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

“You should be. Now shut up, watch the show, and be ready to offer support. They’re in position. I liberated your .50 cal by the way. I wish you’d grabbed some more bullets. Next time, could you try and think that through a little better?”

“I took the whole case!”

“Vic, always with the excuses!” Marshall said.

“Sorry Marshall, next time there’s a zombie apocalypse, I’ll call ahead and order a pallet of ammunition. Anything else you’d like me to get?”

John’s voice came over the radio, his Australian accent thick “Would you shut it? Do I have to do all the work here?”

I watched the trees for any sign of wind. It was dry out and warm. Bullets would fly straight and true. It was a half-mile shot. Nine hundred yards. Thirty-two feet of bullet drop. My scope would compensate for twenty, I had to aim twelve feet above my target. Figuring the average man is just about six feet, I need to aim for his head as if he was three times taller. I made a couple practice sweeps. Line up the head on the bottom most cross in the scope. Make a note of something that is at the third cross down from the top. A rock, a line, a crack in the pavement, whatever. Adjust aim to put that pavement crack on the bottom lines of the scope. Inhale, inhale, inhale, exhale. I was ready.

Suddenly, Leo was directly in front of them on the other side of the gate. Her mic was open, I heard her say, “Can I help you gentlemen with something?”

I couldn’t hear the response, but Leo blurred away, behind a tree to the left. A shot rang out, and half a second later, the bolt cutters flew out of his hands. John was close to me, but far from them. Distance was hard to figure based on delay, but I’d guess he was somewhere around four hundred yards away. And if I knew John, he was using a 9mm pistol.

I returned the scope to my aim-point on the guy at the gate, when Leo blurred back in front of him. “I would leave now if I were you. There are at least three guns trained on you right now, and as you can see, we are good shots.” She blurred again, as the response came through her microphone.

All I heard was one word. The guy at the gate yelled, “Now!”

I was aimed well above his head, and I saw the men start to come out of the weeds on the far side of the road first. They were in a line advancing towards our fence, three or four deep and the line was at least a hundred yards wide. When I saw them, I started my long range shooting routine. Inhale three times, exhale and squeeze, lift and slide the bolt. At this distance it was vital to remain calm, and keep my heart rate under control.

I squeezed the trigger, and the man at the gate went down. It was nearly a second and a half between the searing pain of the rifle stock driving into my shoulder and when the man fell, the remnants of his head showering down on the road behind him. He had plenty of time to have moved, but the bullet traveled faster than the sound; he was dead before he heard the crack. The pain in my shoulder was a new twist, and an added pressure on my shooting. I was slower than normal, attempting to keep my heart rate down through the pain. These were shots I wouldn’t normally try, but what else could I do? Once the targets were moving, it was going to be too hard to lead them with a second and a half of flight time on the bullet.

“Leo. There are at least four-hundred of them. We need to fall back. John, move to the porch. Leo, move to the left, and take out that side, I don’t want them to circle the house. Vic, nice fucking shot! Hold fire, and be ready to get to the back porch if they get around us. What do you have besides the aught-six?” Marshall was directing the battle, I had no idea where he was, but if I was a betting man, I’d say he was on the right flank with his shotgun and something nasty up his sleeve.

“Marshall, copy on the hold fire, I have the rifle and my Sig. Low on ammo for both. Mom, do you have a radio? I’m going to need all the 30.06 you can carry, and do we have something semi-auto?” I said quietly.

The men had covered the fence, and were advancing up the front yard. They were moving slowly and carefully. It would take them three or four minutes to walk the distance. It was uphill, through thick grass. They’d be about out of adrenaline by the time they made it to three-hundred yards from the house. They’d be getting a little shaky. We were severely outnumbered, but we had very distinct, strong advantages. We were defending our home. We were the good guys. We were protecting a child, and we were dug in. They were in unfamiliar territory, trying to take ground from a determined, super human force. The zombies had the advantage of hiding out with humans. The smart ones looked human. They sounded human. I’ve only found one way to know if they’re zombies.

“Vic, you are in no condition to be shooting. You should be in bed. But you’re not going to listen. We have a black plastic gun with a curved clip, and a shotgun.”

“Thanks Mom, I’ll take it under advisement. Can you bring me the black plastic gun, every magazine you can find for it, and the box of 30.06 shells? Then go to Max, he’s in his bedroom hiding under the bed. I need him.”

I had debated this in the back of my head for months. I wanted no part in Max knowing what this was about. I didn’t want him to see what was about to happen. He was too young. God, I just wanted him to have a childhood. If I could take out the zombies, I think the humans would fold up. If I’d heard the truth at the gun club, my memory of that interrogation was kind of fuzzy, but I had to assume that the zombies had their families, too. If I could convince them that we could free their families, maybe we had a chance. I just don’t see, even with Leo and John’s abilities, how we could win against so many without someone getting hurt. Last time was a quarter of this number of people, and I ended up shot.

Mom came up the stairs carrying a grocery bag full of ammunition, the .22 carbine, and four magazines. Those mags were thirty rounds each, one hundred and fifty rounds in magazines, and maybe two-hundred more on top of that. I just couldn’t figure out how we had enough to win this.

I touched the mic and spoke, “Marshall, this is not a situation we’re going to win. I don’t want to kill all these people.”

“Tookes, every one of us will die to protect Max.” John spoke up.

“Vic, we’re not going to die. You got shot, I understand if your nerves are raw. We can take these guys.”

“I can’t kill humans if I don’t have to. I think I have an idea... We have at least two minutes until they’re in range. Give me that time.”

“Okay, Vic.”

“Right-o Tookes.”

“I trust you, Tookes,” answered Leo.

Mom and Max came out of Max’s room.

“Max, I need a favor. Can you tell me with words which of those guys out there has bad bugs? I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I’m trying very hard not to hurt the people without bugs.”

“There are lots, Daddy. They’re looking for me. Their bugs are calling for me. They’re too far away right now, but they have more bugs than me.”

“Which ones, Max? I need to know, and I need to know right now. What color shirts are they wearing?”

“Red shirt in the middle. He has the most bugs. I can’t squish them. But I can squish that bad guys.” As he spoke, a tall skinny man in blue jeans, a white button up shirt and a black jacket fell to the ground.

“Max, I need you to cover your ears with your arms. This will be loud; I’ll squish the red shirt guy’s bugs.”

Max covered his ears, and I lined up for a 380-yard shot. One advantage of having lived at this house, I know every inch of the property, and can make accurate distance judgments, down to the foot, all over the property. I could almost imagine yard lines like a football field. He was far enough out for the bullet to outrun the sound. I was in cover. But I needed help.