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

On the way out of the building, I grabbed the liquor bottles and matches off the bar, and headed out to the truck to check on Max. He was sleeping soundly in his seat, so I took the opportunity to really study him. He was so big, and yet so small. I remembered the time when he could fit in one arm, and how I used to carry him everywhere like a football. I hated leaving him here, in the truck, sleeping, but it seemed less dangerous than taking him into a building that probably had zombies in it. With all of my “Twin Peaks” loot dropped off in the back of the truck, I left the AK47, and went across the street to the hardware store, in search of a few more items needed for my plan.

As I walked across the street, I thought to myself, ‘Tookes, you idiot. You should have asked Max how many were in here,’ followed by a quick headshake and ‘ what in the hell am I thinking. He’s three and a half years old.’

07. The Potomac Crossing

The hardware store looked deserted. I had a moment of terror when a zombie in the apartment upstairs saw or smelled me, and started banging on the glass. I dove behind a wood pile and watched him beat his fists against the glass, silently praying that the glass was sturdy enough to hold, and that there weren’t any others up there.

Out of morbid curiosity, and perhaps a desire to know more about these creatures, I watched for a moment. Even though I was completely hidden from view and motionless, he kept staring at me, as if he could see me through the wood. I crawled down the length of the woodpile, low on my stomach. I made it to the end of the wall of wood without making a sound, and eased my head around to look at the window. The old man-turned-zombie was still staring at the other side of the woodpile, slowly banging his fists on the window. There was blood running down the window now, and I wondered how long he would say there, banging away on the window.

With the zombie distracted by looking at my last known whereabouts, it was fairly easy to sneak up on the side of the building to the back door. The doorknob was locked, but there was no dead bolt. My family had a doorknob just like this when I was a kid. ‘Back then, if I turned really hard, the door would pop open,’ I thought, as I wrenched down on the doorknob. It was sturdier than I remembered, but ultimately gave way and didn’t make a huge amount of noise.

The door led to the store-room of the hardware shop, which was pretty much just like the rest of the place; floor to ceiling shelves, piled high with dusty old junk. To this day, I still love dusty old junk. Walking through the storage room led me to the store proper, where I headed first for the plumbing section. After searching for a minute or two, I found what I was looking for; a section of PVC pipe, end caps, glue and primer. Down a couple of rows was the paint section, where I found aluminum powder and iron oxide for mixing up metallic paints. One bag of each in hand, I needed to find one more isle of the old store. I peered around the dim room; the only light was what shone in through the dusty windows. I was looking for a hobby or toy section. BB’s, rubber cement, three bags of old army men, and model rocket igniters, and I was off to the front counter to find nine volt batteries, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes, if I could find them.

I’d quit smoking a few years before, but today seemed like a good day to start again. I unlocked the front door of the store, let myself out, and beat feet for the truck. Max was still sleeping soundly. All in all, I’d been gone less than ten minutes, but it seemed like hours. I opened the back door of the truck and reached for my tool bag. By now it was almost dark, so I spread out my loot on the front seat and started working.

The large bags of army men were the first; I tossed all of them into the back seat, except the parachute men. Max would have fun playing with them. I emptied the six ounce bag of iron oxide powder and the two ounce bag of aluminum powder into one of the army man bags, and shook it up to thoroughly mix the two powders into the super flammable mixture called thermite. I said a silent thanks to those TV Myth guys for showing me how much “fun” thermite could be. From the tool bag I pulled out my hack saw, and cut the PVC pipe into roughly six inch segments, and glued an end cap on the end of each one. I poured the powdered metal mixture out of the army man bag, and into each of the eight capped PVC sections. Next, into the pipe was the ignition end of the model rocket starters, followed by BB’s right to the top. I bent the wires from the igniters over the side of the pipe and glued the top cap on, pinning the wires to the side of the pipe.

The next step was to coat the outside of each pipe in rubber cement, and roll it in BB’s. Each was heavier than I expected. I thought I’d be able to get away with just one parachute per pipe, but from the weight, I was going to need closer to three per pipe. I had nine parachutes total, which gave me three completed incendiary devices, and five partially done. The last step was to rubber cement a nine volt battery to the ‘tip’ of the pipe, and bend the ignition wires up and over the poles of the battery. I covered the terminals of the battery with electrical tape from my tool bag for safety until I was ready to use them.

It was now full dark, and time to put my plan into action. I woke Max up, and told him that I had to go take care of some bad men, and that he should stay here and try to go back to sleep. “Max, you might hear some loud noises, and you might be afraid, and you’ve been so brave. I need you to be brave just a little while longer. Soon enough, we’ll be back on the road, and I’m hoping to make it to Gramma’s house late, late tonight. Can you be strong for me while I go Max-Monster?”

“Yep. It’s sleeping time, Daddy. I love you. Do you have my Binky?”

“I don’t, buddy, it’s packed in your suitcase, but I promise when we get to Gramma’s house, I’ll get it out for you.”

“Okay. I love you, Dad” He said.

“I love you too, buddy, see you in a few minutes.” I tried to sound confident, but I really had no idea if this was going to work. I might end up dead, with Max out here by himself, at a strip club in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by zombies, two hours from any place he’s ever been. Failure was not an option here.

I grabbed the pack of smokes and lighter, replaced the strap on my 30.06, and stowed the AK in the truck, where I also emptied out my tool bag. I carefully loaded my tool bag with the pipes, and set off with a pocket full of bullets, my reloaded rifle and magazines, and the pistol in my vest pocket. It was a beautiful night, warm, but not too humid, and not a cloud in the sky. The full moon was rising behind me

Behind the strip club were some woods, and I knew that the river and bridge were near there. When I got to the river, I followed it under the bridge, and across to a rocky area on the other side of the bridge. The bridge was very high; the worst flaw in my plan was making it from the shore and up the side of the mountain to the bridge itself.

I lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply. God, how I missed smoking. One more drag, and I set my cigarette down on the rocks, turned around, and lined up one of the zombies on the bridge in my scope.

I inhaled three times, exhaled once, and said, “Candi, I’ll see you again one day. I hope that day isn’t today; I still have work to do here. I love you,” as I squeezed the trigger. I didn’t even wait to see if my shot was true before I was off and running.

08. Battle at the Potomac

Running back to the bridge was more like hopping from rock to rock. I jumped and leaped for all I was worth, trying not to leave any tracks in the sandy mud that made up the bank of the river. I wanted the tracks to lead them towards the rock pile. On my second hop, I heard my bullet hit home, and knew I’d hit the zombie. I heard the impact, and following collapse against the railing of the bridge. Something metal hit the bridge railing with a loud gong sound, and then two or three hops later, I heard the zombie hit the ground two hundred feet below the bridge. That was the first of many strokes of luck I would need tonight.