Joseph Talluto - White Flag of the Dead

“Thank you.” I said to the assembled mass. “I am sorry to have awakened some of you but I need a couple of favors and have not been able to find anyone to help.” I looked around and there were many frowns looking back at me. Good. “I am going on a raid in a couple of hours and need a babysitter for my son Jake, here. Second, I need a couple of good organizers to take over the food storage and distribution. We are hoping to have a working pantry this afternoon, so anyone familiar with food storage and such, please let me know. Also,” I added, “We need help with the burial of those we lost yesterday in the fighting. The north field is the designated graveyard, and the men there could use help.”

The looks around the hall got less hostile and two girls no older than thirteen raised their hands to watch Jake. I got two more women to organize the pantry, then went back down to my room, after thanking them for their assistance. Several men got dressed and headed down to help with the burials. I thanked them as well and I reminded myself that we needed to have a meeting to discuss the rules of the community.

At 11:00, the two girls came down to my room, and I introduced them again to Jakey. I could tell they were experienced baby-sitters when one of them sat down immediately to play with him while the other checked out where his supplies were. I put on my backpack and extra magazine pouch for the carbine. I had a double magazine holder for my SIG, and put on my knife as well. I felt like I was gearing up for battle, and in all seriousness, I guess I was. There was no second place winner when it came to battling the undead.

I picked up my rifle at the door and said goodbye to the girls. I smiled and waved at Jake, and he gave me a smile in return. He was almost at the point where he could sit up by himself, and was trying it out as I left.

I went back to the garage and met up with Tommy and Duncan and the rest. Everyone was ready and there was quite a variety of weapons, ranging from crowbars to AR-15’s. We had a wheel barrel filled with makeshift sacks, and some backpacks. Duncan noticed my pack was full. “What’s in the pack?” He wanted to know.

“Some food and water, and emergency supplies” I said.

Tommy was curious. “How come? We don’t plan on being out longer than three hours.”

“Never hurts to be prepared. If it goes down hard and we get separated or trapped, I want to be able to hold out as long as possible. Why, you think I’m nuts?” I asked sincerely.

In response, both he and Duncan left the room to get their own packs, and several of the other men as well. I guess it was a good idea after all.

When the rest of the group came back, we headed out into the day. Immediately, we could see several zombies wandering around, and they began moving in our direction. I motioned for Tommy and Duncan to follow me, waving the rest back. “Come on, let’s get to them before they bunch!” They quickly followed and we ran up to the first zombie. She was a tall female, stumbling slowly forward, but she increased her pace when we got closer. Her milky eyes locked on me, and she raised her hands to grab and tear. That was when Duncan nailed her in the gut with his pipe, and when she doubled over from the impact, I brought my crowbar up in an uppercut swing which slammed into her head, imbedding the hook into her skull. She immediately dropped to the ground, and I ripped the bar out of her head. Tommy was already running to the next one, a fat guy with rolls of grey flesh swaying as he stumbled towards us. When he came within reach, Tommy slammed him in the head with his straight bar, knocking the fat man to the ground. The zombie seemed stunned but he was still alive as he slowly tried to right himself. When he got to his knees, Duncan was already there, and pounded Fatso on the back of his head, cracking his skull and putting him down for good. I moved past them both and kicked a smaller zombie in the chest, knocking him to the grass. I stepped onto his chest and held him down as I crushed his skull with the chisel end. The last two were dispatched the same way, and we jogged back to the group who had watched us take out the zombies.

“Why did you guys run to them?” one of the men wanted to know.

I answered him. “It just occurred to me. Think of it this way. One on one, we can take any zombie out there. They’re stupid, they’re slow, and don’t really think outside the box. But when they come at you in twos, threes, or fours, then you have trouble. If your weapon sticks or you drop it, you can get to your backup. If you have two on you, you’re screwed. If you keep them from their greatest strength, which is attacking in force, then they can be dealt with pretty easily. Just keep your head and smash in theirs.” Anticipating the next question, I said “And we didn’t shoot them because shots attract them like politicians to money. They can hear better than we can and their sense of smell is better, too. We learned that in the gas station.” I told them about the woman smelling the door, looking for us.

Several nods occurred around the group as they took this in. Tommy, Duncan and I cleaned off our weapons and moved up to the front of the crowd. We headed towards the closest houses to the school, figuring to start there and just work our way down the street. I didn’t expect to find much, but we didn’t have much choice. If we went through everything people brought with them, we had two days at best.

We approached the first house slowly, looking in the windows and trying to see if it was occupied. I assigned four men to watch the street, and three more to stations outside the door. I figured to lure any zombies outside where we could control the killing and have room to move. I went up to the door and tried the knob. I expected it to be locked and it was. I knocked on the door and waited, listening intently. I didn’t hear any movement, so I worked my crowbar on the door, easing it open as quietly as I could.

I pushed the door open and stepped back. Nothing came out at me so I poked my head in. It was neatly furnished, and I could see no signs of struggle or violence. I immediately thought that this was a household that went straight to one of the state centers which was subsequently overrun. Poor choice there.

I moved into the home, Tommy and Duncan coming in behind me and spreading out. Duncan moved to the kitchen and immediately began checking the pantry and cabinets. There seemed to be a decent store of dry goods, so he went out and got a sack from one of the other men. He filled it and sent the man back to the school, to drop it off and come back to get some more.

I went through the house, looking for anything of use, and came out with linens and towels and a good supply of toilet paper. All this went to the wheelbarrow and back to the school. I found the basement stairs and went down slowly, whistling softly to stir any zombie that might be down there. I got no response, so I kept going. The basement held the usual bunch of junk, although I did find a small area that held a little promise. There was a box of pictures and mementos, and it seemed the owner of the house may have been a vet of some sort. Digging deeper, I found a cherry wood case that held a pristine Colt 1911. A little searching found an old box of shells, and I figured the old gun had not been fired much, if at all. I tucked the box and ammo into my pack, to give to another member of the community, since I was comfortable with my SIG.

Finding nothing else, I went back upstairs. Tommy and Duncan were waiting for me, and I joined them on the lawn.

“Anything good?” Tommy asked.

“I found an old. 45 and some ammo.” I said, flipping a thumb towards my pack. “I know you guys have your Glocks. I’ll give it to someone familiar with guns.”