In the loft room she let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and pulled the door shut behind her, it didn't stay closed, but only crept open a few inches. 'Fuck it, I am not staying here anyway.'
She turned off her light and tucked it and the rifle ammunition into her pack. The keys went into her front pocket. By the time Katie was downstairs Kent had dragged Robert up the sidewalk to the door. Jess hesitantly swung the front door open, using the barrel of her gun instead of her hand. Katie paused on the stairs to wait for them to come in.
"It's okay, there aren't any zombies in here, just dead people." she said.
"Okay. It's dark. And smells bad."
"I didn't say the house was empty. The family committed suicide, it's a mess, you'll want to stay out of the master bedroom."
Robert and Kent continued to bicker, but at least the wounded man was walking, albeit with one arm around his spouse's shoulders. The boy, Bobby, brought up the rear, pointing the gun he had taken off of his dead sister behind him as he came in.
"Did you draw their attention?"
"Yeah." Bobby said.
"That's what got those two moving huh?" asked Katie as Kent dragged Robert into the bathroom on the ground level against his wishes.
"Uh-huh." Bobby hesitated, then asked, "Is my dad really going to die."
Katie held his gaze for a moment, then Bobby flushed and she asked, "How many zombies are out there?"
"I saw eight." said Jess quietly.
"Or nine." Bobby added, "More were coming."
"Yeah, noise seems to draw them. It's not the only thing though. I had good luck sleeping below ground once, which seemed to throw them off. What is the plan?" as soon as she asked Katie silently cursed herself, the kids would not know. True to expectation they shrugged.
"Get my dad to a hospital." Bobby said.
Katie shook her head, "No. Every brother and his dad brought their relatives who got bitten to the hospital; they are probably Zed central now. Not worth the risk. Besides there aren't any doctors there now."
"We can't just let him die!"
"We aren't letting him do anything. We didn't do this. I want to have some compassion for you, but I just…can't. I just can't. I'm sorry." Katie pointed to the kitchen, "Go see if they have any food we want. You, Jess, find a bowl and try to pour water into it from the tap, but find the bowl first. If the water is off a little might drain out and I bet your dads will want it to help get cleaned up."
Their dads did want it and more water too. Katie eventually had to go upstairs and raid the toilet bowl tank for more, but not before she and Bobby moved a heavy leather couch in front of the broken front door. As the men cleaned up Robert's bitten arm Katie eyed the glass patio doors nervously. So far no zombies had appeared in the back yard and only a couple were banging on the front door, but zombies doing something interesting tended to draw more zombies, like some sort of weird zombie herd mentality.
"Kent, we need to leave or I need to do something about those zeds out front. They will draw more of a crowd."
"We aren't ready. He is still bleeding badly." Kent said, pouring a bottle of hydrogen peroxide he had found in the linen closet over Robert's still bleeding avulsion.
"I'll take care of it then." Katie looked around the kitchen; she found what she wanted in the pantry closet, a box of recyclables, which included some empty two liter bottles.
"Watch that door Jess! I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Bobby you keep an eye on the back door. If either of you sees anything, yell. I am going into the garage, but will keep the door to the house open."
Katie took her flashlight with her and after a few minutes searching she found a healthy roll of duct tape, barely used. Nothing had gone super nova in the few minutes she was gone, but both kids seemed glad to see her. 'That's me, Katie; Idol to the disgruntled youth of the mid-west.'
She set the duct tape and empty bottle on the counter then picked up her new rifle. She had already checked it over while Kent was cleaning up Robert. It was not an heirloom; the thing was new, brand new; if it had been fired more than fifty times Katie would cut off her right tit. However, there was no one she cared to make that bet with now. She placed the rifle on the island counter top and fitted the empty bottle over the barrel. Using the duct tape she bound the bottle to the rifle barrel, then taped a spiral along the sides of the bottle and over its bottom. By the time she was done the bottle was pointed as straight out from the barrel as she could make it and though it sagged slightly.
"What are you doing?" asked Jess.
'Inquisitive youth, maybe she could learn to be worth something.' Katie answered her as if she were a younger soldier asking her for information, "I am taping this bottle to the barrel of the rifle, then I am going to shoot a couple of those persistent zombies in the head. The bottle will help deaden the noise when I fire the rifle by capturing the escaping gas from the bullet. It is not perfect, it won't be totally silent, but I doubt anything will hear it from even a block away."
"Oh, so others won't hear it. That looks simple."
"It is, and effective, but not perfect. After about three shots it is even less effective, and you either need to duct tape up the holes in the bottom." Katie pointed to the bottom of the bottle where the bullets would go through it, "Or get a new bottle. If you tape over the bottom like this it should prevent the plastic from shattering, but it could tear the bottle off the gun barrel too."
"Are you really are a sniper?"
"A markswoman, I have the same training, use the same equipment and test against the same targets as snipers."
"Why aren't you called a sniper?"
"Sexism. It's better than it was, but the army still tends to regulate women to support roles. You can get around anything if you try hard enough. Or have the skills."
"When did you go to the army?"
"Jess, now isn't the time. You and Bobby, get your guns, set them on the couch, then move the couch back about six inches, that should be enough for me to get this through the crack and cap a few of them. As soon as you put the couch down pick up your guns, but do not fire unless I tell you to or things really get out of hand."
"Out of hand?" asked Bobby, "What does that mean?"
"You'll know it when you see it."
Chapter 15 — Max
"Where the fuck is the old man going?" yelled Stewart as she took cover in the ditch.
"Huh?" grunted Max, landing beside her.
"Ruben, he's running for the truck! Oh gawd damn it, he's going for the nuke!" Stewart raised her voice and yelled out at Ruben, who was taking fire from an upper story of the hotel, "Leave it old man! We'll get it after we clean up this mess!" She started to rise out of the ditch, but several tuffs of grass flew up in front of her. Max realized it was from bullets striking the turf around them.
"Fire! Get some bullets back at them! Max locate that shooter!" yelled Bill as his friend sunk lower in the ditch. Even Stewart, no coward had fallen back from the barrage.
Max raised his shotgun and fired blindly, hitting nothing but air. He fired again without raising his body above the level of the ditch. Stewart looked at him, and shook her head, "What is that? Blind firing? You think you will hit anything with that?"
Max shrugged as more bullets threw up debris in the parking lot. Bill cautiously rose up and let off a three bullet burst with his rifle, "Max! I need you! Javier, c'mon and get up guys, if we don't we are gonna get mobbed!"
"This was a bad idea. We should have moved on to the next exit." Max muttered, rising above the edge of the ditch.
"Too late now, we gonna save Ruben's wrinkly old ass or not?" Stewart asked.