“I knew they were zombies because they were talking about me. One said he had seen me floating down the river, the other said he was crazy and didn't like being out in the open. Both of them went out onto the dock and I think they looked out into the river for me, when they didn't see anything they came back slowly and one spotted the area where I had half come ashore before. He said that was proof that there was human in the river and jumped down on the bank to look over the area. I was sitting stock still, praying he wouldn't see me, inevitably his eyes lifted and locked with mine. The one on the dock asked if he saw anything and as the one on shore started to answer the side of his head blew out onto the sandy grass beside him. The other one jumped off and started running and I heard another shot ring out. It was a sniper, of course, probably a for real army sniper not some guy with a twenty two because the zombie's head was…well missing for the most part. I knew we had a few sniper teams, but hadn't realized there were any around Sioux City. I owe whoever it was my life, because there was no way I could have defended myself right then. I mean what could I have done? Thrown a juice box at it? I devoured the stale chips and drank four of the juice boxes and then put my head down on a rolled up towel and fell asleep. There was no rush, I wasn't going back anyway.”
“Jesus Bill, what about Trish and the other kids? They still need you.”
“I know Max; I told you I wasn't thinking right.” Bill paused to take a long drink from his soda pop.
“Then what? Where'd you get the rifle?” asked Stewart.
“When I woke up the sun was in the east, low to the horizon. I had slept for almost twenty four hours. Sometime during the night I had rolled off of the towels and draped them on top of me for covers, everything was damp. My leg didn't hurt nearly so much either, it felt tender, more like a strain than a break. I checked myself over and found that I wasn't nearly as badly banged up as I had thought, I still had a scab on my head from where I got hit with the concrete from the bridge, but otherwise I felt good enough to find better shelter. First I drank the other two juice boxes and took a long piss in the river. My clothing was all soggy and smelled horrible, like I had been sweating all night. I eased back into the river and got out on the upstream side, only getting my pants wet in the process, it was a lot chillier once I was out of my hidey hole and the cool morning air was causing me to shiver. I had tucked the matches and candle into my shirt pockets, along with the flashlight. I had absolutely nothing useful with me otherwise, sure I had about twenty loose rounds of ammo for my army rifle, but no gun to fire it out of. The grenades I had on my belt were gone, as was my belt knife. Oh, I still had my army issue identification card, which isn't real useful for braining zombies either.”
“On the river bank I looked up at the house in front of me, it was set well back from the shore up a steep incline. The grass between me and the house was cut short and covered with morning dew. My paranoia was running pretty high because of how the zombie had seen where I came ashore the day before. I went back under the dock and climbed up the ladder instead of going ashore where I would leave tracks. My leg was aching, but held my weight. I got up on the dock and took the stairs and sidewalk up to the back door of the house so I wouldn't leave a trail through the dew either. There was one body lying on the shore of the river, the other one must have gotten away. The patio door had been broken out from the inside, there was broken glass all over outside, some with blood on it.”
“I moved the blinds to one side of the doorway and looked into the house, it looked deserted, but I couldn't tell for sure, I mean I could only see the kitchen and dining room. The place was a mess, the table and chairs were broken apart all over the floor, there was a wooden table leg sticking out of the wall too. I stepped in and grabbed that leg, it would have to do as a club until I found a better weapon. The place was two stories, but didn't have a basement. I was pretty sure I would hear someone if they were moving around upstairs, and so far I hadn't heard a thing. I went into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, it was well stocked with food, but it had been awhile since the outbreak and some of it was nasty looking. I pulled out everything that still looked okay to eat, fruits, vegetables, some packaged lunch meat, cheese, I was starving. The cupboard held some moldy bread, but there were crackers that still looked okay so I made myself a big plateful of the stuff. I had just turned back to look in the refrigerator for some mustard, when a voice called out softly behind me.”
“It was a raspy, whispering voice and it said, 'Here doggie-doggie! Feeding time at the old bowl, is it?' I shut the door, spun around and grabbed the table leg off of the counter. It was a zombie, I couldn't tell if it was the one from the day before, but the next thing it said confirmed it. 'I guess old Alan was right, there was some guy floating down the river after all. Where you been hiding little doggie?'”
“This guy was middle aged, he had black hair cut short, kind of like 'Mo' off the three stooges, normally a bad looking cut, but it suited him. He was not wearing a shirt, but had a bloodstained towel hanging over one shoulder and dried blood smeared down his right side into the waistband of his track shorts. His legs stood out, he had a tattoo on his left thigh, some sort of bird and he had shaved his legs. He was wearing flip flops, blue ones, and he was just standing there looking at me. I was starving and scared and now the adrenaline started coursing through my body. The zombie took a step forward and spoke again, 'Fight or don't fight, either way, at the end of the day you will be following me out of here.' I raised my free hand towards him and said, 'Wait up a minute buddy' and the zombie actually paused while I stuffed three of the cracker and cheese stacks into my mouth from off of the plate. Those crackers had to be the best thing I had ever tasted. He stood there looking amused while I crunched them down and told me he would make it easy on me, 'cause I seemed like a nice guy. That kind of made me mad, he would make it easy on me because I was nice?”
“I had found some Gatorade in the fridge and washed the cracker's down with it, then nodded to him and said, 'Thanks. I will try and make it easy on you too, you don't seem so bad yourself.' I was still quivering in my boots, this was the first conversation I had had with a zombie and I didn't like the way it had been going. He laughed at me and asked 'You wanna say any prayers or anything before I bring you over onto my side of life?' I shook my head and gestured him to get on with it. He smiled and rushed me, just that quick. I fell back and stumbled as my hurt leg rolled beneath me. That fall probably saved my life; the zombie bum rushed right into the wall, he had gotten tripped on me as I fell. His head hit right where the table leg had been and disappeared through the wall. I didn't get up, I rolled onto my stomach and swung my club into his ankle, his leg gave out and he screamed as he titled sideways, but his goddamned head Max! He couldn't pull it out of the wall! I think it was caught up on the lower edge of the drywall, he started smashing the wall with his hands and I used the time to stand up. The zombie finally pulled his head out of the wall filling the room with a dusty cloud of chalky drywall pieces. And that is when I gave him an overhand, two fist-ed blow to the top of his head with the table leg, this time the leg and his head broke.”
“He fell straight down with the force of the blow, but he wasn't finished. I am sure I broke his skull, but I guess I didn't do enough damage to his brain. Oh I had hurt him bad alright, he was only mumbling incoherently now, the same word over and over — 'mommy-mommy-mommy' as I looked for something else to finish him off with. The chair legs were too narrow, but I broke a couple of them across his head anyway. I couldn't find any other table legs either, after the fight I noticed how they were all missing. Finally I got a butcher knife from the kitchen counter and stuck it through the weak spot in the thing's head. Once it was truly dead I stood up and went back to looking for the mustard. It is amazing how quickly you get used to things. I mean here I was scrounging for food, then the next minute I was fighting for my life, then I was back looking for stuff to make my food taste better.”