Joseph Talluto - Taking It Back

“We’re heading to the railroad. The line runs alongside the town itself and we should be able to stay out of sight of the main horde,” I said, pointing to the rail lines coming up fast. “At most, we will have a few miles to go.”

“Are we walking?” Tommy asked.

“Have to, unless there is a service road,” I said.

As luck would have it, there wasn’t any road, so when we reached the railroad, we had to ditch the cars. We packed up as much as we could, taking every weapon and round of ammo we had. We put the generator in the car and packed as much food and water as we could. Hopefully the supplies we left behind would be here when we got back, if ever.

We moved along the railroad track at a steady clip, walking briskly, but not so fast we would be exhausted if we had to run. We had about two miles to go, if I read the map correctly. Sarah walked behind me, followed by Tommy and the others. Charlie brought up the rear.

Tommy spoke up. “I really hate being exposed like this. I feel like we’re going to suddenly be surrounded.”

I pointed to the graying horizon. “We will be if we don’t get to that town.”

“What if the town is already dead?”

“We’ll burn down that bridge when we come to it,” I said.

“Backup plan?”

“Got one.” I did, but it was iffy at best and required more than my allotted lifetime share of luck.

Tommy went silent again. We moved closer to the town, and I could see a multi-colored barrier sticking up out of the ground. It stretched for about two miles off to the west and out of sight to the south. I wondered what it was made of for a while, but when we got closer, I realized it was made of the same thing that we had made our first fence out of. Surrounding the better part of the town was a line of cargo containers. I noticed some containers standing away from the fence and wondered briefly what they were out there for, but I figured they must have been leftovers.

We moved closer to the town and I started to see people standing on the containers, watching us approach. There were three of them, all armed with what looked like to be scoped rifles. If it came to a shooting, we were going to catch the short end of it. I hoped it wouldn’t but I had learned a while ago that things weren’t always as they seemed.

We picked up our pace and headed towards the group. The cargo containers paralleled the tracks, so we didn’t have to go far. When we were about fifty yards out one of the men raised a hand and we stopped.

“That’s far enough. Who are you and what do you want?” The speaker was a graying man, about fifty years old and carrying a decent paunch. He had a badge pinned to his jacket and was keeping a hand on his sidearm.

“I’m John Talon,” I called out, “and these are my friends. I believe one of you has been talking to my friend Nate Coles?”

“I’m Sheriff Tom Harlan and these two are my deputies. Come on up. We’ve been expecting you.” The sheriff motioned to one of his deputies and the man lowered a ladder for us We quickly climbed up and introductions were made.

From our vantage point, I could see the town was well cared for and I could see several people moving around and just going about their daily lives. It was a picture of the community I was trying to build in Leport. The line of cargo cars stretched out and I could see they had encircled a water supply as well as large swaths of farmland that looked like it had been recently tilled and planted. If any town was going to succeed, it was this one. That is, if the zombies let it.

The sheriff told his deputies to see to our group and the rest of the crew headed down a ramp that went down the side of the container. I could see many of these ramps and realized they were better than ladders because there was less chance of tripping either up or down.

Sheriff Tom and I started walking along the top of the containers and I could see several spots where zombies had been killed and disposed of along the perimeter. “Looks like you managed to weather the storm better than most, Sheriff,” I said.

The Sheriff grunted. “We got damn lucky. Our high school kids were the first ones to let us know something was happening and for once us adults actually listened to them. We had meetings about what to do and how to save our town. Several of our ‘ol boys were survival nuts of a sort and they had some pretty good notions. We figured we needed a quick fence, something we could put up and take down if it turned out the plague was not as bad as everyone expected.”

“Where’d you get all the containers?” I asked as we walked close to the reservoir.

“One of our guys is a train driver for the depot north of here and he told us about all the containers that were sitting there, doing nothing. I guess the companies that made them found it cheaper to make new ones than pay to have the old ones shipped back. Anyway, he started bringing them down and here we are.”

“Are they attached?” I asked, remembering that we had a group of zombies that nearly managed to get past our fence early on until we welded them together.

“Most of them are,” said the sheriff, “but I can’t remember which ones aren’t. We had a breach a little while back with a group of fifty zombies who pushed one out of the way and got inside.” The sheriff stepped over a rise in the containers and stopped at the corner of the fence. “We lost several people before we got the better of them. That’s when we got in contact with your pal, Nate. He told me if there was anyone who might be able to get us situated to where we don’t have to worry about that again, it was you.”

I shrugged off the compliment. “I just try to do what makes sense and try to stay alive while I do it.”

“Well, I would appreciate the help,” said Sheriff Tom. “Although I kinda figured you would have brought more people.”

I nodded. “I wish I had too,” I said, looking at the horizon.

Sheriff Harlan looked puzzled. “Why’s that?”

I pointed at the advancing grey line. “Because that swarm of dead people will be here by tomorrow.”

Sheriff Tom looked to where I was pointing, then said something both religious and sacrilegious at the same time. I have to admit, even for a reluctant Catholic such as myself, I was impressed.

We stepped down the first ramp we came to and hurried to the town hall. We had planning to do and lots of it. As we walked towards the center of town, Sheriff Tom grabbed his radio and called his deputies to the hall, instructing them to get the Mayor and as many of the people as they could to the hall immediately. The sun was setting, casting long shadows and as I walked through the little town, I hoped it wouldn’t be the last one these people got to see.

A deputy came zooming up in a golf cart and the Sheriff motioned me to get in. We made much better time and as we drove on I could see people starting to stream out of their homes and head towards the town hall. If I had to guess, there was a lot more than one thousand people here. I figured closer to two thousand. Too many to evacuate. We had to stand and fight.

Joseph Talluto

Taking It Back

The Sheriff pulled up to the town hall and jumped out, surprising me with his agility. I imagined in his youth Tom Harlan was a man to step around. I walked up behind him, working my way through the people who were standing in the hallways and outside. More than one of them gave me strange looks, likely in response to my being a stranger to the town and the fact that I was armed to the hilt. Zombie Killer. That’s me. Certified.

I moved into a large atrium that was doing double duty as a meeting room and the area was packed. I spotted my crew up on a landing of one of the four stairwells that led to the second floor. The mayor was talking animatedly to the Sheriff and the Sheriff was gesturing wildly. The two deputies squeezed themselves through the throng and positioned themselves on the stairs, blocking anyone from approaching the mayor.