Kirk Allmond - What Zombies Fear - A Father's Quest

“Max monster, what are you going to do with these guys?”

“Dad, they’re not bad guys, the bugs make them do mean things. We shouldn’t kill them. I can make them walk inside.” And with that, he did. They walked to the double doors in double-file lines, and went straight in the building and sat down on the floor in a circle with their legs crossed. It reminded me of a morbid recreation of ‘circle time’ at his daycare, where all the kids would sit in a circle while the teacher read to them. I pulled the doors shut, ran to the back door of the truck where I’d dumped my tool bag out, and grabbed a hand full of zip ties and a sharpie.

I zip tied the doors closed, and wrote ‘30+ inside, building worthless, try the hardware store’, on the doors in big bold letters with a sharpie.

“Hop in your seat little man,” I said, “We’re heading for Gramma’s house!”

“Yay!” Max said.

I brought the firearms up into the front seat with me, my pistol still in my coat pocket, the rifle on the floorboard between the driver side door and the floor, and the AK47 propped on its barrel, leaned against the dash in the passenger foot well.

I started the truck, and as the engine roared to life, I realized that even with the loss of Candi, the probable loss of all of my friends, my job, my life how it was, I was grateful. “Max,” I said, “I love you. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

I looked up into the rear-view mirror, Max was already fast asleep.

Driving back up the hill to Route 15, I made the left past where I’d blown the zombie known as Penelope’s brains out. I saw the large blood spot on the road in the dim light of my one headlight, but there was no corpse. There’s no way anything could have survived a point blank .44 magnum round to the head. Someone, or something, must have dragged the body off the road. There was something else around.

Not wanting to waste any time, I nudged the brush guard on the truck against one of the cars, and slowly accelerated. With a growl, the loaded down, v8 powered SUV pushed the car backwards into the guard rail. I backed up, jockeyed for position, and pushed the other car back towards the guard rail, this one screeched sideways, I had to back up and push it the last couple of feet with my bumper guard centered between the passenger side doors.

There was just enough room to squeeze through the cars, once across the bridge I was in Virginia! I had miles and miles of farmland before reaching Leesburg, Virginia. The city was home to Dulles International Airport, as well as three major federal government facilities. Given how the rest of the trip has gone, I needed to find a way around Leesburg. Route 15 runs right through the middle of the city. I turned on the display, and zoomed out the GPS. Just before the city, I could hang a left on a small state road, and bypass most of the city. It took me miles out of my way, but I’d encountered resistance at every obvious point along the way, and couldn’t afford any more delays. I set the GPS end-point a few miles south of Leesburg, and lined up alternate routes, trying to familiarize myself with the back-country roads as I drove past mile after mile of horse farms.

After about an hour, the GPS told me to - Turn left in one thousand feet- I eased off the gas and slowed down some. This was a tiny gravel road. Faithful in my GPS, I made the left and headed down the gravel/dirt track. Off the main road and in the heavy trees, I felt safer turning on the roof mounted off-road lights. Four high power halogen lights over my head lit up the road for several hundred feet in front of me. I almost felt like whistling as I headed down the road, feeling confident. 2.4 miles later, I turned right onto a paved road, and shortly after that I entered a subdivision of McMansions. Two acre lots, most of which were covered by the footprint of the half-million dollar, four thousand square foot houses. Many of the houses had lights on; a couple of them had lumber nailed over the bottom floor doors and windows. One of them had a whole pile of dead zombies in the front yard, and I think I saw someone up in a second story window. I suppose it could have been a zombie up there, but I’ve always had a feeling that guy was a survivor.

“Turn left, two-hundred feet,” sounded off from the truck’s speakers, and I put on my turn signal. As I made my left, I saw a woman running out of a house. I slowed to a stop, with my lights pointed towards the house. She turned, and drew a machete from a holster on her hip. A man came stumbling out of the house.

“Max! Wake up, cover your ears!” I slammed the truck in park, hit the automatic window button, picked up the rifle from beside the door, and hopped out. I braced inside the door of the truck and lined up the crosshairs on the target.

“Ma’am, get down!” I yelled.

“No!” she yelled back, “This one is mine!” The zombie closed the distance and she brought the machete down, like swinging an ax, splitting its skull in half. It collapsed in a heap in the grass; she pulled her machete free, wiped it off and holstered it like a sword.

She turned to me, and started walking towards me.

“That’s far enough,” I said quietly, “How do I know you’re not one of them?”

10. Skirting the City

The woman came to a halt a few feet in front of me, the door of the truck and my rifle between us. She was not threatening, standing with her empty palms outward. She was wearing a tan tank top with the logo of a setting sun over a pile of skulls, with a green flag in the foreground, black cargo pants, and a backpack with a patch of the same logo. She had a pair of thin batons sticking out from the small of her back, and a large machete strapped to her thigh. The machete, which was more like a sword in her hands, looked just like the ones Alice used in one of those Resident Evil movies. Her long dark hair was pinned up in a bun, with one strand of hair hanging down.

“My name is Leo,” she said. “The zombie there was my mate, Kyle; I owed it to him to do it myself.” Her accent was fairly thick, Australian or maybe New Zealand.

“I understand,” I replied. “What are you doing outside? You’re the only living person I’ve seen in three states.”

“We were running, looking for a place to hold up for the night. Kyle got bit by one we missed.”

“Daddy, she doesn’t have bugs. She’s nice. We should take her with us,” I heard from the back of the car.

“My son, Max,” I said “Max, this is Leo. I’m Victor Tookes, but everyone calls me Tookes.”

“Leo, I don’t know what your plan is, but we’re headed towards a farm house about an hour south of here. It was built in the 1700's, it’s defensible, it’s well provisioned, and we have plenty of room.” I continued, “Max likes you, and given how screwed up our day has been today, I’m inclined to trust his judgment.”

“My other mate is still in that house; let me go get him, would it be okay if he came along, too?” She asked.

“Fine, but we have to move, I need to get there as soon as possible; I have family there.”

Just then, a man came walking out of the house, dressed much as I was. Black and gray camo cargo pants, boots, T-shirt and vest.

“John,” Called Leo. “This is Tookes. He’s headed down to a safe spot in Virginia, it’s just him and his son; I think he could use our help, he seems pretty clueless. He was going to waste a bullet on old dead John there”

“Bloody Americans,” John said. “Always shooting first and thinking later.”

“Better than you Aussies, you know the difference between Australians and yogurt? After 200 years, yogurt developed culture”

“HA! Leo, I’m gonna like this bloke,” said John.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you both. My wife Candi is in the back of the truck, she was shot in an ambush just above Frederick, Maryland.” Talking about it brought it all back to the front, and once again I was wracked with guilt and sorrow.