Engineer Benson - 8. Chapter 8 - July 22, 1993

July 22, 1993 Thursday, 720 AM

I think we're as prepared as we can be for our trip into town. We've got our three gas cans, our generator, a few crates to carry things in, empty backpacks, and more. We packed some jerky, water, and nuts too, just in case we ended up out there longer than we'd planned.

The top things on the list are gas, the hardware store for wire, tools, and whatever else catches our eye, the grocery store, and Garrett wants us to drop by the bookstore too. There's a series called the "Foxfire Books" he wants. Of course, in addition to the books, we will try to find his mom and sister.

His mom is Erin, and his sister is Lisa. We've got their address - it's actually pretty close to the fire-station on the way into town. Their house is on one of the little side streets off the main drag. It's fenced in the back, while the front has a low, decorative picket. Hopefully, that means it won't be totally overrun.

Garrett is situated in the garden and is protected behind our new fence. He jumped at the chance to do something and is already out there weeding away. Though I noticed he wore his hatchet, and the bow he'd made is leaning against the picnic table, along with a few arrows. It's not a bad idea. I guess we should all be armed anytime we're outside.

I want to spend more time with him. He has to be processing a lot of stuff, and though he's quiet, I know he probably needs to talk. Man, I hope we find what's left of his family. That'd be such a huge lift for him. I've already moved things around in the van, so there's room if we do find them.

Speaking of which, I've checked over the van to make sure she's in good working order. It wouldn't do to have us stall in a group of zombies. The vehicle is tough, but enough thumping on a window would break it. And I don't even want to imagine that scenario.

Okay. We're headed out. I'll write more later.

July 22, 1993 Thursday, 1215 PM

Man, this family is made of some tough stock. We found them, and though they're a little rough and ragged, they're okay. They're following us in their station wagon and towing a trailer loaded down with everything we could put on it.

When we pulled up in front of their place, we found that station wagon in the driveway, a boarded-up house, and half a dozen dead zombies in the front yard. Three of the dead had followed the van from the corner, and we quickly dealt with those.

Mark approached the door and rapped three times. Listening carefully, he heard movement from behind the closed and locked barrier.

"Hey." He said, just loud enough to carry through the wood. "Erin or Lisa, Garrett sent us. We're here to get you out of here."

A few seconds later, the curtains moved, and a woman peered out, assessing us, then she disappeared. Moments passed, and the door opened. She held a broom handle with a long butcher knife attached with wire and duct tape at the end - a makeshift but deadly spear.

"Garrett?" Hope and suspicion both played across her features. She wet her lips. "He's okay? He and Scott are okay?"

"I'm sorry. Just Garrett. Scott's gone." Mark said.

She swallowed, then nodded. "Let me tell Lisa. I want her to hear it from me." I knew that until we'd shown up, she'd already accepted that she'd lost both her husband and son. So to find out her son was alive was a gift. Yet, knowing for sure you've lost someone you love still hurts.

She opened the door to allow us inside. Once in, I shut it behind me. "We're at the farmstead on the southern edge of town. Not sure if you knew 'em, but it was Bob and Shelly's place."

"Was." She sighed deeply. "So they're gone too." Erin didn't wait for an answer. She walked down the hall and knocked on a door. "It's me, hon. We've got company - the living kind."

The door cracked open. Lisa held a machete, and her eyes flicked over both Mark and me. She looked about thirteen, and I'd find out later I wasn't far off. She shared her mother's blue eyes, and both had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of their noses and faces. She opened the door and gave us a nod. "Hi."

"Hi. So, look, I don't know how many more might have followed us," Mark began, "But we probably don't have a lot of time. Do you have anything you need to take along? Food, tools, anything?"

"What? We're leaving?" Lisa asked. "What if Dad and Garrett come-"

"Hon, Garrett is at their place." Erin put an arm around her shoulders. "And, ah. Dad isn't-" She took a breath. "Dad isn't comin' home."

"Oh." Lisa welled up, but since the moment demanded it, she held herself together. She wiped her eyes. "Okay." She turned to her mother. "Garrett is okay?"

"That's what they're sayin'. And we're going to him."

The girl nodded. "Okay. I'll get our water."

Mark shook his head. "That's not needed. We've got a well. But if you have food or anything you want to keep, let's get that loaded up in the van."

"We've got a trailer in the garage," Lisa said. "It's already loaded up with most of our gear and food, in case we had to move fast. We'll follow you to the farm in our car and tow the trailer."

"Well, that works." Mark rubbed his chin. "We've got a few more stops to make first. If you'd like, you can follow us or head to the farm if you know the way."

"I do, but you two are the first living people we've seen since this started." Erin gripped her spear. "Though we want to see Garrett, we’d rather help however we can." Lisa nodded in agreement.

Mark looked back and forth between the two determined women. A smile flickered on his lips. "All right. Let's get your trailer hooked up. Grab anything else you want. We're headed to the gas station first."

After about five minutes, the ladies had gathered a few things not already loaded on the trailer.

"Here. Take a walkie-talkie." Erin handed Mark the device. " We've got the other three in the car. They've got a quarter-mile range, and we're on channel two."

Mark smiled and clipped it to his belt. "Thanks. These'll be handy."

"You're welcome. We've still got room in the station wagon if we need it." Erin tossed a backpack into the back of the long, wide car. While she did, Lisa held her machete ready at the end of the driveway and scanned the street. They seemed to work well together without a lot of discussion. I guess they've had to learn.

Okay. We've driven to within a block of the gas station and been parked a bit to make sure we've lost as many as possible before pulling in. It has been ten minutes now, and there's no sign we can see beyond some clumped up blocks away. Wish us luck - we're headed in, then we'll get moving to the hardware store, the grocer, and to the bookstore too.

Here we go.

July 22, 1993 Thursday, 550 PM

God, I’m tired and need to see to the van's condition. But that will have to wait until tomorrow. Finding Mr. Buck made any damage to the machine worth it. The poor bastard - I never thought I'd see that hippy again, but we found him! Okay. I'm gonna back up to where I left off.

The gas station was something of a mess. Abandoned vehicles littered the parking lot, along with bodies too. I think they were folks trying to get gas after the power died. We immediately noticed that those on the ground had head injuries - either bullets or brute force trauma. I guess they panicked and fought each other when they realized the pumps weren't working. Most don't think about the fact that pumps need power to run, and without a generator that gas is as good as sealed in a vault.

Of course, we had some zombies to clear. Those would be the ones without the head trauma. They staggered among the cars and trucks, and I pulled out my baseball bat rather than the axe this time. Erin stood at my shoulder with her spear while Lisa hovered back at the van, watching for any that might come up on us from the street. Mark slipped between the vehicles, ending them with quiet, fast strikes from his knife. Together, we downed nine in rapid fashion. Instead of controlled panic, there was just control, and we methodically ended the zombies in the area.

After that we pushed the cars blocking the pumps out of the way, then I pulled the van into place and unloaded the generator. We hooked it up and got the pumps going. Mark checked inside, and after he'd determined the way was clear, he and Lisa took some bags from the van and then reentered the station. I pumped gas while Erin checked the fallen bodies and vehicles for anything useful.

Ten minutes later, we loaded all the jerky, snacks, junk food, canned goods, and soda Mark and Lisa had found in the station. Along with that, we scored motor oil and two more gas cans. I filled all our gas jugs (that's five three-gallon jugs), and then we topped off the station wagon too. We'll be set for gas for a while now. We also picked up three full propane tanks and loaded them onto Erin's trailer. I'd forgotten the station sold those, and that was a happy surprise - I'll be able to keep my propane cutter topped off with them, so I'm worried less about running out of juice for that.

Next, we headed toward the hardware store. I wanted wood glue, more files, clamps, and a couple more handsaws. Strapping, rope, buckets, and canning supplies would be welcome too if we could find them. Really, I wanted to walk the aisles and grab whatever looked useful and could fit in the space we had left.

We caravaned over to the hardware store, avoiding little groups of the dead shambling after us. I wasn't overly afraid for the van, even if we hit some of the things. With the welded plates on the front and back, it looked like something out of Mad Max. I'd even worked a bit on the undercarriage and got some rebar welded into strategic places that wouldn't interfere with maintenance or the chassis, just for additional protection if we ran any over. I'd come to be very thankful for that.

We rounded the corner, a few blocks from our destination, and that's when we saw him.

A big, barrel-chested man had a hockey stick in his hands. Almost surrounded by a huge knot of zombies, he bared his teeth and swung. The makeshift weapon impacted what used to be a woman in a dress reaching for him, and the head of the monster caved in under the force.

Unfortunately, so did his weapon. It splintered in his hands, but he immediately reached for a baseball bat he had strapped to his back.

"COME ON!" Now rearmed, he swung again, and another zombie went down. He was a force of nature, screaming in the face of a tide of undead. But there was no way he'd survive. There were just too many - more than I've ever seen. So many they crowded the street and tripped over one another in their haste to reach him.

Even from my position, a football field away, I saw the surprise register on his face at our appearance around the corner.

"I'm going for him! Tell Erin to stop!"

I punched it and lay on the horn.

Those at the back of the herd turned toward us.

Mark keyed the walkie-talkie. "Erin! Stop, and stay in the car!"

I didn't hear the response. I white-knuckled the wheel and approached the herd at forty miles per hour.

"Oh, shit!" Mark hung on.

The big man with the baseball bat scrambled to the side, and a few zombies followed him, but most were now interested in the van. That suited me absolutely fine.

We slammed into the first three, sending them broken and flying away. Then we entered the thick of the herd. The sounds were like nothing I'd ever experienced. Snarls, snapping of bone, and the sickening sound of rotten heads exploding under wheels.

Fingernails scraped the sides as we drove through. I got to the other side of the herd, looked over my shoulder, and put it in reverse. We took out another van-width chunk of the herd as I backed through the hellish things.

"How's the big guy doing?" I asked Mark, too focused on my task to check on the man we tried to save.

"He's got three on him, but he's handling them!" Mark gritted his teeth as we started another forward run. One of the zombies flew up and over the van, landing in a heap behind us. It moved feebly on the pavement after, unable to stand. "Holy shit!"

"Sorry girl. Hold together for me. Just a little more." I prayed the van wouldn't stall or be damaged too much by the massacre. Now close to the guy, I realized who he was. "It's Mister Buck! Holy crap!"

"Stop! I'm gonna help him!" Mark timed things just as I came to a halt; he jumped out, his knife at the ready. A couple turned away from the van toward him, but a few honks of the horn brought them back to me.

"That's right, you fuckers. Come to poppa." I backed up, ending the ones that'd fallen due to broken limbs, and most of the ones left standing staggered after me.

After a final run forward, only a couple remained, and those Mark and Mr. Buck dispatched with brutal efficiency.

Finally, I stopped the van. Getting out, I turned to survey the scene.

Over a hundred zombies lay in the street. Most were not moving, but a few feebly tried to crawl toward me. I was both sickened and awed by the sight. I don't know what had come over me, but I knew we couldn't let Mr Buck die. Even if I didn't know it was him when we first saw him, he's still a person. We couldn't let him die.

"You stupid, brave bastards." Mr. Buck shook his head and wiped blood off his face. He nodded to Mark and me. "Thanks, boys." His chest moved in and out as he breathed heavily. "Appreciate the help." The gray in his dark beard looked even more pronounced than I'd remembered from the last time I'd seen him at the lumber yard a few months ago.

"You're welcome." Mark wet his lips. "You, ah, you're not bit, are you?"

Buck shook his head. "Nah. That's thanks to you two. But with the noise we made, we better git moving." He looked at the bat in his hands, then nodded at us both. "Thanks again fer bailin' me out. I'm headed out of town - will see how long I can last in the woods without so many of the damn things around."

"We got a place. It's Bob's an' Shelly's old farm." I grimaced. "Well, it was."

Buck hesitated and looked over my shoulder at Erin and Lisa still in their car at the end of the block. "Y'all got the room fer another?"

"We'll make room." Mark pushed the button on the walkie-talkie. "We're bringing another along. We'll keep heading to the hardware store now."

"Affirmative." The short, efficient reply by Lisa made the men chuckle.

"Okay, let's get loaded up."

We entered the now-bloodied and dented van, though I think it escaped mostly unscathed thanks to the mounted plates. Those, though. They will definitely have to be replaced.

Compared to our encounter with Mr. Buck, the rest of our trip was laughably easy. I think Buck had somehow managed to gather up most of the zombies in the area. When we'd found him, he'd been screaming and yelling while he fought. He had to have known that'd attract them, and now that we've had a chance to talk, I think I get why he did it.

Anyway, we ended up with a huge haul from the hardware store. We loaded tools, bags of cement and lime, bags of sand and gravel, gardening equipment, propane, charcoal, matches and lighters, and just … so much more. It made me thankful for Erin and Lisa's trailer. Greene's Grocery was similar. It looked as if there'd been some looting of the place, but most of the canned food and dry goods were still there. We left a few cans and bags of beans for anybody surviving who might come looking for food, and I left a note with directions to the farm taped to a big can of chili. 'If you're not bit, and if you will contribute, come join us.' Mark read the message and nodded his approval before I taped it on. Maybe we'll get more survivors this way.

Our last stop was the bookstore. There, we cleared out four more zombies locked in what used to be the storeroom - looks like people tried to hide there, but at least one had to have been sick with the fever or maybe even bitten. They probably turned while everybody else slept, and that was that. All we could do for them was end the hell they were in.

We found that Foxfire series Garrett had wanted, and as I loaded it into Erin's trailer, she laughed. "Yep. You've definitely found Garrett. That boy has wanted those books forever. And, they might actually help us." Apparently, they're a series dedicated to the "old ways" of Appalachia - with advice, drawings, and directions on how to do things the settlers of these lands had to learn the hard way. Things like tanning hides, building cabins, siting and digging an outhouse, making soap, candle-making, and more. In addition to the Foxfire books, we picked up maps of the surrounding areas, and each of us took a few we wanted for entertainment and a few more for skills we might need to learn. I want to go back there another time for more. I feel like it's important to save as much knowledge as we can. Speaking of which, a trip to the school probably wouldn't be a bad idea.

After that, we headed back.

We drove down the dirt and gravel road. Garrett must have heard the engines and waited outside our new gate, his hatchet in hand. Even before we stopped, he streamed tears at the sight of his mom and sister. I think we all got a little misty when the family ran to each other.

Erin held him tight against her. Even though Garrett was just as tall, he was still her little boy, and they clung ferociously to one another.

"I'm sorry." He cried against her neck. "I couldn't help him. I couldn't."

Mark had already relayed Garrett's plight to Erin while they scoured the bookstore together. That Garrett had to kill his best friends and that he couldn't do the same for his dad.

"Shhh. It's okay, hon." Erin cried along with him but smiled, pushing his hair away from his face. "You're alive, and you did your best. That's all we can ask, isn't it, Lisa?"

Lisa had her arms around them both, and she wordlessly nodded.

Mark cleared his throat. His voice sounded a bit rough when he spoke. "So, let's get this stuff unloaded. And, Garrett, say hi to Mr. Buck."

"Mister Buck!" Despite his tears, the boy laughed from his spot in his mother's arms. "I'll give you a hug in a minute."

"No rush, son. Thanks to Mark and Wayne, we've got time fer that." The man smiled and moved to the back of the trailer to begin unloading our supplies.

Mister Buck had been the Agricultural and Forestry teacher for the high school. He'd been there for over a decade and had taught Mark, me, and Garrett too. He's a big man. Maybe in his early fifties, but still hale, hardy, and strong as a bull. It has to be said that he's also an expert in farming, which I'm more and more sure will come in handy. I knew he was married … but I noticed his ring is now on a piece of string he has tied around his neck. I didn't even know his wife's name until he told us later.

Garrett and Erin worked on a dinner of stew in the kitchen while Mark, Mister Buck, and I continued unloading with a watchful Lisa keeping an eye on the dirt road and the surrounding forest. We finished up without incident, and then tomorrow comes the task of organizing and figuring out what we still need.

While dinner bubbled away and bread was baking in the oven, we talked about how we would deal with beds and where everybody was sleeping.

"I can sleep in my tent out in the yard," Garrett offered. "The fence will keep me safe, and I'll hear if anything tries to get in."

From Erin's expression, I knew she didn't like that idea.

"You'll take the couch, Garrett." Mark patted his knee. "Wayne and me, we can bunk up in the battery room. Mister Buck can take the room we were using, and Erin, you, and Lisa can have the other bedroom."

Buck shook his head. "Naw. I ain't taking yer bed, boys. I'll take the battery room. Just git me a cot, and I'll be fine."

Mark began to object, but Buck continued.

"Young fellas like you, lord knows what you've been up to in those sheets." Then he pretended to shiver.

Garrett laughed, and Mark flushed bright red. The girls at least had the decency only to smirk.

While Mark floundered, I stood up. "If you're sure, Mister Buck, let's get you set up out there. We can at least make it comfortable for you."

"I'm sure. Y'all have done plenty for me already."

We got the cot situated, and Buck ended up with a nice little room. Yeah, there are eight big batteries against one wall, but there's room for a little desk and a chair, and we can rig up a lamp or something too. He seemed satisfied with it. As we turned to head back inside, I put my hand on his arm.

"Hey." I cleared my throat. "So, do you have, ah, anybody else you'd like us to go get?"

He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Naw. It's just me now." He hesitated, then smiled - the expression proud and grim. "That woman gave 'em hell before they got 'er." He nodded. "That was my Louise." He blinked and cleared his throat. "I'm hungry - let's get some of that stew."

We followed him inside.

Dinner was fantastic. Those roots Garrett had foraged back when we'd found him ended up being from a cattail, and I guess they're a good, starchy tuber. After being cooked, they tasted something like a potato blended with radish, and they thickened up the beef and vegetable stew. The bread along with it made me feel a little spoiled, and I resolved to check our flour stores so we can plan how often we make it.

Mark and I just finished up with the dishes, and people are occupied with little tasks. Mark is walking the perimeter of our home, on the lookout for any zombies wandering close. Garrett is reading one of the Foxfire books and taking notes, Buck is out looking over the garden and taking stock of what is growing vs what seeds we picked up in the garden aisle. Erin is organizing an unsorted pile of stuff on the back porch, and Lisa is sharpening all of our bladed weapons.

Maybe we can make a difference here. I mean, really make a difference. With all these hands working together, it feels a little like a community. Yeah, it's a small one, but it's working.

I'm hopeful. For the first time in a while, I'm hopeful.