Turning back to the house, Lance stepped back and saw the woman holding a big dry erase board. “Can we come over there?” was written across it. Lance shook his head exaggeratedly to drive the point home. Lowering her binoculars, the woman wiped the board off and wrote on it.
“Please we know Doug,” Lance read as she held up the board, and he shook his head again and held up his hand for her to wait. Taking off, Lance ran downstairs to Doug’s office. He grabbed a notebook but thought better and looked around. He saw a desk pad calendar lying on the desk. Rolling it up, Lance found a marker and took off back upstairs.
Ripping off one of the large pages from the pad, Lance wrote in big letters, “Doug said no one in and any that try shoot them.” He held up the note then grabbed his binoculars.
He waited as he watched the woman write then hold up the board. “You have food, we saw you unload ice chest yesterday.” Lowering his binoculars, Lance shook his head, and the woman disappeared from the window, and a man looked at him with binoculars. As the man turned around, Lance raised his binoculars and saw he was talking with someone.
The man grabbed the board and held it up. “Let us in or we will take your house and kick you out.” Reaching forward and grinning broadly, Lance extended his middle finger. The man dropped the board and turned around. When he looked back at Lance, the man held up a pistol.
Lance set the binoculars down and held out both hands, extending both middle fingers, and watched the man disappear from the window. “Making friends I see,” Ian said, walking up beside him wearing all his gear.
“They said they will take the house and kick us out,” Lance said, pulling his AR to his chest.
“They could try,” Ian laughed.
Reaching down, Lance opened the small box he got from Uncle Doug’s desk and pulled out a Benchmade switchblade. He clipped it in his back pocket. “Think I should shoot up their house?”
“Nah, do that, and they would be more likely to come over.”
“Hello, boys,” Jennifer said behind them. They turned to see her carrying a tray with plates and cups of coffee. “Lots of cream, lots of sugar,” she said, putting the tray down and saw the large sheet of paper with the note. “That’s blunt,” she said, looking over at the house.
“Just wanted to make sure they understood,” Lance said and told her the conversation.
“Let’s shoot their house up,” Jennifer snapped, spinning around and looking at the house angrily.
“How about after breakfast?” Ian laughed.
The three sat and ate looking over at the house. “You two ready for tonight?” Jennifer asked.
Lance set his cup down. “Are you?”
“I’m scared my parents might show up after we leave, but I can’t wait on them. They may never show up.”
“That’s right, so you ready to learn your AR?” Lance asked, standing up.
Clapping as she jumped up, she cheered, “Better believe it.”
Picking up the chest rig, Lance put it on her and took off her clip-on holster and magazines. Sighing, he started making adjustments, and Ian moved to the other side to mirror him, and they took as much slack out of the chest rig as they could. Seeing that it fit her small stature fairly well, they moved to the drop platforms at Jennifer’s knees.
Making the maximum adjustments, they moved them up to Jennifer’s thighs. Getting up, Lance grabbed her Ruger and pulled it out then took the end cap off the barrel. Ian handed him a suppressor, and Lance screwed it on, putting the pistol back in the holster. Swapping out the grips to the smallest ones on an XDM, they handed it over and saw it fit her tiny hands.
“Hold your left arm up,” Lance said, moving over, and clipped the holster on like his. “What do you think?”
Jennifer looked down at herself. “This shit is heavy as hell.”
“Yes, it is,” Lance laughed.
“Company’s coming,” Ian said behind them. They turned to see a man and woman holding hands with a man in front of them, running from the house Lance was trading messages with. The man in front was carrying a pistol and heading straight for them.
“Got your radio on?” Lance said, looking over at Ian.
“Yeah, I like Doug’s better than ours,” Ian said, stepping back from the window.
“I’ll go and talk to them, and you two stay up here,” Lance said, walking out.
Jennifer watched the group run around a stinker. “Think they can shoot through the door?” She asked as a stinky trotted after the group.
“With a pistol, no way,” Ian laughed. “Uncle Doug’s house is brick with metal shutters like the cabin. Granted, the ones at the cabin are much thicker. He said he had to put all this in here so his insurance company would cover all the stuff he kept here. The only windows they might be able to shoot through are the ones upstairs. They are storm windows like the ones on Lance’s house.”
“Like this one?” Jennifer asked, pointing at the window they were looking out of.
Ian nodded. “Yeah, Uncle Doug said he wasn’t putting those shutters up here. If someone wanted to grab a ladder and break in, then he didn’t care because they would have to carry stuff out down the ladder with the alarm going off. When the doors are locked, you still need a key to get out. Then, you have Dino in here waiting on them,” Ian explained, watching the group run past another stinky and jumping over the mass of dead stinkers Doug had littered the area with.
“Should we step back more?”
“They raise that pistol up here, and I’m shooting at them. That pistol
might
make it through the window. I
know
this will,” Ian said, holding up his AR.
Downstairs, Lance stood by the front door, looking at the small monitor that showed who was at the storm door. He watched them run up, try the handle, then beat on it. The woman reached over and hit the doorbell.
Smiling, Lance pressed the intercom button. “May I help you?”
Hearing Lance’s voice, the three froze and looked around then saw the intercom. Stepping over to press the button, the man with the gun shouted, “Open the door; we have sick people chasing us!”
“Sorry, that’s not the password,” Lance chuckled.
“Listen, you snot-nosed little brat, let us in, or I’m going to kick your ass!” the man shouted, and Lance turned the volume down on the intercom.
“I’m sorry, but you can huff and puff, but you can’t come in.”
The man with the gun stumbled back as the other man stepped over to the intercom. “We know where you live, Carver,” he said, letting the woman’s hand go and turned, pointing to Lance’s house. “We’ll trash and burn your house down.”
“Shit, go ahead,” Lance laughed. “It’s full of sick people; why the hell do you think we ran to Uncle Doug’s? I closed the garage door so they couldn’t get out and follow us. But hey, you want to go in with them? Be my guest, but you aren’t coming in here.”
They all looked at each other in shock, then the man with the gun hit the intercom. “Kid, open this door, or I’m about to start shooting.”
“Then you don’t really know Uncle Doug; that storm door will stop pistol fire, and the door behind it will stop rifles just like the windows. But just a word to the wise: You shoot, and infected show up, and we’ll shoot back at you just for fun.”
“God damn it, kid, open this fucking door!” he shouted, raising the pistol.
The radio bud in Lance’s ear went off with Ian’s voice. “That dude needs to shut the hell up. Five just came out around the side of the house, and a small group is coming from across the street.”
Lance pushed the intercom button and could see movement behind the group on the screen he was watching them on. “You’re attracting a crowd, dumbass. That little girl pistol you are holding can’t hold more than seven rounds in a clip. You need to get back in your house and leave us alone.”
“I’m an adult, boy,” the man bellowed, and Lance heard him without the intercom. “Open this door right fucking now. I have a gun!”
Shaking his head, Lance replied, “Mine’s bigger. Why don’t you go use a tampon, or I’ll use one on you?”
Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop—click
sounded outside, and Lance heard the plinks and pings as the bullets hit the door. Beside the man holding the gun, Lance saw the man with the woman grab his chest and collapse to the ground. The monitor Lance was watching was color, and he saw the man’s chest turn red with blood.
“Adam, you shot Frank!” the woman screamed, kneeling down.
“No I didn’t; they did!” he yelled, waving the empty gun at the door as Lance heard footsteps running down the stairs.
Hearing Jennifer and Ian behind him, Lance pressed the intercom. “No, douche, we would’ve shot you, Adam. You need to run. Look behind you and to your right. I’m going to get a tampon to use on your ass now.”
Adam looked at the door, seething and holding his empty pistol as the woman looked up where Lance told them. “Adam, help me get Frank!”
Adam turned, and the anger left his face, replaced by panic. “Leave him; we have to run!” he shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her across the yard, angling away from the group of stinkers. A male stinky trotted faster than the others, holding out his arms and growling.
The woman yanked away from Adam. “He’s my husband. Help me!” she screamed, pushing away from Adam. The faster stinky grabbed her, biting her on the left shoulder. A blood-curdling scream pierced the neighborhood.
Kicking and swinging around, the woman broke the stinky’s hold and fell down as Adam took off, leaving her on the ground. Crawling away backwards, the woman got far enough away she stood up to see the new group on the street heading into the yard. She held her bleeding shoulder and looked around at both groups of stinkers closing in.
Seeing the destroyed Escalade, she ran over and climbed on the hood and pulled herself up to the roof as the stinkers surrounded her. Lance watched the screen as Adam tried to dodge the group of stinkers that broke off the ones coming across the road, but one managed to grab Adam’s shoulder. Breaking the hold, Adam spun and lost his balance, tripped, and hit the pavement hard.
Adam never had a chance to even crawl as four stinkers dropped down on him. The screams could easily be heard inside. The three watched in morbid fascination as one stinky stood up, holding one of Adam’s arms with the empty pistol still clutched in its hand.
“I’m going to be sick,” Ian said as one stinky stood up with a long piece of gut, chewing on one end.
“Uuuggghhhh,” Jennifer gagged, puking as she turned away from the screen. Ian doubled over, joining her, as Lance turned back to the lady on top of the Escalade. Fighting not to puke from what he’d seen and the smell of vomit around him, Lance watched the stinkers around the SUV reaching for her.
“They’re so stupid. The stinkers want her but don’t know to climb up,” Lance mumbled, swallowing his upchuck.
“Huh,” Ian said, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm.
Lance pointed at the monitor. “They are reaching for her, and some are even jumping. Kind of,” he said, watching some of the infected give little hops, reaching for the woman. “They could climb up or even use the running boards, but they don’t. Look, some are even pushing the Escalade. They can’t think out a problem.”
“Dude, they just ripped that Adam guy apart like they were looking for a prize inside, and you’re trying to figure out their thought process?” Ian said, stepping back from the puddles of puke.
“If we don’t understand them or get an idea to understand them, we are dead. Those three thought they could out move them but got trapped,” Lance said, looking at Frank lying on the walkway to the front door. “They aren’t even going after Frank.”
“He’s dead,” Jennifer said, stepping over to the couch.
“Not yet he’s not.” Hearing sobs, Lance turned around and saw Carrie and Allie curled up, hugging each other and crying softly. Lance spun on his heel and marched upstairs then came back carrying an ammo box. He opened it on the coffee table and confirmed it was full of loose 9mm ammunition; that’s why they didn’t pack it. Heading to the kitchen, he came back with two boxes of zip lock sandwich bags.
“Carrie, Allie, I need you to count out nineteen shells and put them in a bag. That’s what all of our pistols hold in a magazine. If we shoot something and empty our magazine, we need to know it’s full without having to count shells as we load them. Can you two start that?” Lance asked as they stopped crying, listening to him.
They both nodded. “Can we do it at the kitchen table?” Allie asked, getting off the couch. Lance grabbed the stuff, moving it to the kitchen table for them. When he came back to the monitor, he saw Ian and Jennifer cleaning the upchuck.
When they had the majority up, Lance said, “Ian, take Jennifer to the den, and go over the AR with her.” Happily, the two left as Lance watched the stinkers outside and glanced at his watch every few minutes. Almost half an hour after being attacked, Frank, or what was left of Frank, started crawling around.
When Adam stood up, Lance looked at his watch and saw it took almost an hour, and the stinkers around the Escalade had moved away, but the lady was still whimpering, or it looked like it from the way her chest and body were moving. “I’m going upstairs to the lookout room,” Lance said and headed upstairs.
Grabbing a chair, he pulled it over to the window and picked up the notebook he had brought up earlier. Setting his AR down, Lance pulled out an ink pen and wrote across the top of the first page, “Stinkers,” then he started making numbered entries. Pausing occasionally, Lance would look out the window.