One Cowboy, 2000 Zombies, and a Bike Gang
Enough old construction sites had dumped abandoned supplies into the desert that Brown discovered an old steel bar. He mounted his horse and took it with him to the back of the cinder block wall that surrounded the housing complex the biker gang had taken over.
It remained only a few hours after sunrise and Brown hoped the bikers behaved like most of their ilk and stayed in bed. As the relentless desert sun cooked his Stetson part of him didn’t blame them for having late nights, which would keep them out of Arizona’s deadly heat.
More concerning was the horde that slowly marched toward his back. Instead of the mountains taking its toll, if anything the horde had grown as it met up with more undead migrating north from Mexico. It marched a thousand strong as least and could have been two or three times that number.
He tied his mount, Moonlight, to a palo verde tree, grabbed his sledge hammer in one hand, the steel pole in the other, and hurried to the wall. He circled around and got to a place a two hundred yards from his horse, but closer to where the horde emerged from the foothills.
He cast a final glance over his shoulder as the horrid odor of decaying flesh rotting in the sun reached his nostrils. They stumbled over the rocks and uneven ground, these human monsters made flesh. Bones poked through tattered skin and black wounds covered more parts of their bodies than the clothes they wore.
He wished, he really wished, he had enough bullets to sit on a high cliff and take them out of their misery to the very last one, but he wasn’t near being so equipped, better to have his two enemies kill each other.
Perhaps leading the undead into the compound was a questionable act. With so few breathers left, they should be uniting against a common foe, but if these bikers had been so cruel to wipe out the elderly who had occupied this complex, than he had no doubts what they might do to the girls back at the ranch and Brown would anything to protect them.
He placed the steel bar between two cinder blocks where a crack had already separated them. Sweat formed on his forehead and behind him he could hear the zombies drawing near.
Clang.
The bar entered further than he thought it might, but it also created more noise than he would have liked. Not one to hesitate, Brown hit the steel bar again and again. It burst through the other side. Moving to the side, he threw his weight against the bar. At first nothing happened and he had to fight away his panic.
Muscles strained and sweat poured into his eyes. He tried harder. A growl escaped his lips as he gave it everything he had. The upper half of the wall fell away with a crash.
He realized at once that it wouldn’t be enough. He needed to take down the lower three feet of wall that remained.
He heard shouts from within the complex and the moaning behind him grew far too close. He ignored them both and drove the pole straight down through one of the exposed cinder blocks. He pulled at the remaining walls. It didn’t give, so he jammed the bar forward.
More yells echoed up from the compound and he could hear the shuffling of clumsy feet as they tore through the desert floor just yards behind him. He pulled the bar back and then jammed it forward again. The top two cinder blocks cracked and then broke apart. He moved the bar two feet to the right and started the process again.
Forward, back, forward, back.
Shots rang out and powder broke away as a bullet hit the wall to his left. Another disturbed the dry dirt before him.
He grit his teeth and a cinder block broke away as he slammed the bar back. At least my friends and the girls will be safe, he thought to himself, but then jerked at the first set of hands clawed at his back.
With a yell, he dove over what remained of the wall. Bullets buzzed around, him and several hit the zombies and their bodies jerked in a foul dance of death. Reaching up, he grabbed the steel bar and pulled it back in toward him. With a crash, the rest of the cinder blocks in the break fell away and the undead came pouring in.
The shouting behind him increased into a frenzy as the zombies entered the complex, but Brown was on his feet and running. Two filthy, dark bearded bikers had drawn in closer to him and appeared to be more set on revenge than holding back the horde. Brown drew his pistol and dropped to one knee as more shouts ripped by him like angry hornets.
He held his breath and hit one in the center of his chest. The other kept firing until Brown’s third shot got lucky and took the man in the eye. He stood up just in time to feel fingers grabbing at his head. They came away with his hat.
A female zombie clutched it in her hands.
“No one touches my Stetson.” He said and blew off her head at point blank range. His left hand grabbed the hat before it hit the ground and he tossed it back on his head as he turned to run.
The undead lurched after him and bullets continued to crash into the cinder blocks as he passed, but he made it to the wall near where Moonlight had been tied. It scared him to see how close a few dozen zombies were to his mount, but he leapt the wall as a fury of bullets came his way.
He freed Moonlight and hopped onto the saddle and with a whoop, he galloped away from the conflict as the horde flooded into the biker complex by the hundred.
Come back next weekend for the climax of Brown’s journey into the second year of the Eternal Aftermath
Learn more about the Eternal Aftermath Here
Teeth, Fingers, and Gore
Brown fled the new cluster of zombies to the east, just as the original horde began to flow down the mountain at them from the north. He felt pleased to see several of the northern group lose their footing and tumble down the steep hills breaking arms and legs. Many became unable to rise, but considering his current predicament, it would take more than such things to raise his spirits,
Before he had reached Trevor, the old man, and their mounts, he already heard gunfire echoing through the dark forest. More undead littered his path as he rushed to reach the others. He found some cover before they spotted him and paused just long enough to load his pistol.
Letting his rifle ride in his left hand, he used his pistol to take down the walking dead that blocked his path as he rushed to join the others. Heads jerked back and grey gore splattered the boulders as he dodged through the low lying trees and wait-a-minute brushes.
“Bout time you showed up,” Jacob called to him from the darkness. “I need more bullets, you damn hick.”
“Don’t we all,” Brown called out as he used his last two shots to clear a path to his allies. He leapt over a log and came to a stop and let the others hold them off for a moment while he caught his breath.
The undead didn’t give him long.
Brown drew a box of pistol rounds out of his saddle bag and shoved them into Jacob’s hand. “Reload.”
He looked around and saw that some small sliver of luck had found them and the way to the west wasn’t crawling with flesh eaters…at least not yet.
He loaded his last magazine into his pistol and tossed his rifle to Trevor. “I want both of you to load everything you got, but also keep leading the horses west. Only use the guns if they block you from going west.” He drew his sledge hammer from off his mount. “I got your backs, now go!”
Brown tucked his gun into his belt. Zombies lurched at him from the east. The main horde hadn’t reached the valley yet, which remained the only thing that gave them a chance. As a dozen grimy hands reached for him, he got busy with his sledge.
Fingers snapped and faces broke in half. He whirled and shot his hammer in every direction. He cleared an area and soon over ten corpses would move no more, but a new wave stumbled in and it would be one he couldn’t escape from.
He turned and run. This time he didn’t bother drawing his pistol, he focused more on evading any that attempted to block his path. Ducking and weaving through both the trees and zombies, he jogged after his friends. A horrid figure with half of its face eaten away moved to grab him. He swung his sledge two handed and the monster’s head burst like a rotten melon filled with slime. Some of the putrid mess splashed his face and he gasped in disgust.
Wiping it away, he found a new determination and with a growl, he smashed a female zombie into the dirt and kept running.
* * *
Sunrise found them ahead of the horde and looking down at the walled compound that held the large biker gang Jacob had told them about. The walls of the compound were a good six feet high and hundreds of zombies patrolled its perimeter. However, Brown noticed most of them remained concentrated on the western side where the bikers must enter and exit from.
Jacob spoke to him from behind Trevor, where they both still rode on the tired horse. “So what are we doing now? We gots clear of that horde, what do you want to do, stick around here long enough to make sure them bikers see us? They’s ten times more deadly than a pack of flesh munchers.”
“I agree with you. That’s why I don’t want them to come looking for food and supplies when they get more desperate. The only thing that’s kept our ranch safe from them this long is the mountain range, but if they have bikes that won’t last forever.”
“What you fixing to do?” Trevor asked.
Brown looked back their way as he fixed his Stetson. “I mean to lure that horde behind us right into this compound and let these two forces eliminate each other.”
“Holy hell in a handbag,’ Jacob started. “I knew both of you were crazy.”
Brown cracked a small smile and looked back to the east when the faint sound of the first zombies emerging from the foothills silenced the morning cries of the desert birds.
Come back next weekend to see if Brown and his allies can survive the Eternal Aftermath
Learn more about the Eternal Aftermath Here
The Valley of Walking Death
As the first zombies made it past the avalanche, Jacob said, “Well whatever you twice damned cowboys want to do, you have better figure it out, right quick.”
Brown and Trevor shared a look, but Brown spoke first. “We’d better put some distance between us and that horde.”
“To’won’t be easy with dem horses,” Jacob said, as he moved to lead the way. “Wez about to hit cliff country.”
“Any way we could skirt the rougher cliffs, hopefully toward the north?”
“Can’t say there is.” Jacob started. “Might be able to cut south, but that would dump us right into the biker’s back yard.”
“Or take us closer to Mexico,” Brown added, “which is where this horde came from in the first place.”
“Well what the hell are we going to do?” Trevor asked his voice rising. As he spoke, the first undead passed through the narrow canyon and drew into sight.
Brown looked up at the towering mountains that blocked out half the night sky to the west and north. “We can’t go back the way we came. We’re going to have to go south. We don’t have a choice.”
“Shit-dandy. If I knew today was gonna be this exciting I wouldduh wore my new suit.” Brown doubted Jacob had ever worn a suit in his life, but he let the little man led them on through the rocky cliffs and gullies.
For the first time in hours, the small party started to descend in elevation. Brown and Trevor still lead their horses, but after a rough section, they dropped into a forested area where things grew more level. The going remained slow in the darkness, but some of the worry over the horses becoming hurt lessoned
A small stream divided the valley they had entered. The pair had just started to guide their mounts through the shallow water when Trevor’s horse struggled against him. The men smelled the foul odor a moment later.
“They’s here,” Jacob said, and Brown knew at once what the old man meant.
And then they came. At least twenty of them stumbled out from the trees and boulders. Rags hung from them and battered feet disregarded the sharp rocks as they lunged their way. As the zombies hands pushed through the thorns of the wait-a-minute bushes, their throats opened and the air filled with their growls. Even in the darkness, Brown guessed they were Mexicans, or at least had been while they lived.
Jacob confirmed his thoughts with a shout. “Goddamn wet back zombies. It was bad enough while they were alive, but we ain’t got no border guards now.” As he spoke he backed up until he drew level with the cowboys. “I hope you boys can handle yerselves, cuz I ain’t got no guns.”
As one, both men drew their rifles from off their horses. Brown also drew an extra revolver and tossed it to Jacob. “It only has six shots, but I hate to see a man unarmed these days.”
Having said his piece, Brown focused on this rifle work. Heads exploded with waves of gore. The blasting of gunfire echoed through the canyons, while smoke started to obscure their vision.
Snarling faces came at them through the smoke and darkness. The horses screamed as Brown’s arms jerked left and right as he put down zombie after zombie. Between the trees, darkness, and the increasing obfuscation of the smoke, he couldn’t be sure if more arrived behind the first group, but he had no choice but to fight on or risk his mounts.
Jacob yelled when one appeared in front of him and he shot it in the face at almost blank range.
A zombie came from their right and charged at Trevor. Before he could bring the gun around, it closed. He got the rifle up between them, but the man-monster grabbed the length of it and fought with him. Brown blew the head off of two more, but then the rifle clicked empty. He moved to the side and kicked the zombie that had Trevor’s rifle in the chest. It went stumbling onto its back but took Trever’s rifle with it.
“Son of a bitch,” Brown growled as more came pouring out of the underbrush. “Trevor, take the horses and just go. Jacob, cover him.”
“I only have three shots left.”
“Then use them damn wisely!”
No more arguing came and Trevor and Jacob hurried to take the horses west.
Brown drew his pistol and emptied it as quickly as he could into those closest to him. He had wanted to grab Trevor’s rifle, but when another dozen came pouring at him, he gave up that goal.
After stuffing his pistol into his belt, he kicked one zombie into two more and then used the butt of his rifle to smash another in the face. He backpedaled a few feet and the half-moon appeared from behind a lingering cloud, he saw that at least forty zombies lurched at him through the forest.
Setting his jaw, Brown turned and hurried to catch up to the others. Before he reached them he heard sounds to the north. The other horde had caught up to them. They were in trouble, some serious trouble indeed.
Come back next weekend to see if Brown and his allies can survive the Eternal Aftermath
Learn more about the Eternal Aftermath Here
Canyons, Teeth, and Cowboys
The sounds of a thousand undead followed them as they entered the rocky break between the cliffs. Some of the gnashing sounded close while others created a horrid background canopy of marching death as the monsters struggled up the steep slopes the cowboys had so recently passed. Mixed with this, the tumbling sounds also reached their ears when the frequent stumbles of the lurching dead sent them rolling down the rocking cliffs into their uncaring brethren.
Once the cowboys had passed through the front of the passage with their horses, the old man’s voice reached them from out of the darkness. “Stay here. I mean it. Stay here.”
Enough moonlight reached them for Brown to see the look of dismay covering Trevor’s face. Soon that look became replaced with one of concern as the first zombie entered the break between the cliffs.
“We should keep moving,” his friend said.
“The old man told us to stay here. We don’t know our way around. Who knows what type of traps he might have set up?” As a second, third, and then fourth zombie entered the break, Brown began to doubt his own words.
Shaking his head, Brown drew his pistol. He took aim, but before he opened fire a loud smashing sound echoed through the mountains as a series of boulders tumbled down the cliffs and not only smashed the lead zombies into a foul smelling paste, but went a long way in blocking off the passage they had just entered.
The two men stared at the blockade as a cloud of dust enveloped the area. The first zombie hadn’t been hit and Brown put a bullet through its head, while Trevor calmed down the horses.
“Well, you coming, you half brain dead bastards?” The old man said from the darkness clinging to the narrow pass ahead of them. “That won’t hold them shitheads off for long.”
The cowboys exchanged another look and Brown allowed himself a half grin. “Might as well do what our benefactor says.”
“Benefactor, huh. Think you’re pretty fancy with them cleaned clothes and horses. I had a horse once. I ate him last winter.” The bobbing white haired mop came into view ahead of them as they moved higher into the range. “Your horses look pretty tasty. Hope one doesn’t break a leg. That would be a real shame.”
Brown grew more serious. “You can insult me all you like, mister, but when you even hint at threatening my horse, we’ll have an issue.”
“Keep your caps on, lowlander. I’m the best chance yer horse has got.” He turned to face them after they had made it another hundred yards. “My name’s Jacob, by the damn by.” After the two men introduced themselves he went on. “I don’t suppose you have a few hundred rounds with you or anything helpful like that?”
“Can’t say we do and we’d rather not use it all if we had,” Brown answered.
The old timer picked at his teeth with his finger for a moment and then said, “Well can I inquire to what genius inspired plan you two were hatching?”
“I think we had the idea of taking them living dead over the range, dumping them on the west side of the Santa Ritas and then riding our horses home.”
Jacob chuckled and it wasn’t a friendly laugh. “Oh my, oh my. I can see a few things wrong with that there plan. Besides the bears, mountain lions, and jaguars just waiting for the opportunity to dine on some fresh horse flesh, them and the damn steer cliffs you somehow think you can get yer horses over, you have no idea what’s on the west side of this range do you?”
Brown looked Trevor’s way and the man shrugged.
“He he, right after this double-damned apocalypse started, some huge ass biker gang road down to the Golden Valley retirement community. Besides being ruthless evil bastards, you can’t really knock their idea. Hundreds of well stocked homes with only old ladies and half crippled men to protect them. Many of the neighborhoods are walled in too.”
“Those bikers moved in and never left. They been living off the corpse of the old world out there ever since. You head down the west face, you’ll come up right into their back yard. I’m sure they is getting hungry by now. They sure as hell will want to eat yer horses. Hell, you’d be lucky if they don’t want to eat you.”
“Son of a bitch,” Trevor swore.
“Son of a bitch is right,’ Jacob agreed and it was about then that a closer moaning could be heard as the first zombies began to make their way over the avalanche.
Come back next weekend to see if Brown and his allies can survive the Eternal Aftermath
Learn more about the Eternal Aftermath Here
Cliffs, Horses, and the Horde
Brown took one last look at the growing horde of roaming undead to the east and turned his horse toward the west. The sun had just dipped behind the Santa Rita mountain range and he took in a tight breath as he guided his horse up the rocky slope.
It quickly became apparent that the ground was getting too dangerous for a man to stay in the saddle and when the sun set it would just grow worse. Turning to Trevor, he said, “We had better walk the horses from here on out. We can’t risk them getting hurt for multiple reasons.”
Trevor nodded and as he dismounted, he added, “I hear you. I would never want anything to happen to ol’ Smoke, but besides that, we may need their speed to make it back in one piece,” he paused as he looked over his shoulder at the moaning zombies, “and not seven hundred.”
As the light began to fail, the going became harder. Loose stones tumbled under both the horse and human feet. Wait-a-minute bushes and clumps of cactus forced them to alter their path often. The incline also began to take their breath away forcing them to waste time with small breaks every five minutes or so.
Looking back, Brown saw that the terrain took its toll on the walking dead too. Many zombies tripped and fell. Their bodies would roll backwards taking several others down with them, but the rest would plod on. But even those that fell would return to their feet and continue the chase. Where a normal person would be nursing wounds after such a tumble, the zombies would only be delayed. He was pleased to see that some suffered broken legs and other injuries that would take them out of the deadly race, but he also realized that it would also mean that they’d have to go back and put them down later… if they were able to make it to a later.
After cresting another rugged hill, Trevor said, “Should we consider making thing tougher for them. Perhaps an avalanche or two would take some out and slow more down.”
“Might not be the worst idea, but I would like to get them higher in the mountains and further away from our ranch. I also don’t want to lose our lead of them.”
“I hear you,” Trevor said. “You would think with how slow they usually are that we’d be whopping their asses up these hills, but they never need to stop.” He looked back the way they came. “I think they might be gaining on us boss.”
“Yeah, unfortunately I think you’re right.”
They set themselves to quicken their pace. Forty more minutes passed before the shadows of darkness had finished claiming the land. Branches reached for them as if the zombies had somehow found a way to cut them off. Pits of blackness formed under trees and beside the looming cliffs of stone. Trying to press through the imagined dangers, he hurried them along.
When they reached the crest of the next range, they paused to catch their breath and assess how well they did staying ahead of the growing horde. Again Brown found they had mixed success. The mass of zombies had splint into a strange dichotomy as they lumbered after them. Many had fallen behind and struggled up the slope, so that what was once a cluster of hundreds had spread out into different groups of various numbers that covered a space that could have been as large as a mile between the fastest undead and the slowest. The bad news remained that the zombies van guard still seemed to be gaining on their position. Some of them were as close as a few hundred yards.
“I’m almost tempted to swat these horses on the rump and have them find their way back.”
Even in the darkness, he saw Trevor flash him a harsh look.
“But I still won’t. I’d refuse to let there be even a small chance of them being cornered and attacked. Besides at this rate, we may end up on the western side of the range and might need their help getting back.”
Trevor nodded, but didn’t waste breath on a comment and soon the pair took up their journey once more.
They might have gained some ground on the undead, but then they came to a series of cliffs that would have been impossible for the horses to cross and were forced to backtrack. This took them dangerously close to the moving zombies. The horses snorted as the foul odor of death crept through the forest. Brown found it unnerving to be hearing more than seeing them progress closer. Random snaps and moans echoed through the darkness and it became almost impossible to determine how close they were.
They managed to get the horses up a three foot stone cliff that would be difficult for the undead and the pair took a quick break in order to catch their breath. “Once we make it up to the top of this crest,” Brown began, “We’ll hold up there for a while and try your plan of started to waste them with rocks and avalanches.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” an angry voice called out to them. “You bastards brought these flesh bags right to my doorstep and you’ll take them somewhere else or I’ll put a bullet right between your eyes.”
.
.
Come back next weekend for the next episode of Brown’s dangerous journey into the second year of the Eternal Aftermath.
.
.
You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
.
.
Race Against Time
Getting the rest of the camp to agree to their plan wasn’t the easiest thing they had ever done. Laura spoke up against Brown leading the horde of zombies away from the ranch with only Trevor there to help him if things badly, but Brown had refused to take more people, because he already felt there wouldn’t be enough left back at the house to protect the place if something went wrong. In the end both Laura and little Petty had tears in their eyes as the two cowboys rode their horses west.
They had only made it a hundred yards before Trevor cracked a half smile and said, “Isn’t the cowboy supposed to ride into the sunset at the end of the story?”
Brown felt more serious and his response reflected his attitude. “Let’s hope they were wrong about it. I’d much rather not be playing hide and seen with these dead bastards in the dark, but sometimes we don’t have a choice in such matters.”
“Never seems to bother them, though, does it? Doesn’t make sense either. You’d think with their rotting eyes, they wouldn’t be able to see a thing.”
“Nothing much makes sense anymore.” Something in his tone let Trevor know that the conversation was over and it had become time to get to work, Brown could only hope that his plan would be successful.
They road north-west for a while giving the horde of five hundred undead a wide birth, but he know they had to hurry, not only were they fighting against time to use what little sunlight remained, but they also needed to be able to distract the undead before they moved into an area where they might be able to spy the ranch house.
The horse’s hoofs clicked under them as they reached the foothills of the Santa Rita Mountains. The wind shifted and they got a dose of the foulness the walking dead brought with them.
Brown drew his pistol as he took in the mass of undead below him. “We’re going to have to get their attention now. We can’t afford to let them get closer to the ranch.”
“I’d prefer to get a little higher into these foothills first,” Trevor said.
“I’d prefer to be relaxing with my feet kicked up with an ice cold beer, but I think this world has forgotten to honor such things.”
Trevor only nodded and then drew his pistol as well. Seconds later the men had fired two shots into the air.
“Strange how hard most of life is, but how easily some things can work,” Brown said, as the mass of zombies moved toward them like a colony of ants following their queen.
“Yeah, but now comes the hard part,” Trevor countered.
“Indeed, but nothing to do but get things started.” Brown put away his pistol and then drew his rifle. He shot down three of them, just to make sure he kept their attentions and then led the way deeper into the foothills.
At once the going became harder. Between the loose rocks and the growing number of trees, the horses stayed hard pressed to make progress up the slopes. They crossed over a few ridges and moved through larger groups of trees. Soon the vegetation grew thick enough that they lost sight of the zombies moving behind them, but when the wind shifted directions, Brown could hear their moans.
“They sound closer than they should be,” Trevor said.
“That’s what I was thinking.” Brown pointed ahead. “See that hill? It looks clear near the top. We should be able to get a better view from up there.”
Without another wasted word, Brown led them to the top of the hill. They dismounted and got out their field glasses. Trevor looked down, while Brown gave the horses some water.
“Oh holy hell!” he exclaimed.
“What is it?”
Handing him the binoculars, Trevor said, “You had better just look for yourself.”
Brown did and drew in a breath when he saw the scene that unfolded below him. The first think he realized was that their pace through the foothills was too slow for the undead were gaining ground on him, but that wasn’t what dismayed him the most. He could see the main group he had spied earlier, which had already moved into the lower trees, but other smaller groups of zombies littered the plains just before the foothills.
“With all those small groups, there must be close to a thousand of those buggers out there,” Trevor said.
“Doesn’t matter how many there are as long as they all follow us up into the mountains.”
“True, but it might make it a lot harder for us make it back to the ranch.”
Brown lowered the binoculars and met his friend’s gaze. “You might be right about that.” As he spoke those words a greater darkness gripped the lands as the last rays of light disappeared behind the mountain range.
.
.
Come back next weekend for the next episode of Brown’s dangerous journey into the second year of the Eternal Aftermath.
.
.
You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
.
.
Cowboys, Dust, and Death
Brown looked out over the rolling sun baked hills. A slight wind tossed the yellowed grass covered slopes that led uphill toward the Santa Rita Mountains. He could just see the line where the first twisted trees began to appear to the west, but that wasn’t what he watched.
A cloud of dust had been kicked up to the west of the ranch house he and his friends had called home over the last year. Where some had sought to survive the masses of roving undead by living off the corpse of the old world, he and a handful of others had taken the opposite approach. They had fled the cities and towns, figuring less people meant fewer zombies, which meant less trouble.
The growing plume of disturbed sand drew his attention again. There were many things in the region that could cause such a disturbance. Herds of horses, cows, or even deer could create the cloud. Wind could create such things as well, but Brown had to prepare for the worst case scenario, just to be safe.
In his case the worst case scenario would be a group of migrating zombies moving in from Mexico. It had happened more than once, but if the cloud was any indication, he’d never encountered one this big before.
He heard something move to the east and jerked around thinking that another group must have moved in behind him, but he let out a sigh, when he saw that it was Trevor leading his horse named Smoke. Smoke whinnied at Brown’s mount, which he called Moonshine, since it was mostly black, but had streaks of silver running over its flanks.
“I saw it too,” Trevor said, without so much as a hello.
Brown looked his way. “I’d like to think it’s some migrating elk, but I doubt we’re gonna be that lucky today.”
“Yeah it’s something migrating alright.” Trevor paused to remove his cowboy hat, wipe the sweat off his brow, and then toss it back on. “I suppose you want to go have a look?”
“Yes sir, I suppose we should.” Having said their piece the two men mounted their houses and took them slowly over the fields toward the disturbance.
It didn’t take them long to surmount a hill tall enough for the wide expanse of grasslands to open up before them. Looking to the southwest, Brown sighed as a string of curses escaped from Trevor’s lips.
Perhaps two miles away from them easily five hundred dust covered undead slowly marched across the plain. Like spirits of death itself, they left a brown stain in their passing as if anything they touched joined them in their foul state of decay and lifelessness.
“Maybe they’ll miss the ranch,” his friend suggested.
“I don’t think we can count on that.”
“Then what should we do, go back and evacuate everyone up into the hills for a few nights?”
“And what let them eat all our livestock and trample our crops?” Brown said without taking his eyes off the horde.
Trevor’s voice took and edge. “You aren’t thinking about fighting that many. We can gather the horses and probably herd the cattle east before we’re spotted.”
“I might like for you to do that and take Laura and Petty with you, but I was thinking about a third option.”
He had Trevor’s rapt attention. “And what would that be, boss?”
“What if Moonshine and I got in their sights and then lured them away to the west. Once we reached the foothills, I could lead them on a merry little chase and then slip away through the trees and meet you somewhere.”
“I like it, but still see one problem with the plan.”
“What would that be?” Brown asked.
“That I’m not included in the luring,” Trevor said with a smile.
“I’d never be able to focus knowing that the rest of us aren’t in good hands.”
“I hear you, but hear me. I’m not letting you take all the risk and earn all the glory, I might add, without me. James and Cassey can handle the escape. Besides if this plan works they won’t have to leave the ranch anyway.”
“Alright, you’re in partner, but let’s head back and tell the others what’s what. We don’t have much time.”
Trevor looked at Brown as the wind drove the first stench of death their way. “You got that right. Let’s get moving.”
.
.
Come back next weekend for the next episode of Brown’s dangerous journey into the second year of the Eternal Aftermath.
.
.
You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
.
.
The Climax of Rock and Rollie
A swarm of zombies filled the narrow canyon on one side of the unlikely pair, but it was the vehicle that roared toward Rollie that had him more concerned. Turning toward the mangy teen he said, “So you’re still going to convince whoever is driving that loud as hell ride that working together to fight these zombies is better than wasting bullets on each other just so the undead can have a warm meal?”
“I’ll do my best, but you guys have shot down three of my friends.”
“There is that,” Rollie said, while shading his eyes against the glare as the vehicle finally came into view. He drew back in shock at the size of the thing. This was no pickup, a full blow semi-truck whipped down the crumbling road toward them.
“Ooo, they’re busting out the big guns for you,” the teen said.
Rollie dropped his empty pistol and held up his hands as the truck raced toward him.
It skidded to a stop with a wild spray of gravel. A second later the window rolled down. “What the hell you doing? Pick up that gun and let’s get going.”
“Jack!”
“Who else would it be?” He could see the former bartender eying the approaching horde. “Who’s this kid?”
“I’m Chris.”
“Well Chris, if you feel like living, I suggest you come with us. Now grab those containers of water and get your asses in here.”
Rollie lifted two of the containers, which he had luckily already filled, and gave them to Chris. Chris was more than happy to take them and run into the back seat of the rig.
Throwing a look over his shoulder, Rollie saw that the horde was less than a hundred feet away. He bent down to get the last two plastic containers and cried out when a hand grabbed his wrist. He had forgotten about the teen he had shot in the chest and looked on in horror as its form raised itself out of the murky desert pool.
Jack might have yelled something, but Rollie couldn’t hear a word over the loud moan of the zombie that had him. His body had been in an awkward position and he wasn’t able to pull away. The brackish water flowed from its mouth as it leaned in toward him.
Rollie tried to pull his arm back while he fumbled for his knife. He had to abandon that goal when the thing moved in for a bite. He was forced to use his free hand to keep those teeth away from him by pushing against the dead teen’s forehead.
“Son of a…” he started, but then grabbed a hand full of the zombie’s hair and pulled it toward him. The undead had been on his knees and fell forward with a large splash. Water stung his eyes, but Rollie kept pulling and finally his wrist came free.
With the sounds of the advancing horde burning his ears, he yelled, “Screw you!” and kicked the teen in the head. Drawing his knife, he dashed forward and thrust it deep into its left eye while it attempted to rise. The teen fell back with a groan. Leaving his knife there, he grabbed the last two water containers and run to the truck just as a dozen undead reached out their filthy arms for him.
Jack didn’t wait until the door was shut, as soon as Rollie was inside, he floored it into the trashing bodies of the dead. Grim faced and silent, Jack drove over the bodies by the score.
Rollie felt like they road over a field of boulders and thought they’d get stuck more than once, but the ride proved to be big enough to take them through the horde and out the smashed gate. By the time they reached the parking lot the horde had thinned enough that the foul sounding meaty whacks dropped down to only one every few seconds.
Jack broke the silence. “Looks like we made it.”
“But at such a cost, for only twelve gallons of water.”
“You got that right and I don’t think we’ll be able to go back there again.”
“Nope, no one will.”
They road in silence for a while and then Jack turned and favored him with a slight grin. “That’s okay, I always liked Tanque Verde Falls better anyway.”
.
.
Come back next weekend when we start a new journey into the second year of the Zombie Apocalypse
.
.
You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here
Zombies Through the Gate, F-ing Great
The crash of the gate being torn down still echoed though the canyon as Rollie yelled at the two armed teens. “That’s your gate’s coming down. We’re all in a world of trouble, so we have to decide real quick if we’re going to be working together or just providing the zombs with a warm dinner. You guys killed my…best friend, so after everything I think we’re more than even.”
“Even,” one of them yelled. “You just destroyed our home!” The youth ran straight at Rollie firing as he came. Bullets tinged off the boulder Rollie hid behind and kicked up dust when they hit sand.
Rollie had never been much of a shot. He had never learned how to fire a gun before the zombie apocalypse. He couldn’t even be sure how many bullets remained in his pistol, but he was sure that he sent them all at the angry teen.
His last shot hit the charging teen in center of his chest. He looked more surprised than hurt, but then tumbled back into the murky pool.
For a long moment, Rollie stood there just trying to catch his breath. He had never killed a man before and felt like he might faint, but the moans of the approaching horde drew him back to the present.
There was still one teen and Rollie was out of bullets.
“Hey, ah what’s your name kid?”
“Billy, I mean Bill.”
“Do you feel like having the day end without you being either shot or eaten?”
“Can’t say it would bother me.” Bill paused as the sounds of the zombies grew in volume. “I’m going to come out. Please hold your fire.”
“You have my word no shots will come from me.”
The teen, not much more than a boy really stepped out holding his pistol by putting one finger through the trigger guard.
“So how many of you are there and what’s your story?”
“Are you sure this is the best time?”
Rollie found the dead teen’s pistol. And tucked it into his belt while saying, “Give me the condensed version.”
“We were part of a private school that was camping out in the Catalinas. At first there were about twenty students and four teachers. Mr. Fennel brought us down here straight out of the mountains. We raided the area before it got too bad. He knew we’d need water so he set up this wall so we could keep ourselves mostly safe. Two of our teachers died before we finished and Mr. Fennel went out one morning and never came back. Our last teacher died of a heart attack six months ago and we’ve been on our own ever since.”
“A regular Lord of the Flies, huh?”
“I never read that book.” The teen was skinny with a tangled mess of orange hair. He looked like he was about to say something, when the first zombies came into view. “We had better get going.”
“How do I know I won’t be shot on sight?”
“Um, I’ll do my best to stop them, but we can’t stay here.”
“You got that right.” Rollie had just turned to start deeper into the canyon when the sound of a vehicle racing down the old road reached his ears. “Looks like we might be meeting your people faster than we thought.
.
.
Come back new weekend for the finish episode of Rollie’s journey into the first year of the Eternal Aftermath.
.
.
You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
.
.
Rock and Rollie
“I just can’t shoot a kid in the back,” Jack said, as he lowered his new rifle.
“I would tend to agree with you,” Rollie started, as he checked his pistol and found it loaded, “But if they come back with a dozen more kids that are less than happy that we have now killed two of their number, I think we might be in some serious trouble.”
“That and by the sounds of things zombies have already claimed the other side of this wall.” Stopping only long enough to loot a large hunting knife from the still warm body of the teen he’d just shot down, Jack continued. “We have little choice but to follow this through. We’ll never make it past the zombies without water and hopefully more gear.”
Looking in the direction the two teens had fled, Rollie asked, “But what makes our lives more valuable than theirs? There has been so much death already and all of it useless.” The loss of Will came bubbling up and left him barely able to breath.
Jack regarded him silently for a moment. “Death owns this world now. When the living try to assist death by making me join its ranks, I’m more than happy to return the favor and beat them to that punch. Now we need to quit yapping and get going.”
Then, without another word, Jack led the way around the rock formation and they jogged up the old road to the north. On either side of them pristine desert rose from the steaming sand. The area on this side of the wall appeared to be zombie free. Of the teens there remained no sign.
Rollie feared another sniper and the back of his neck prickled as he imagined a bullet hitting him at any moment. The desert cliffs and cactus offered a hundred hidden areas, but so far they made their way without issue.
They pair traveled anther hundred yards and found what they had originally been seeking. It wasn’t large and it appeared murky, but they before them they found more water than Rollie had seen in a year. The pool stretched twenty by thirty feet and may have reached his waist in its center.
Jack dropped his pack to the ground. “First things first, fill the containers we have and then stash the backpacks, but this isn’t going to work unless we find a vehicle and maybe not even then, but a place this organized should have some rides. We’re going to need one.”
“I don’t know, Jack, we could just head into the desert and circle around the horde.”
“And what have to do this again in a week? Screw that, and screw these people that think they have the right to Tucson’s best water supply. I don’t mind them setting up a base, but to shoot us on sight when we’re just trying to survive, fuck that.” Jack’s eyes blazed. “Stay here and fill those in case we have to go with your plan. I’m going to get a ride and I’m going to cut down anyone that tries to stop me.” A mirthless grin crossed his face and he finished with, “And I hope some of them do.”
Rollie stared at the man who was willing to take on who knew how many men instead of just taking their gallons and run. He took the time to dunk his head into the water and take in a few mouthfuls. It tasted brackish, but most likely it would be fit to drink. Then he focused on the task as hand. He spoke under his breath and he filled to big water bottles at the same time.
“I’m not sure what sort of testosterone overload that guy has, but he’s going to…” his voice traveled off when he heard movement in the hills behind him. Damn, he thought to himself, it would be just my luck to have to be the one to have to fight these delinquents by myself.
He listened and kept filing the containers and then put their lids on. All the while he scanned the cliffs with subtle movements. Play in cool, Rollie. Play it…
“Hold it right there asshole,” a young voice cried out.
Looking up suddenly caused droplets of water to arc out from his hair and splash before him into the pool.
There were two of them, but not the same ones who had fled away from him before. Each held a pistol pointed at him, but they were still on the cliffs on the opposite side of the pool—a good sixty feet away.
“Take that pistol off slowly and tell us where the other asshole is!” the one with darker brown hair yelled.
“““
Rollie knew he was a bad shoot, but hoped these teens might be just as bad. He’d always heard that in the real world hitting a moving target with a pistol proved difficult, but if they had been practicing on zombies over the last year it could go either way.
He went for it anyway. Drawing his pistol as quickly as his skills allowed, he got the first shots off as he got to his feet and sprinted to the rocks located on the north side of the pool.
They shot back and bullets ripped through the air like angry hornets. One sparked off a rock before him, but he kept running. Somehow he made it to the slabs of orange sandstone and drove behind them.
He listened.
He heard no sounds of new clips being driven home. Could these people be low on bullets? Perhaps they left in such great haste they forgot to grab them. He figured if that was the case they probably each only had a bullet or two left in their pistols. Still…one bullet is enough.
“Come out, you stupid thieving coward!” The brown haired teen demanded.
“Oh yeah,” Rollie called out. “Sounds like a great idea. You watched too many cops shows kid. And BTW, if you head toward me, you’ll be the one getting shot.”
The teens found cover and he could just hear their murmuring voices. But then he heard something else. A loud tearing sound disturbed the desert birds and two ravens took flight and soared over his head. Seconds later this was followed by an echoing crash.
“What the hell is that?” the teen shouted.
Rollie called back. “My guess is that all this shooting drew in enough zombs to tear through your gate. Now we can either work together or all die. What do you say?”
.
Enter a caption
.
Thanks for reading Rollie’s journey into the second year of the Eternal Aftermath and come back next weekend for a new episode.
.
.
You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!
.
.
Eternal Aftermath, A Zombie Apocalypse 