M16 lodged under the head of the nearest zombie and blasted its brains out. But the second fast mover sank its teeth into the man's flesh between his shoulder and neck. The man's screams were muffled by the zombie's hand clawing at his face.

The other strangers had their hands full with approaching slow movers and we were too far off to chance shots past the humans into the zombies. I stopped and sighted on the zombie chewing on the first man they'd attacked, but they moved around erratically behind the other people as the man began to crumple downward. He was as good as dead, but I couldn't chance a shot that near the other three folks. The man and his attacker slumped to the floor behind the line of shooters. The large bodied man lost the struggle with the unbelievably strong monster.

We reached the humans, and I shot the zombie who was now on top of the downed male human attacking his face. I shot it in the head twice. The man underneath it appeared to be dead. Large, ragged chunks of flesh lay beside him in a widening pool of blood. I turned and the six of us finished the final onslaught of zombies in less than thirty seconds.  I quickly counted at least fourteen more zombies on the floor.

The three strangers appeared relieved until they saw their fourth member lying on the concrete covered in blood. The woman cried out and took short running steps toward the man and started to sink to her knees toward him. I grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back before she could touch him. She was thrown off balance and fell to the concrete on her butt. She glared at me as I stepped between her and the dead man. Don't go near him. He's dead, but he's in the process of turning. He'll soon be one of them.

Over my shoulder, I saw the dead man's legs draw upward in spasms. The woman stood and moved in front of me. Tears ran down her cheeks and her shoulders drooped. She pulled a pistol from a thigh holster, and I stepped back. Her pain and sorrow showed on her face as she steeled herself to the task.

I can do that for you, I offered.

She didn't look at me. I'll do it. He said I had to do it if this happened. I have to protect the ones he left behind.

Faster than I'd have believed possible, the new undead body threw the fast moving zombie off and surged up off the floor with its mouth gaping open. Frighteningly quick it reached for the young girl in one unbridled lunge. She scampered away. The woman reacted just as fast. She raised her arm and three shots from the large caliber handgun blasted through the zombie's right temple. Blood and brains splattered against boxes on the shelves and ricocheted through the air.

The girl screamed and leaped to the woman. They both wailed loudly and sank to their knees clutching each other tightly.

The other man, middle aged I noticed, spoke. He had vivid blood splatters on his shirt. His hands, neck, and the left side of his face were speckled with red. He muttered, I don't know what to do next. My son-in-law was our strength since the zombie attack. He made the major decisions in these types of situations. He turned to look at the woman and child. I guess we'll finish collecting supplies and head back home. He looked at us with tears streaming down his cheeks and laid his hand on the woman's shoulder. She sobbed and looked as distraught as the older man. She stood and pulled the girl up with her.

I turned and looked questioningly at John, then Janice. They each nodded.

I'm Tom. My friends are John and Janice. We have a compound in Iowa, and you're invited to join us if you'd like to. There are twenty-six of us, and you'll be welcome and safe there.

The man wiped away tears with a shirt sleeve. His brown hair was thin at the crown; a bare circle was forming. I judged him to be five feet ten inches tall and about two-hundred–thirty pounds. Kira is my daughter, and Paige is my grand-daughter. I'm Walter Conley. He pointed to the corpse that had just turned. That was Carl Schafer, Kira's husband. Carl had been a big, powerful, rugged looking man.

Walter and Kira conferred for a minute. Thank you. Kira said. We'd like to go with you. We'll work and earn our way however we can help.

Janice stepped forward and extended a slender hand to Kira as she introduced herself. We have strict rules, but they're common sense things for the good of all. There are daily work assignments and mandatory training for everyone. We also have a teacher for the children. Paige makes five students.

I drew the attention of our new members. One thing I want to be clear about up front is the requirement that you'll be separated and placed in solitary confinement for three weeks. If you're infected, you'll be put down. After the three-week period, you'll be members of our group, but only then. Do you agree to that?

Walter and Kira exchanged glances before they silently nodded. Kira spoke to Paige to comfort her and assure her that everything would be alright. Paige still stared at her daddy's body but stood straight and tall beside Kira.

I dug in the rucksack hanging on my left hip and tossed bottles of water and disinfectant to Walter. You need to clean up, get the blood off of you before it finds an opening in your skin. He headed toward a restroom at the back wall to use a mirror.  John pulled a