6
The next morning I woke up again with the sun. It was a partly sunny day and the sun peeked in and out of the clouds. I checked outside through the window, but the dog wasn't around. I made coffee, and then I went out for a better look.
There she was, not too far away in the grass. She picked up her head when she heard me come out of the house, and she sniffed the air. I went back inside to the pantry and retrieved another can of stew.
This time she came in fairly fast after I emptied the food into the bowl. She was starting to get used to me already. Or maybe she just liked our stew.
When mom awoke I was outside drinking my coffee while the dog lay in the grass about ten feet away
"She's getting used to you," Mom said from the door.
"She's getting used to being fed."
"She's a good dog. She'll come in useful around here."
"Yes I hope she stays."
"Oh she'll stay. Come in here, I want to talk to you." I left the dog outside, and sat down at the kitchen table
"I want you to go back to the boatyard, and get as much gear out of the boat as you can."
"We're abandoning the boat?"
"For now. We always know where it is if we need it, but I think that we'd do better here. We can get your grandmother's garden in shape, and grow as much food as we can for the winter."
"Okay Mom." It sounded as good as a plan as any. So I finished my coffee and packed the truck with some gear and the semi-auto. Outside the dog was looking at me like I was leaving it, but when I got in the truck without mom, who was watching me from the door, she settled down. I made my way down the drive and out on the road towards Slaughter beach.
In the daylight the trip took half as much time. I drove through the vacant streets to the beach in just a half hour. When I got to the boatyard and to the boat I realized that someone had moved the bodies. At least five bodies should be laying on the gravel parking lot that bordered the creek.
Not one corpse was evident. I parked the F-250 down by the boat, and after looking around for a bit, I got the needed supplies and stowed them in the cab. I started to get some crazy ideas. What if they weren't dead? Or maybe they came back to life. I kept the automatic slung over my shoulder.
On one of my trips back to the truck I noticed that someone was standing on the stairs leading into the boatyard's office. He was older, maybe around fifty, and he was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. That was definitely a good sign. I emptied the last of the gear in the truck as he headed for me.
I cradled the semi-auto in my arms as he slowly closed the one hundred foot distance between us. He had long gray hair and he was kind of on the fat side.
"Hello," he yelled when he got within speaking range.
"Hello," I answered back.
"My names John McAllister. Can I talk to you?" He asked with a slight Delmarva accent.
"Sure. My name is Ed King."
"Are you the one who had the run in with those zombies?" He stopped when he got about ten yards away.
"Zombies?"
"Well, whatever you want to call those God forsaken bastards."
"Yeah I guess that was me. I'm sorry if I caused you any problems."
"Nonsense. They kind of had it coming to them, the way they attacked you. I guess we should have taken care of them ourselves, but they were our neighbors once."
"We?"
"Yeah me and my two buddies. They were a little scared to meet you. They figured that you were some kind of a crazed killer. They didn't see what happened the other night; I did." He turned around and yelled back to the office. "Come on out. It's okay." With that, an even older man and a young boy came out of the office. The boy couldn't have been more then seventeen. The man was about seventy.
"What did you do with the bodies?"
"We weren't digging any graves. We put them in an old boat that was docked down there," he pointed down to the row of docked boats. "We towed it out into the bay last night and set fire to them. Gave them a kind of Viking funeral."
"What's the deal with these 'zombies?" I asked as the boy and the other man walked down to us.
"I've heard on the radio that everyone has got 'em." John answered.
"Are they always this dangerous?"
"No, usually they're not, unless you get between them and some food or a woman. That was your mistake the other night. They must have spotted your woman."
"Unless they're homos," the boy added.
"Homos?"
"Well, it appears that they still keep their sexual proclivities even after they become zombies."
"Gay zombies?"
"It's a brave new world Ed. But I heard that they don't live too long. It's hard to attempt a rape on a man and come away with your skull intact." He turned around and looked at the boy and the old man. "This here is Henry, and the boy's name is Luke. Guys, this is Ed." I nodded my head to Luke and shook Henry's hand.
"That's a nice rifle you got there," Henry mentioned as he nodded to the gun.
"Yeah, it's some kind of semi-automatic," I said sounding like I knew something about it.
"Can I see it?"
I was a little hesitant to hand the man my weapon, but if they were hostile, they would have attacked me already. "Sure," I said as I handed it to him.
Henry took the rifle and aimed it in the air. "This is a Ruger ranch rifle. This is a great rifle."
I shook my head to show that I didn't know what he was talking about.
"It's what they call a Mini-14. Based on the M-14 that the military used back in Korea. What's it chambered for?"
Again I shook my head. Henry pulled the clip out of the gun and slipped one of the bullets out of it. ".223. I should have known. That's the same round as they use in the M-16. Damn nice rifle." He put the bullet back in the clip, the clip back in the rifle, and handed them all to me. "You should have used it to deal with those zombies. You would have had less trouble."
"He didn't have any trouble at all," John interjected. "He took care of all six of them by himself."
"I don't understand about these ...zombies," I professed. "What is the deal with them?"
