The Broken and the Dead

The next morning I awoke and could smell food cooking and I could hear voices I rolled over and saw that Billy was still crashed out so I shoved him awake and he groaned in response. I got up and as I exited the tent Mom pointed to the right of the tent,

“Boy’s room is over there Johnny.”

Lucy was hoping up and down with her never ending energy

“And the girl’s room is over there! You don’t get to go over there because.” she said.

I waved her off and went to do my business. When I got back everyone was up and talking except for Billy and Elaine, Billy was still sleeping I didn’t know where Elaine was so I asked

“Is Elaine still asleep?” Lucy ran a circle around me and hit me with Ronald Bear.

“No, no, no, Elaine is not asleep, but you, you, you have to wait to see!”

I sighed but I could tell by the mood of everyone that things were better as far as Elaine was concerned. Mom shoved a plate in my hand, I looked at it but wasn’t sure exactly what it was so I asked,

“Um Mom, what is this?”

It was Lucy once again who answered

“It’s spam and cheerios on toast just like the real bucket heads eat.”

Mom whispered “jarheads honey, its jarheads.”

Lucy grinned “Yep a whole buncha jars!”

I heard a laugh and looking around I could see Elaine; she sure looked different, she had cut her hair real short and had a red bandana tied around her head. She had rolled her jeans up to the top of her hiking boots like Tucker did and she was wearing what I was pretty sure was one of Dad’s shirts over a tube top. She had her rifle over her shoulder and was now wearing a holster, I could see it held poor Mr. Caulfield’s 7-shooter.

Old Man Tucker spoke then

“The ladies feel we should stay here one more day, and since it would help that car air out some I have no objections.”

Lucy added “and we know where the bashturn is going anyway!”

“LUCY! Don’t use language like that!” Mom yelled at her.

Elaine walked by Lucy and whispered “it’s bastard not bashturn kiddo.”

“EEEEEEEEELAINE!” Mom pretend yelled between gritted teeth, clearly flustered.

After breakfast (if indeed that is what it was) Mrs. Driscol laid out a list of chores for us. Billy and I were to count every single bullet of every single kind. We had gone through a lot of them the previous day. Elaine and Mom were cleaning all the guns with Old Man Tucker’s kit; and Mrs. Driscol and Old Man Tucker were going to use bleach on the inside of the wrecked SUV. Lucy was to make sure that whenever they emptied a bucket of dirty water she was to go and fill it with water from the well. After we finished our inventory Billy and I took a turn on watch, when Mom and Elaine finished with the guns they started a food inventory. Lunch came and went, Old Man Tucker went on watch and Billy, Lucy, Elaine and I resorted and repacked both SUVs. That afternoon we looked at the map, we figured we had gone about 150 miles in one day, not very far at all but then again we had been busy.

“That leaves about 180 to go.” Mom said.

Lucy added “as when crabs lie.”

“CROW FLIES” Old Man Tucker grumbled. “That’s what I said” Lucy agreed. We worked hard, prepared, reloaded and didn’t talk about Dad or Mr. Driscol or the Caulfield’s. All in all it was a good day, at least until the sun went down.

Things seemed relaxed that afternoon and evening. Dinner was a’la Mom and started with Dinty Moore vegetable soup that was “upgraded” (as she put it). After that we all had a brief meeting where issues were discussed, the meeting ended when Lucy pointed out that Ronald Bear should be armed like everyone else. After some debate the issue was tabled because of insufficient information. Lucy said that while she was cool to the idea of an armed bear, Ronald was very upset about the whole matter. After that we sat around the fire and several times I saw Elaine seeming to drift off again as if the shock and depression was trying to re-exert its authority over her. Each time she was able to shake off what Old Man Tucker once called “her black dog”. He explained that Winston Churchill suffered from these bouts of extreme sadness after he served in some place called Gallipoli. I nodded and tried to look wise but I didn’t know who Churchill was or where Gallipoli was. Eventually we were broke into pairs for guard duty. Old Man Tucker and Billy would go first, me and Mom second, and finally Elaine and Mrs. Driscol. We all settled in looking forward to the next day, looking forward to getting back on the trail of the Franks.

I was asleep when I was awakened by Old Man Tucker’s rifle fire and almost immediately the pop, pop, pop of Billy’s semi-auto. We grabbed our guns and scrambled out of the tent. Billy was near the barbeque pit and was firing down the hillside; I could hear OId Man Tucker cursing and I could hear the blows of his ham-like fists. I could see what appeared to be three people all entangled and rolling in the dirt. I saw Elaine and Mom heading for Mr. Tucker so I ran towards Billy to give him some help. All over the hillside I could see them, they were scattered here and there, in ones and twos. None were bunched up like they were two days before. They were faster than before, it was hard for us to hit any of them and if not for the rapid fire rifles I doubt I would have got any at all. As it was we tried to bring down those that were closest. I looked over my shoulder at Elaine who had taken out her pistol and was screaming for Mr. Tucker to hold them still. Mom stepped into my vision on one side, Mrs. Driscol on the other and their bolt actions fired over and again, with a bright “ping” sound when the magazines would drop through to the ground followed by a scramble and a new 3 round clip pressed home.

Old Man Tucker screamed as one of the crazies bit hard onto his right bicep and blood sprayed across the ghoulish face. The second crazy was pressing hard on his left arm so that it was pushed behind him, in response Old Man Tucker’s face was contorted in pain, no, not pain, agony. He snapped his head forward and the top of his skull crashed into the biter, there was a sickening crunch of bone and the slender crazy was hammered backwards. Enough of a separation was created that Elaine was able to hold her revolver just inches away from its head and she pulled the trigger. She turned to see that Old Man Tucker had rolled over on top of the much lighter crazy, he had his right hand on the things throat blood running down his arm pooling on the ground beneath them. Elaine headed towards them but another crazy ran into the camp; it sprinted towards Elaine and tackled her, her revolver was sent flying from her grasp.

Old Man Tucker leaned forward onto the crazy his fingers digging into its throat, he pressed with all his weight; he was screaming at it, demanding it to die. Old Man Tucker’s left arm hung uselessly at his side. Meanwhile Elaine was beating at the crazy’s face with both fists, her blows keeping its snapping jaws away from her. Suddenly the crazy’s face caved inwards following a violent explosion and Elaine shoved the body from her. She rolled over and saw Lucy was lying on her back, looking at the sky, and held in both hands the smoking Nagant revolver. Elaine scrambled to her feet and rushed to her sister’s side. She checked Lucy out and she seemed physically uninjured. Elaine took the revolver and rising she lifted Lucy to her feet.

“Stay close to me Luce, right next to me.” and with wide eyes Lucy nodded in agreement.

Old Man Tucker raised himself, supporting his entire weight on his right hand; suddenly there was an audible crack as the crazy’s neck was shattered so badly the head was barely held on. Old Man Tucker staggered to his feet, his face pale from loss of blood, his eyes glazing over. He staggered a bit and with his bloody right hand he pulled one of the Colt “Thunderers”; he leaned forward and walked toward the fire ring slowly lifting the hog leg to firing position. There were bodies in the long grass; the high rate of fire from our semi-auto .22s was effective at that range. Many of the bodies had numerous holes in them. Mrs. Driscol and Mom were firing at any slow moving crazies, but the circle was closing in. That was when Old Man Tucker walked right past us towards the crazies; the revolver barked; his first shot a direct hit but the second a miss and so was the third. As they closed on him their flanks became open to the fire of me and Billy and our Mom’s. The crazies’ attention was focused on the big, bleeding old man. He seemed to get his stride back and the next two rounds flattened their targets. The 41 long colts’ rounds were big and devastating if not the most modern in our arsenal. His last round spun one around but didn’t put it down. It was like they were waiting for this and they charged. Old Man Tucker threw his revolver and nailed one right between the eyes stunning it. He tried to pull his second revolver but he was buried under a half dozen bodies. All of them fighting to get a hold of him; their claw-like fingers flashing, wanting to tear him apart, jealous of each other, wanting to devour the biggest portion possible. Billy screamed; his last magazine empty he pulled his .22 revolver and charged. I yelled and followed him. I could hear Mom yelling

“Johnny NO!” but we had to try.

I could hear them behind us and I knew Mom and Mrs. Driscol were coming too. We fired at anything that resembled the back of a head and in mere moments it was over. We pulled the last bodies away and there was Old Man Tucker on his back, his body covered in bruises and blood; open, crescent shaped wounds oozing bright red. His face was beaten so badly both eyes were swollen shut and there were three parallel gashes running from his forehead to his jawline on the left side of his face. He wasn’t moving. Mrs. Driscol knelt beside him and leaned over so that her ear was by his mouth,

“He’s breathing! Help me get him over to the fire.”

We were all there and I found out first hand just how heavy Old Man Tucker was, we all had to pitch in to move his considerable bulk. Even Lucy had one combat booted foot held in both hands as she grunted and groaned in effort. We placed him on a blanket between the barbecue and the well. Lucy immediately started to fill the same bucket she had been in charge of earlier; Elaine appeared with one of the med kits we had assembled. Mrs. Driscol cut his shirt away with a pair of scissors and then undid his belt and started to cut his jeans away. No one said anything or made any jokes as the Old Man was reduced to nothing but his underwear and socks. Mom started to dab hydrogen peroxide at the bite marks and they immediately began to react she eventually gave up and just poured it into each of them. Pale pink foam erupted from a dozen bites and almost as many claw induced gashes.

“Elaine, can you get the kit from the other car please?” Mom asked.

Elaine didn’t say anything but she ran towards the other car to get what was requested. I looked around and I saw Billy he was visibly shaking, trembling as he reloaded his rifle’s magazines as quickly as he could. I went over to him and started doing the same thing. The crazies might be back at any moment, we had to be ready. I looked in the box of Remington .22 hollow points and realized that in 48 hours we had gone through more than half of our supply. Well, nothing to be done for that right now, I started to look around the camp site.

“LUCY!” I called and she ran over to me; Ronald Bear safely in her arms.

“Yeah Johnny?” she asked, no silliness, no rhymes, or songs.

At this moment in time, this little girl was all business.

“Lucy, can you go and pick up Tucker’s guns and bring them over here by us? Don’t worry Billy and I will watch out for you.”

Lucy didn’t smile she just turned and ran towards the corpse covered hillside. It took her a minute but she found both Colts then she dragged the long Moisan rifle over as well. Elaine came over by us, her face smudged with blood laced dirt. She had a big plastic tub, the one we kept in the blue SUV with half of our ammunition. She emptied the spent shells from her Nagant and reloaded it. Without being asked Lucy fetched both Mom’s and Mrs. Driscol’s Lebel rifles. Then she began to scour the ground for the empty clips.

After we were rearmed, Billy, Lucy and I kept watch and Elaine gathered more firewood. We would only steal glances at Old Man Tucker on the ground. He looked like some sea creature stranded on a beach somewhere. His skin looked orange because of the reflection of the flickering firelight; it was obvious that he was pale from loss of blood and I knew that up till then he didn’t spend a lot of time outdoors. Mom and Mrs. Driscol had dabbed the wounds dry and had used some pre-threaded sutures to close the wound on his biceps and also on top of right shoulder. Then they cleaned everything again and rubbed it down with triple antibiotic cream. She was able to get two antibiotic tables down his throat by putting the capsules far back on his tongue his gently pouring water into his mouth so that he would respond by swallowing.