Rancho Blasto

Scavengers

CJ Cupp

Part 1

“Dad, we’re gonna’ starve up here”.

A quick look out the windows confirmed my fear, we were trapped.  They had surrounded the house, at least 30 of them now.  I need to think.  We are safe here for the moment, but our chance for escape gets smaller with each one that arrives.  Their moaning is calling others in, just like goddamn crows.

I suppose we could try and shoot our way out, but there are an awful lot of them.  Where do they all come from?  The house we were trapped in had a small back yard that was surrounded on 3 sides by a block wall.  Getting over that wall will slow us down, me anyway.  We can’t go that way.  They are thickest out front, filtering down both sides of the house, filling the back yard like we were throwing a party.  We were trapped all right.  No easy way to get out of here now, there are too many, always too many.

I could tell Brian was upset, but he didn’t say a word.  He just checked his revolver.  You get used to staying quiet.  Making noise will bring them.  Well, we can make as much racket as we want to now, they know we are here.  I pulled the bolt of my carbine back slightly so I could see that a round was in the chamber.  I am always checking.

Brian and I had been out all day.  We were working a new tract of homes not far from a safe house.  The mission went well today.  We managed to evade all of them we saw, even a couple we didn’t see.  We must have just run out of luck.  Damn things can be faster than they look.  It only took a few minutes for us to get cornered.  I didn’t think they heard us we were pretty quiet getting in here.

We were ready to head back.  I know Brian was.  He was getting hungry, and I had some concern as the sun was going down, but I really wanted to check out this last house.  The truck in the driveway had an NRA sticker on it.

A little over five years ago, the first reports of the disease had scared the hell out of me.  Call me paranoid, but hearing news reports that the dead were rising was all I needed to know.  It was time to go, get out of the city.  I loaded up my 4X4 with wife, and my two boys.  I took all the food, guns, and ammo I had, then headed for my ranch in Arizona.

Nice and remote, my ranch was in the mountains south of the Grand Canyon. The area was sparsely populated, and my ranch seemed an easy place to defend in case anything did show up.  I wish we could have stayed there forever, but we needed supplies.  I thought I was prepared for a trip to town.  We had made the trips before.  I guess you can never be prepared for the damn zom’s.  Luck and experience is what was needed, and I didn’t have either.  I never thought I could lose my wife and son so quickly.

We had entered town about midday.  I didn’t see anyone, or anything.  That was the last time I let my guard down.  My wife, Susan, went into the local market with our oldest son Robert.  Brian, our youngest, went with me to get fuel.  We were all armed, and well aware of the danger of going into towns.  I thought we could handle it.

I heard gunfire.  Brian and I bolted for the store that Susan and Robert went into.  We crashed through the door and found Robert fighting them off his mother.  He had put up a hell of a fight, killed four, and mangled a fifth with his bare hands.  Brian and I killed the last three.  We were too late, there were just too many for him.  Robert had been bitten several times, and my Susan was already gone.

Robert sat down next to his mother and hugged her.  He was crying, and begging her to forgive him for not protecting her.  No man could have done more.  We all started crying.  I was so proud of him.

We all knew what had to be done.  No one had to say it.  Robert wasn’t afraid.  I told him how much I loved him, and how brave he was.   Brian did the same.  We hugged one last time, and I did what I had to.  My son was gone.  Robert was a hero.  He is with his mother now.

After making sure Susan was taken care of, Brian and I buried both of them back at the ranch.  I guess I went a little crazy after that.  I think I was drunk for three days.  I felt I had nothing left, and I blamed myself.  I wanted revenge.  I wanted Susan and Robert to be alive.  I decided that I wanted revenge.  I would kill as many zoms as possible.

I decided we should head back home to Southern California.  My daughter was still there with her husband Josh, at least they were there when we had first reached the ranch.  Maybe they were OK.  We would make it our goal to find them.

The trip back took a few weeks, but this time gave me an opportunity to learn a few things about my enemy.  At first, Brian and I went through the ammo pretty fast.  I was angry and reckless, and it was lucky that we weren’t both killed in the first week.  With time, we both learned to control our anger, and to hold fire until needed.  We also learned how to hunt them.

Not long after we arrived back in the Orange county area, we ran into a group of ‘normies’ who took us back to a place they called the Garrison.  I never liked that name, so I just call it the ‘Fort’.  My irreverence often upsets the more politically minded of the founding residents.  They put up with me, they have to.

Once they learned I was a gunsmith, I offered to repair the few firearms they had for defense.  Most of the guns were trash, and few had ammunition.  Finding the right guns and the ammunition for them wouldn’t be easy.

After the panic, most of the military and police armories were emptied.  They wasted most of it without the leadership figuring out how to defend the population.  Most all the useful supplies were used up during the futile attempts at stopping the waves.    Toward the end of the panic, the remaining military dropped what was left and fled.  Leaving the weapons and left over supplies to rust and rot in the streets.

I was given an area for a repair shop where I store and maintain the weapons.  I also reload the ammo.  Brian helps me in the shop, and with the training.  Most of the residents don’t know how to shoot.  We sleep on a bunk bed in the corner of the shop.  I am lucky I have him with me.

Within the Garrison there are several scavenging teams.  These teams go outside the Garrison to find what we need.  Each team specializes in scavenging for a specific item or group of items.  There are teams for food, fuel, water, and medical supplies.  Assignments to a team are based on what you know, or what you can do.

There are at times, several teams searching for the same things.  This is because of need, due to deaths, or lack of volunteers, so sometimes teams go out for items not within their specialty.  The teams will vary in size.  Some teams have as many as ten people.  Bulky or heavy items will require more people to carry the burden, and more shooters for their protection.

I needed to start scrounging for components, tools and other supplies.  The missions were easy at first, find a phone book, and visit each of the gun stores listed in the area.  The closest stores first of course.  People had looted all the guns and ammunition during the panic, but thankfully they left the reloading components.  It didn’t take long to exhaust the stores within easy reach of the Garrison, so now we are going through neighborhood homes.  It is the best way now to find the items I need.

I like keeping it simple, so my team has only two of us, Brian and me.  I handle the map and the shooting, while Brian handles the crowbar.  We have been pretty lucky so far, but we stay quiet, and don’t take risks.  This last stop may prove that last part wrong, but it may be worth it.  The NRA sticker on the window of the truck tells me a gun owner may have lived here.

The house was just like the others in this neighborhood, a two story tract home.  I had one just like it before the disease, a big house, on a small lot.  We circled around to the back looking for an entrance.  Usually we find a door, or window that had been pushed in, and there is usually one or two zoms moving around inside.  I always wondered if they were in there because  it used to be their home.

This house was well protected from attack; the doors and windows were boarded tight, and overlaid with chicken wire.   Pretty good job too, it didn’t look like the zoms ever got in.  Brian and I circled the house, I then signaled for Brian to open a side door that led into the garage.  Most guys kept their reloading supplies in the garage, so I wanted to start there.  From the garage, we could get in to the house.

Brian and I have been scavenging as a team for a couple years now.  He is real good with a crowbar.  If you have zom’s on your heels, you want to be behind Brian.  He is fast, and quiet.  He goes through locked doors like a cowboy walking into a saloon.

Goddamned zombies showed up out of nowhere.  We just managed to get the door shut behind us, but I had to shoot.  I always try to save ammo; it is too valuable to waste, so I can’t get rattled.  Being a shooter means thinking first, but it’s easier said than done sometimes.  I killed three before we got inside, but I had to use four shots.  Three for four, is not good.  Why don’t they seem to make noise until they are on top of you?  Might be smarter than we think they are.

Damn it, the gunfire will bring more of them.  Brian secured the door with the cordless drill, and drywall screws he carries in his back pack.  While he was busy, I scanned the garage.  There was a bench in the corner that may have the supplies I need, but first I have to see how bad off we are.  We need to get upstairs.

“Let’s sweep the house.”  I said to Brian.

I had him open the door into the house, and once inside, he secured that door behind us.  Brian followed close behind me covering our rear with his revolver.  I went down the hall to the right.  Moving counter clockwise is better for shooting, should we find zoms in the house.

First the family room, clear.  Then the dining room, and the kitchen, clear.  The living room floor told me the owner had been in the house a while.  There was a pile of trash bags in the middle of the floor.  Mostly empty food cans and packaging.  The downstairs was secure.  No scavengers have been here either.

My opinion of the guy who owned this house only got better.  Not only had he fortified the ground floor from intrusion, but he had also used a chain saw and removed the stairs.  He used a ladder to get upstairs.  The ladder could be pulled up after himself in case the zom’s did get in.  Most of the people didn’t even think about making their homes safe.  Those that did probably didn’t have the tools or materials do anything about it.  This guy seems to have had both.  Maybe we will be lucky and he reloaded ammo, I need primers.

Most people didn’t last long in the suburbs.  They figured to sit tight until the National Guard showed up.  They weren’t prepared to take care of themselves.  They made fun of those that had water, food, and firearms.  After all, they said, the guard is on the way.  Most never figured the guard would show up ‘turned’.  Thank god for guys like the one that owned this house.  He thought it would take a while for help to arrive, I am just sorry we were so late.

Brian was in the kitchen.  “There’s some canned food left, not much else”.  Then he looked over his shoulder in my direction and said, “They sure are gettin’ loud, aren’t they”?  Brian let that last part hang a little.

Brian’s question was his way of checking on me.  He wanted to see if I was still focused.  A good team will watch out for each other.  I responded by letting him know I was still on mission.

“I hear them, I said, “let’s get upstairs, I want to see how much shit we stepped in”.

Brian followed me upstairs, pulling the ladder up behind him.  We swept the upstairs then peered out each of the windows, and assessed our situation.  We stepped in it alright.  The situation had turned bad real fast.  We found ourselves surrounded by at least 30 zom’s.  Where do they come from?

“Dad, we’re gonna’ starve up here”.  Brian said it like he was ready to give up.

“Yeah maybe” I told him as I looked out the window, “but they won’t get us”.  I damn sure wasn’t going to starve with any ammo left either.  I looked into the backyard, it was dark now, but I could see the shadowy forms of an increasing mob of undead.

To buy some time while I considered our options, I told Brian to take a look around, and see if you can find anything we can use.  He found some WD-40, a gun cleaning kit, and some batteries, AA’s and D’s.  He held them up for me to see with that smile of his.  I am sure glad he is here with me.

“That’s good”, I said.

I hate this world, but I am not about to give up.  I am not going to let Brian give up either.  There has to be a way out of this.  Who ever had held up in this house lasted a while.  The guy knew how to prep a house.  I wondered what had happened to him.  No way did the zoms get him; maybe he had a way out?  I had to find it if he did.

“Found some ammo Dad!  Brian shouted, “9 mm, and .22 rim fire, two and half boxes of 9’s, and a full brick of .22!”  Brian held them up for me to see.  There’s the smile again.  I sure miss my Susan, and Robert.

“Great”, I said, “maybe there’s pistol or rifle here too, look under the bed.”

I didn’t expect what came next.  Things have gotten into the routine of survival.  If your team gets into trouble scavenging, your team has to figure a way out.  No cavalry is on the way, there are just not enough of us.  You can’t expect someone coming to the rescue anymore.

Suddenly, Brian shouted, “Shit, Dad!  There’s a man out there”!

Might as well have told me Santa was outside.  I didn’t believe him; none of the other teams were working in this area.  Brian was looking out a window into the backyard.  I came up alongside of him so I could see down his line of sight.  I peered out, over his shoulder, looking between the boards and chicken wire covering the window.  There, standing on the block wall that surrounded the yard, was a man.

The zom’s hadn’t noticed him!  Surely they would have heard him climb up onto the wall.  The zoms could hear almost as good as a dog; their noses were pretty good too.  What was really strange was that the man appeared calm, just standing there, looking down at the zoms in the yard.

“Who the hell is that”?  I said it to myself, not expecting an answer.

“Think it’s the guy who lives here”?  Brian asked.

“I don’t know”.  I was still talking to myself.  I was unsure about what I was seeing.  As I studied the scene in the backyard, I began to notice just how totally out of place this stranger was.

It was already dark, but the early moon was bright enough that I could see the stranger was tall and thin, with short hair.  He looked to be in his 30’s.  Anyway, he was younger than me, and older than Brian.  He was also dressed unusually for these times.  He was naked.

“Think he’s turned”?  Brian had come up with the obvious explanation for the odd behavior of this stranger.  Zombies don’t bother someone who has turned.

“Not sure, he’s turned Brian”, I said.  “He ain’t moaning like the rest of ‘em, but if they see him on that wall, he’ll be screaming”.

The scene was unreal.  Here was a naked man, clearly visible, standing on top of a block wall, and the zoms didn’t seem to notice him.  If he doesn’t move away, the zombies will be on him in a second.  I wondered why the zom’s didn’t smell him.

Then it happened, the strangers luck ran out. Several of the zoms had turned around, and were moving toward the wall where he was standing.  The zoms were really moaning now.  I expected the stranger to jump off the wall into the other yard, but he wasn’t moving!  He just stood there!   It was time for me to do something.

“Too late Brian”! I shouted. “Open the window”!

Without a word, Brian sprang to action.  As I said, he is good.  He pulled his crowbar from the scabbard, stepped forward and tore into the wood and wire barrier covering the window.  Within seconds, the opening was big enough, and I moved up, bringing the carbine to my shoulder.

Brian yelled out, “Run man”!

The stranger looked up at us for only a second, then after two quick shots from my carbine, he looked down to see the two zom’s closest to him, fall at the base of the wall.  He looked up at us again, and I waited for him to take advantage of the few seconds I just gave him.  I was stunned to see him leap off the wall into the yard with the zombies!

“Christ, they’re on him”! I said, and I fired two more rounds.  Two more gone, but it wouldn’t help.  The stranger seemed to disappear as the zom’s swarmed over him.  I learned long ago not to waste ammo.  I lowered the carbine, and closed my eyes.  There are always so many, too many.

Suddenly, Brian was yelling, “Jesus dad, he’s tearing them apart”!

I opened my eyes to an unbelievable sight.  The stranger was still alive!  The stranger seemed to move effortlessly through the crowd of zoms.  They reached and grabbed at him, but it was like they couldn’t get hold of him.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Incredibly, the stranger started tearing the zombies apart with his bare hands.  He smashed their skulls and tore their limbs off.  The zom’s couldn’t stop him.  More and more of them filtered into the backyard, but the stranger was now dropping them as fast as they entered.  This guy was unbelievable!  He started bouncing around the yard, leaping over their heads, then, rushing forward to slash and tear pieces off them.  I have never seen any man fight zombies like this.  That’s because no man can.

Brian and I just stood there and watched the show.  He was doing well, real well.

“Goddamn, who is that”? Brian asked.

I didn’t answer.  I sure as hell didn’t know.  This was impossible.  I tried to consider how a man could do this.  Was it drugs?  How did he avoid being dragged to the ground?  How did he jump like that?  Was it drugs?  I didn’t know what to think.  Then as quickly as it started, it was over.  It only took a few minutes.  He had killed them all.

Shit.

The stranger just stood there in the middle of the mess.  He was covered in the foul crap the zom’s have for blood, but he was alive.  He took a deep breath as he looked around and seemed to smile.  Obviously he was pleased with himself.

It was at this point I yelled out, “Hey! Who are you”?

The stranger wiped his hands and face off with a shirt he had torn off one of the zom’s.  He looked up at us, gave a little salute, then he just flew off!  He disappeared into the darkness!

“Shit!  You see that”!  Brian exclaimed.

“I saw it”, I said in disbelief, “I just don’t believe it”.

“How did he do that?  Where did he go”? Brian sounded a little scared.

Brian’s tone had caused me to snap out of the daze I was in.  I had to get back on mission.  We have been handed a break.  More like a miracle.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care”, I said. “Looks like we’ve got a chance to get out of here, come on”.

Brian just stood there looking at me with a bewildered look on his face.  His eyes seemed to plead with me for an answer to what he had just seen.  “But dad, the fucking guy just flew off”!

Brian was really rattled by the strangers exit.  I had to have him thinking straight, back on mission.  “Yeah Brian”, I said.  “It looks like Superman just saved our asses”.

This comment took a second to bring a smile to his face. Then he let out a little laugh and started moving, and we had to move quickly.  While the stranger had taken care of the immediate problem, all the moaning the zoms had been doing obviously had reinforcements on the way.  We both knew it.  They are like goddamn crows.

We exited the house through the same door we entered.  I had Brian secure the door with screws.  I wanted to come back here.  There had to be more stuff inside we could use.  Just then, the stranger appeared in front of us.  It scared the crap out of me.  The guy never made a sound.

“Damn it”, I said, “Where did you come from”!

Instinctively, the muzzle of my carbine was pointed right at his face, and I didn’t bother to move it away.  I had no idea who this guy was, or what gave him the ability to do what we witnessed.  He could be a threat.  Brian slowly moved behind me, his hand on his revolver.  He got the idea I didn’t trust our new hero.

The stranger was now fully clothed, and most surprisingly, he was clean.  He was wearing jewelry, a lot of it.  Too much for me, zoms could get hold of a necklace and drag you to the ground.  Being this close, I could see he was at least as tall as me, 6’3”, but he couldn’t weigh 160 lbs.  He was real skinny.  Nowhere near the muscle needed to do what we witnessed.

I started with the same question I ask every new person I find. “Are you bit”?

“Now that’s funny”, he said.

That pissed me off.

“Listen mother fucker”, I demanded, “Are you bit”?  The muzzle of my carbine never moved.   People often lie when you ask that question.  They are scared, especially if they have been bitten.  Everyone knows a bite is a death sentence.  The problem is there are too many cowards.

Those who are bitten have two choices.  One is a dignified death by killing themselves, or have someone else do it for them.  The second choice is the way of a coward.  They try and blend in with the uninfected for however long they have left of their miserable lives before turning.  I hate these selfish assholes. They have no right.

Early on, we trusted people.  To many times the cowards were among innocent people when they turned.  They killed too many before we learned to verify.  Bite inspection, and quarantine, are now part of the routine when teams return from scavenging.  We have also made mercy killing of the infected part of the garrison routine.  I hate this world, but we must survive.

The stranger held out his arms, his palms visible.  Looking me right in the eyes he simply said, “No”.

“No”?  I didn’t like his answer, but he had saved my ass.  I wanted to give him another chance.  I saw him neck deep in zombies.  He had to be bitten.  He could also have been scratched.  He had enough gore all over him for an infection.  It could have gotten in his eyes or his mouth.

The stranger had never moved his eyes from mine.  I felt like I was being tested.  I wasn’t going to blink first.  Then the stranger said, “Perhaps I should rephrase the answer, I can’t be bitten”.

“What the hell does that mean”, I asked.

The stranger didn’t answer me.  Instead, he suggested we move to a more secure location, and then he would answer all my questions.  He was right.  We have delayed too long.  We could run into zom’s at any moment.  I lowered my carbine from his head, and pointed the muzzle in the direction I wanted him to go.

“You lead”, I told him, “that way”.