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

I considered pausing where I was. I considered running every direction, no matter which way I went, the stumble off my perfect path led to discovery. I charged the zombie, knowing he would go for my throat, at the last second I ducked, bringing one machete overhand into his chest and the other from the side into his gut hoping to take out both lungs. He screamed as I hit him, and I saw the nearest three zombies start running my way. One of them was fast.

I let go of both Kukri’s and rolled behind the corpse of the third. The alarm raised, I drew both guns and fired both barrels at the fastest zombie, hitting him half a dozen times in the chest and head. His momentum carried him into me, where he collapsed dead on top of me. As I fell backwards, I shot the two closest zombies, winging one in the cheek and hitting the other in the chin, causing his bottom jaw to vaporize, although I think I saw the entire bottom jaw fly off.

Bloody cheek and no-jaw kept coming, while I struggled to roll out from under the corpse on top of me, by the time I was free, one of them had a hand on my leg and actually helped drag me free. I rolled over, twisting my ankle and fired both guns into bloody cheek’s head, covering myself with yet more zombie bits. One last shot ended no-jaw’s second life, and for a moment I was in the clear.

I dropped both magazines and reloaded both guns, wishing I was as good as John, or as fast as Leo. What good was being able to see how decisions would turn out, if I was physically unable to follow the plan? It seemed the farther up a decision tree I went; the harder it was to pull it off.

I sent decisions out in every direction, scanning for the next best move. By the time I’d gotten up and reloaded, the remaining nine zeds had gathered and were coming at me from across the football field. My only move was to retreat. I turned and ran, as fast as I could on a twisted ankle, for my grassy knoll. Through the waist high grass, I once again scanned through my options, following the shadow to the horse fence generator. When I got there I laid down on my belly and waited about thirty seconds before I flipped the ‘on’ switch on the solar battery. All five of my pipe bombs went off at the exact instant the nine of them stepped into the creek bed. It was a huge explosion, the shrapnel mowed the grass down in a fifty-foot radius, and seven of the zombies were reduced to mush.

I rolled over to Sammie, laid my cheek on the stock, and squeezed the trigger. Levered the bolt, exhaled, squeezed, and watched the last ones head evaporate. Then I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath. After a couple of seconds, I checked my watch, 10:40. I had twenty more minutes to do this. With a heave, I rolled to my feet and trotted down towards the stadium. That was too easy. That can’t have been this Watley. I was worried about jinxing myself with positive thoughts.

Once again at the stadium fence, I switched to aura view. Not a single zombie in the mix. Where was Watley? This smelled even more like a trap. I called one of the humans over.

“Hey... You!” I said as quietly as I could, trying to keep my voice from carrying.

A young girl, about fifteen looked up and saw me. She looked afraid, I put my guns down on the grass and knelt down, palms out. I motioned her over one more time, and she looked around to see if anyone was watching.

She came slowly over and said, “Go away. Get help, they’re waiting for four people. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I heard Watley talking about four humans who have been giving him trouble. He’s super pissed about them. I saw him fly off earlier today, but he’s never gone this long, so I bet he’ll be back any time.”

“I’m one of those four. I’m here alone; I killed all the guards, all that shooting and the explosion was me.” I said.

“You killed fifteen of them? How?”

“I’m pretty tough,” I said.

“You’re pretty crazy, dude. There aren’t fifteen; there’s at least fifty of them. The ones out here were the ones Watley didn’t like. The real guards are in the school watching.”

I checked my watch, ten minutes until the cavalry showed up. It was time to spring this trap.

I pulled my multi-tool out and started cutting the fence wires one at a time.

“Go tell everyone to get out and head to that farm house. I have backup there. We’re not playing this the way the zombies want. Your fathers and brothers and husbands are safe at my house. Watley sent an army to my house to kill me. Now I’m going to kill him, but not before we get you all to safety,” I said.

She just stood there.

“Go!” I yelled, “Go right now!”

She ran off and started gathering people and pointing as I finished cutting the wire. I stood up and ran over to the dead zombie with Leo’s kukri’s still sticking out of him. I removed them, wiped them off on his shirt and stuck them in the holsters on my back.

The humans started streaming through my hole in the fence, running for the house. I stayed still until the last of them were out of the fence and checked my watch. 11:07 pm. They’d have gotten my note. Right on cue, I heard the massive combine fire up. Marshall was right on cue, and that meant John was at Sammie.

“Watley!” I yelled. What came out wasn’t just a yell. I’m pretty sure Mom heard me all the way back at the farm. This was no human voice; it carried through, “Come out here you fucking pussy! You want my son! You’re gonna have to go through me! Come fight me you dumb ass fuck!” My voice carried not just through the normal sound waves, but through something else entirely.

A very large, very fat man landed directly in front of me, shaking the ground. “You know my name; it’s only fair I know yours.”

“My friends call me Tookes. You may call me sir.”

Shadows shot out from both of us. They went in every direction, thousands of possibilities between the two of us. My brain was on fire, I was thinking so fast, intentions were forming and disappearing. Every step I made he countered. Every plan I thought of, he was there first. Every action was matched by his reaction. In the space of a second I played out ten thousand possible attacks. The best outcome was stalemate, before it dawned on me that in addition to being able to fly, Watley had the same ability as me.

26. Watley

I doubled the number of attack options I was sending out. He kept up easily. I tried deciding on one attack and changing my mind at the last minute, but this ability wasn’t fooled, as soon as I changed my mind, a new shadow shot out and was intercepted by one from him. This was not going to work. I realized I couldn’t out think him, I had to not think.

Abruptly, I cleared my mind, concentrating only on Max. All the lines of possibility reversed back into me. I saw the slightest hint of confusion cross Watley’s face.

As he considered his options for attack, I let my heart drive my actions; my need to protect Max, to make the world safe for him drove my machetes forward, impaling both swords in his chest. Pressing downwards on the handles, the curved weapons exited through his shoulder blades, puncturing both lungs, and rendering both arms limp and inoperable.

Entirely on instinct, I wind milled around and swung both weapons at his neck. By the time I spun around, Watley was gone. He was hovering about fifty feet up in the air. I watched as his arms started to twitch, then he rotated them at the shoulders, wind milling them to stretch out.

I was so angry. I was angry that I was here, risking my life. I should have been in my nice air conditioned office. I should have been yelling at one of my employees for showing up late for the fourth time this month. Thanks to this piece of shit zombie, all that was lost, my wife was dead, my little boy was in constant danger, I was some kind of mutant, and I slept with a loaded pistol and two extra magazines. “Watley, you too afraid to fight me on the ground? You fucking pussy. How stupid are you that you can’t even manage to capture a little boy?” I goaded him, trying to make him angry. I wanted him as angry as I was; only I wanted him to make mistakes.