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

“John, I’m going for the truck.”

“Tookes, that’s insane. We’ve stalled this group so much that the last wave has caught up to them. There are easily twelve thousand zeds out there.”

“That’s why I have to go. I have to thin them out.” I took off running, by God I hate running. Always so much running in this new life.

When I started the truck, a big black puff of smoke rose out of the exhaust. The truck roared to life, and I buckled my seat belt while I waited the few seconds for the air pressure to build enough for me to release the brakes. I pressed the clutch, put the rig straight into second gear, the first gear was only for really heavy loads. The cab rocked as I let the clutch out and smashed the gas pedal. Clutch, flick the switch under the gearshift, skipping third gear, straight to fourth and floored the truck. The torque twisted the cab again, and the truck lurched up towards thirty miles an hour. Sixth gear, forty-five miles an hour. Eighth, sixty miles per hour

“Here I come, John.” I flicked on the overhead lights, mostly used for parking the big truck at a dock at night, lighting up the nearly endless horde. I dropped the plow blade, and pulled the horn on the truck as I smashed into the leading edge of the zombies. Parts flew. Bits of gore smashed the window, cracking it. A head lodged between the cab and the side mirror, the zombie’s mouth clicking, trying to bite me. Zombies flew fifty feet on either side of the truck, smashed to bits; the truck lurched over the scraps left in the road. “Come on tires, hold for me.” I pleaded. The sheer mass of zombies had slowed me down to about thirty miles per hour; I shifted down into fourth gear and smashed the gas, pushing through the crowd, that’s when I felt the first tire give, followed by three more in the back.

My traction all but gone, I tried to steer towards the edge of the crowd, hoping maybe I could jump, but I had no steering control, I slammed to a stop in the middle of the huge horde of zombies. I knew this would happen. I’d planned for it, all the while hoping that I’d take out a few more of them. There were zombies as far as I could see in front of me, and they were closing in on the lane I’d cleared behind me. I’d taken out a pretty good clump. Not bad.

I pulled my Sig and a 9mm. The nine had seventeen rounds and my Sig had twelve. Under the seat I had my old aluminum bat stashed. I knew I wasn’t going to make it out of this, but I wasn’t done yet. Strapped and ready, I opened the door of the truck. As I did I accessed that part of my voice that I’d found at the high school, yelling “I love you Max. Be a good boy. Listen to Gramma and Uncle Marshall. John, it’s been good, brother. Marshall, take care of Mom and Max for me. Leo. I love you.”

I smashed the first two zombies reaching for the cab door, and jumped out of the truck.

Max’s small voice suddenly filled my head “Daddy, No!” I looked up and saw him standing on the hillside three hundred feet away in the fading light, his unique light blue glow seeming to light up the area around him. He was reaching for me, but there was a sea of zombies between us. I swung the bat for all I was worth, cracking zombies. After a couple of feet, they started to close in on me from behind. I threw the bat forward and drew both guns, running towards Max shooting both guns in front of me to clear a path. I’d made it about forty feet when I felt the first hand on my leg, and I went down in a heap, feeling teeth clamp down on my leg. I kicked the thing as hard as I could, caving its skull in. I scrambled, crawling, firing the last of the Sig, I tossed it aside, and started smashing zombies with my fist. The slide on the Glock clicked back, as I jammed the gun into the mouth of one trying to bite me.

More hands grabbed me, dragging me down to the pavement; I felt the excruciating agony of a dozen mouths tearing into my flash. I’d made it about a quarter of the way, and killed an additional thirty or forty zombies. I failed.

“I’m sorry, Max, I love you.” I swore to myself I wasn’t going to scream as they ate me. I failed at that, too. I could see Max up on the hill.

40. The End.

The last thing I heard was Max’s voice, much stronger than before, but still his beautiful voice. “NO, you bad guys! Let. Go. Of. My. Daddy!” At the last word, he stomped his foot. It sounded like all the air was sucked out of a room. At the same time, a wave of pale blue energy shot out from him in every direction, rolling over the undead horde. The second the energy wave rolled over a zombie, they crumpled where they stood. I felt a serene calm as the pale blue light washed over me, not even a hint of a breeze, but the zombies on me were ripped off, tossed into the air by the giant wave, landing with wet thuds on the pavement around me.

I woke up in the downstairs bedroom next to Leo. My wounds healed, her head wound was closed, and her arm was out of its sling. I felt amazing. My back wasn’t even sore. I can’t remember the last time I woke up without a sore back.

I looked over at her, sleeping soundly. She was so beautiful in the morning sunlight that streamed through the window. She woke up, looked over at me and smiled. I kissed her good morning. She got out of bed, and as she stumbled towards the bathroom, I took a moment in bed to grab my phone to check my email. Then I remembered there were no phones. There was no more email. I still took a moment to admire Leo’s beautiful figure as she walked into the light of the bathroom.

“Hey Leo, I have a question.”

“Yes, Vic?” She asked, turning around. She was naked; the sight of her almost made me completely lose my train of thought.

“What happened to you out there in the back field yesterday?” I asked after a pause.

“I tripped over a bloody rabbit. The damn thing bolted out of the grass as I was running, I swerved, but caught it with my toe and I went flying, hit my head on a rock and blacked out.”

We both got up out of bed and got dressed, both starving like we hadn’t eaten in months. As Leo was tying her shoes and I was pulling my shirt on, Max burst into the room.

“Daddy! I killed the bad-guys. They were biting you and I told them to let go but they wouldn’t.”

“You did great, Max monster. I’m sorry you had to do that. I’m sorry you had to see that.” I said, hugging him more tightly than I ever had before.

We walked out to breakfast, where Mom, Marshall, and John were already seated.

“Glad to see you two up and around. Leo, I got seven-ninety-three!” John bragged.

“You beat me, I only had six-ninety-seven,” replied Leo.

We all had a good laugh about their competition, until Marshall spoke.

“A thousand fourteen for me. Thanks Vic for pinning them up for me!”

We all roared with laughter. Here we were together as a family, safe. For now.

Epilogue.

Life was so different now, but it was also the same. I was in love with a beautiful woman. It was different, but the same. My son was happy. Life wasn’t easy before, and it wasn’t easy now, but we all worked together to live, to love, and to enjoy the precious gifts we’ve been given.

That’s the story of how this all started. I’m fifty-two years old, but I haven’t aged a day in the last twelve years. Leo is forty, and still looks exactly as I met her on her twenty-eighth birthday. Max is almost sixteen, and looks like a normal teenage boy. I’m not sure if or when he’ll stop aging, because I don’t really have any idea what’s happened to me. He has normal teenage boy thoughts, and normal teenage boy dreams. Marshall and John are similar to us.

There are just over four hundred people living in Sharonton. The entire town showed up for my mother’s funeral last month, she was seventy-eight when she died peacefully in her sleep. At the wake celebrating her life, someone voted to name our settlement; it was unanimously agreed that it should be named after her. I think she’d accomplished her purpose and was ready to rest. She fed this entire community for the first year and a half, until the crops were in and we’d gathered enough cows and goats. She’d found and caught our first pair of chickens after we recovered the first chicken coops, and we now have over two thousand hens on the chicken farm a mile downwind. She founded our first school, from which Max was about to graduate.