Haven: Life Goes On

Jeffery A Ping

  Copyright Jeffery A. Ping 2011

  Haven: Life Goes On

  Chapter 1

  Six months after my friends, neighbors and I established and secured a community we called Haven, I decided to take an extended road trip. The purpose of the trip was to explore the surrounding area and check Zombie movement patterns. In addition, I was to locate good foraging targets. During the last three weeks, I had been checking the towns and farms in the area north of Haven. Originally, I had driven North about 200 miles then started working my way south, back toward home while searching a grid scheme I had laid out on my map. A week ago, while driving down this secondary road I had been fortunate enough to stumble upon an 8x10 foot steel storage container. I could use this container as a home base while searching the surrounding area. The container was of the type called land/sea containers and was located near a small pond. I had access to water and I was able to sleep secure behind the safety of a locked steel door. I thought to myself that I would miss this container, when I was forced to sleep sitting up in my truck seats again.

  My eyes snapped open. I was awakened from sleep by something. Was it real or my imagination? Straining to hear anything that might have awakened me, I slowly relaxed. Most mornings these days this was how I awoke. I lit a candle, grabbed some trail mix, and a water bottle from my kit. After swallowing the trail mix, I took a long swallow of water, and then returned the bottle to my pack.

  I pulled on and laced up my boots. Next, I put on my Leather jacket. I pulled on my forearm guards, and shin guards. I shrugged into my shotgun shell bandoleer. I wrapped my scarf around my neck and pulled it up to cover my mouth and nose. Last, were my leather gloves and my leather skull cap. I unbarred the door, holstered my 9mm, picked up my shotgun, and kicked the door open. Seeing nothing outside, I slipped on my sunglasses and stepped quickly outside checking the left then right side of the container. Walking over to my truck I pulled down my scarf. I thumbed the locks open and opened the passenger door. Propping the shotgun against the seat, I opened the glove box. I pulled out a box of 9mm rounds. I reloaded six of my 9mm clips. I then walked back to the container. I entered and picked up my sleeping bag and pack. As I left, I pushed the door shut and latched it. Walking over to my truck, I tossed the pack and sleeping bag into the back seat.

  I pulled the truck out onto the road and had driven about three miles down the road when I saw a farm house. I slowed down about a half mile from the house. I stopped, picked up my binoculars and climbed out of the cab. I did a scan of the farm through the glasses. I spotted some cattle in an adjacent pasture and a couple of horses in a fenced area by the farm house. There was no one, living or Zombie in sight. I tossed the binoculars onto the passenger seat and got back in the cab of the truck. I drove slowly toward the house. I pulled the truck to the side of the road about 100 meters from the farm house. Checking the 9mm strapped to my thigh, I thumbed the safety off, and I picked up a second 9mm pistol from the passenger seat, and shoved it into my waistband. I wrapped my Scarf around my face.

  I picked up my shotgun, an empty tote bag then walked to the farm house. I tried the front door but it was locked. I closed the screen door and walked around the house to the side facing the barn. There was a side door. I pulled open the screen and turned the knob. I eased the door open. Jackets hung on hooks on the wall. There were several pairs of boots on the floor against the wall. I moved straight thru the Mud room and opened the door into the kitchen, still no one. Doing a quick scan of the kitchen, I noted the sink was full of empty canned fruit and vegetable cans. I opened the cupboards and noticed there were only a few canned goods. There was an open can of pears on the counter. The pears appeared to be freshly opened. I dipped my finger in the can, stuck my tongue to it, they were fresh. Now I was sure there might be someone in the house.

  I started up the stairs, "This is the State Police! Come out and show yourself" I shouted. I turned right and faced down the hallway. I noticed a trap door in the ceiling. A pull cord was attached to it. I walked past the trap door, grasped the cord and yanked. The door swung open and a ladder clacked as it extended down to the hall floor. Still nothing, I climbed the stairs, shining my flash light around the attic. I came across a person cowering in the corner. From the long blond matted hair, my guess was female. I called to it, "You, in the corner, stand and show yourself". Still no sound. I snarled, "Speak or I’ll shoot, I’m counting to five, one, two, three, four". "No please don’t, please don’t hurt us" a small voice came from the corner. A young girl stepped forward from the shadows; she was holding the hand of a boy about ten years old. "Who else is here?" I asked. "Just grandpa, he told us to come up here and wait. He said to stay up here and don’t go downstairs until he returned. But that was three days ago. He never did come back in the house. I can’t believe he left us here. Today we were so hungry that we went downstairs for something to eat. We heard someone try to open the front door so we ran back up to the attic and hid." the girl said. "Pull the stairs up and stay here. I’ll call for you to come down after I look for him" I told her.

  I made my way downstairs again. I moved back to the kitchen, and then into the mud room, I opened the door. The Zombie blocking my progress was about 15 feet in front of me. I swung the shotgun up and fired. The buckshot caught him in the upper part of his torso. He flew back into the yard. I walked over and pulling the 9mm from my waistband, I put a round into his forehead. He appeared to have been in his late 20's maybe 30, probably not Grandpa. Next, I went into the barn. There was a Zombie there that was missing an arm and most of one leg. He was dressed in overalls and appeared to be in his sixties or seventies. This was probably Grandpa. He opened his mouth to howl, and I fired a 9mm round into his face before he could start his howling. The howling would draw even more of the things; they might not be able to locate where the gun shots came from.

  I walked back to my truck and drove it back to the house. I grabbed the binoculars and did a quick scan of the horizon. Good, I didn’t see anyone or anything. Grabbing my pack, I went back inside and called to the kids, "Come on down to the kitchen and we’ll eat something". I heard the stairs bang and in a couple of minutes the two kids slowly stepped into the kitchen. I passed them bottles of water and the bag of trail mix. They drank deeply from the water and then tore into the trail mix. I told the boy, "wait here." I motioned for the girl to come outside. "Why?" she asked. "I need to ask you about something I found, come on" When we entered the mud room, I turned to her and said, "There are two dead people out there, will you be OK?" she nodded but gasped when she saw the body of the first Zombie. Do you know him?" I asked. "I don’t think so" was all she said. Walking to the barn I called to her, "OK, come over here" I showed her the second Zombie. She started sobbing. "That’s grandpa, what happened to him?" she asked.

  "My guess would be that he came to the barn and that guy in the yard attacked him. That’s why he didn’t come back, not because he left you" I told her. "Go inside and wait, I’ll take care of them before your brother sees them" I said. Without uttering another sound she turned and walked back to the house.

  I grabbed the first Zombies feet and dragged him around to the side of the barn. I grabbed the kid’s Grandfather under his arms and dragged him over beside the first Zombie. Taking a tarp from the barn I covered them both. Then I returned to the kitchen. Back inside with the kids I said, "My name’s Ralph Mason, what’s yours?" The girl replied, "I’m Jenny Collier, this is my brother Bobby. We were here visiting Grandpa Collier when the virus thing started. Our mom and dad called and said they would come up from the city and get us, but they never came. We wanted to go back home but grandpa said that we would be safer here. What about you? Where are you from Officer Mason?" "Well, fi
rst I’m not really a Police Officer, I just said that hoping you would listen to me and not just get scared and blow my head off thinking I was a Zombie. You guys can call me Ralph. I was living in San Jose when the violence was first reported. The first night they confirmed it was the virus, two of my friends and I left town and headed north to my house in Chico." I explained. "Is the virus thing over?" asked Bobby. "No, I’m afraid it is still bad. What do you kids know about the virus?" I asked.

  "Well we watched the news at first. When the TV stopped working, we listened to grandpa’s shortwave radio. Grandpa told us to stay inside and not to let anyone get close to us." said Bobby, returning to the bag of trail mix he was eating. There was a long pause in our conversation with the only sound being Bobby crunching the trail mix. "Is it ok if I take a shower, my hair is filthy?" asked Jenny. "Do you have working water here?" I asked. "Sure, Bobby go and start the generator." said Jenny. Bobby jumped up, but I put up a hand saying, "Wait, and let me go with you Bobby." Jenny was right about her hair being filthy but, I suspected Jenny also needed some alone time to grieve for her grandfather. Maybe the warm shower would do as much for her emotional state as for her hair. Bobby and I went out to the barn and Bobby filled the generator gas tank and started up the generator. It was a small portable unit but could operate the lights and well pump without a problem. I heard a noise from outside the barn and jumped. Pulling the pistol from my waistband, "That was just the well pump. It will go off when the pressure tank is full." said Bobby. "Do you have anything else to eat?" he asked. "Sure, let’s go and look in my truck." I said.

  We walked over to the truck and I opened the door. "What a mess! My dad says you need to keep your car in good shape if you want a decent trade-in." said Bobby. "Well, I guess I do need to straighten it a little." I told him. "Can you drive?" I asked as I tossed him the keys. "Pull it over to the barn and I’ll clean it up". "Alright!" said Bobby smiling broadly. After he pulled the truck up in front of the barn door, I handed him a can of stew. "Go eat this if you’re still hungry." I said. "Try to save some for your sister, ok?" I added. "Sure, we always share" he said as he took off for the kitchen. I cleaned the loose trash out of the truck rolled up my sleeping bag and moved the pack and sleeping bag to the bed of the truck. Then I noticed the old car trailer in the barn. The tires were ok and there was an electric winch mounted to the front of the trailer. I connected the trailer to the hitch of my truck. I walked back inside. Jenny was sitting at the table eating stew. "Bobby went to take a shower. You could use one too, you kind of smell bad." she said. "Sorry, if I knew it was going to bother you I would have left you in the attic." I said. Jenny continued to eat, but paused and said, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. My mom always says if you don’t tell people stuff like that, they won’t know." "Yeah, I guess you’re right, I could stand to cleanup some. Is it OK if I look around for some clean clothes?" I asked. "Sure look in the second bedroom upstairs, that’s where my mom and dad sleep. Dad always keeps clothes here." Jenny said. "Keep the doors locked and both you and Bobby stay inside" I told her. "Yes Sir" snapped Jenny, but she smiled and continued to eat her stew. About 30 minutes later we were all bathed and sitting at the table. "Tell us what’s going on." said Jenny. I began to tell them what I knew…..

  Well, about six months ago there were news reports about rioting in several North African cities. Within days, the TV news coverage was about the rioting sweeping the cities in Europe. There were rumors that it was a virus epidemic that was causing people to go crazy. News from Europe video showed blocks and blocks of rubble, the result of the use of the largest conventional bombs ever used. Statements released from the governments of these countries stated that the destruction was the consequence of an attempt to contain the virus. I suspected that containing the virus was just an excuse to use whatever measures they required to end the rioting. The news reports suddenly stopped covering the European riots after a few days and I like most Americans forgot about it. Then a couple weeks later, there were news reports of rioting in US cities on the East and West coast. Then there was the official CDC statement that a virus was causing people to become homicidal. Just a few days after that there wasn’t any TV or news.

  All of the major cities had fallen fast. The first occurrence of the virus in the U.S. cities was on the Eastern Seaboard and West Coast cities with inbound international flights. The TSA was totally unprepared for this attack. Terrorist screening procedures and metal detectors didn’t identify a blood borne disease. The police were our first line of defense and the courts had handcuffed them to guarantee criminals their civil rights. Officers were bitten while trying to read Miranda rights to Zombies. Whole precincts were swamped while trying to negotiate with hospitals full of Zombies.

  When the shelters for survivors were originally setup, the wounded were placed in the same areas as healthy people. When the people taking refuge in the shelters with wounds succumbed to the infection and started turning into Zombies, there was nowhere for the uninfected to run. Everywhere, people were killing and being killed. The killers were both living people and the rioters who as it turned out, were Zombies. In small towns, and in the countryside, it was primarily Zombies who were the predators. In the larger cities, it was Zombies and mobs of the living that were killing people. Crazed mobs of armed people were roaming the streets looting and shooting anything or anyone they happened to find. Attrition was the number one enemy of the living. These groups or gangs would usually encounter attacks from enough living individuals or Zombies to reduce their numbers. Sometimes they were just overwhelmed by a larger throng of Zombies. A Zombie bite always resulted in an infection. The severity and location of the bite determines the time between infection and turning into a Zombie. If a living person were bitten but escaped, or they were infected through contact with Zombie blood, they would turn into one of the fast moving Zombies within a few minutes or hours. If a living person was bitten severely enough to die, they would become one of the slower moving Zombies within minutes or hours. If you killed one of the fast moving Zombies, it would just get up after a few minutes and would now become a slow moving Zombie. The only way to kill a Zombie once and for all was to destroy its brain. The Zombie numbers just continued to increase. Within a couple of weeks the Zombies were in control of all the cities. With rare exceptions, the only survivors in a city were in heavily fortified buildings.

  Buildings of stone, cement block, or brick were the most successful shelters from Zombies. Old court houses, old police stations, even churches were easily fortified. This was due to building materials used and a minimum of ground level windows and doors. But even most of these safe havens were eventually overrun by the Zombies as well. The need to forage for all of their food, and water required the survivors venture out into the city. Foraging trips quite often resulted in someone getting bitten or scratched by a Zombie. The survivors in the cities were also facing unbelievable numbers of Zombies. Due to gun control laws, the city survivors were less well armed than the survivors in the rural areas. Not all people who were infected had been bitten or scratched by Zombies. Some were unknowingly infected through existing open wounds. These people who showed no evidence of infection also took shelter in the refuges. When they turned Zombie, the uninfected were trapped in their fortified shelters with them.

  If you happened to come across a survivor stronghold these days, you need to steer clear of it, or at least approach with maximum caution. The survivors that still exist do so because strongholds were no longer accepting newcomers. You could readily see if someone had a bite or a scratch. But if they became infected by bodily fluids, there might not be any visual evidence. Getting infected blood in their eyes, in their mouth, or in an existing scratch would also result in an infection. You could even get infected by having sex with an infected person who had not yet turned, or was showing any sign of infection.

  The Midwest faired much better than either coast in controlling the virus spread. The airports w
ere shutdown to all inbound and outbound traffic. The most successful states were states populated by Isolationist leaning citizens. These states; Montana, Idaho, Wyoming and North Dakota not only shutdown their airports, their militia also established road blocks at major highways entering their states. The states militias seized control of all military bases within their boarders. They announced they would no longer allow U.S. civilians or U.S. military to enter their sovereign territories. They enforced the lock down of their borders by not only closing and patrolling of their roads. Border fences were started, and patrols were authorized to shoot anyone, living or Zombie trying to enter. They also implemented the harshest measures to deal with the existing internal threats. Anyone exhibiting symptoms was terminated. All aircraft entering those states airspace was directed to turn back otherwise the state Air National Guard would shoot down the aircraft. In Idaho day after they announced their airspace was closed, a senator flying his state provided private plane refused to turn back after stating he was a US senator when hailed. He was shot down by an A-10 Thunderbolt firing an AIM-9 Sidewinder missile. No exceptions were made!

  These same states required anyone coming in physical contact with an infected person be arrested and placed into a gulag style prison for a minimum of 30 days before release. Often a person would turn into a Zombie while being held. This would result in other prisoners becoming infected before the Zombies were terminated. This in turn would cause the captors to terminate all prisoners as a safety measure. Many uninfected died as a result of these harsh measures. But the infection was all but eradicated inside these states. Individual rights and freedoms were suspended but no one complained loud enough to draw attention to themselves. The state boarders were still open to anyone wanting to leave. Few chose to leave. Anyone caught trying to smuggle people across the boarder into these states were summarily executed. Anyone caught aiding or abetting smuggled individuals was executed. Before the US military could take retaliatory action against these states, the governmental chain of command had crumbled. Any military units that could have retaliated were bent on self survival not enforcing the laws of a nonexistent government.

  Similar, but less dramatic methods were also applied by many other townships throughout the Midwest. Because of the self imposed isolation and the failure of phones and wireless communication, within the first week or so, there was very little if any communication with anyone outside the towns. No one seemed to know the situation in other parts of the country or other parts of the world. I’m sure they were experiencing the same or similar conditions or we would have also had Russian or Chinese U.N. sanctioned "Peace Keeping Troops" to deal with as well as Zombies.

  "What are we going to do now?" Jenny asked. "Well, I live at a safe place about 150 miles south of here. We call it Haven and there are about 70 people living there. I will take you and your brother there in a few days. But first I need to checkout the extent of infestation around here. I want to see how many Zombies are in this area and how far they have traveled to get here. And occasionally I find survivors like you two." I told them. Both of them said they wanted to go with me, but Jenny said they needed to leave word for their parents if they came looking for them. I told her to write a note and leave it on the table. "Bobby, did your grandfather have any guns?" I asked. Sure, come on I’ll show you." he said. What he showed me was a short 9mm carbine. It was not really a powerful rifle since it used the same bullets as my pistol, but it was probably sufficient for varmints and coyotes, and now Zombies. I gave it to Bobby to carry and I also picked up a Winchester lever action .30-30 which I handed that to him as well. There was also an old double barrel 12 gauge. I kept looking and I found five boxes of 9mm rounds, three boxes of .30-30 rounds, and three boxes of 12 gauge shotgun shells. I grabbed a pillow and stripped off the case and I filled it with the ammunition. "Let’s go downstairs" I said. Downstairs, I sat down and told Jenny and Bobby they each needed to pack up a suitcase of clothing, some blankets, and anything else they wanted to take with them when we left.

  I went outside and loaded the portable generator onto the front of the trailer and placed two metal Jerri cans of gasoline into the bed of the truck. I looked around the barn until I found a hacksaw and cut the double barrel shotgun barrels down to about 11 inches. I cut and formed the stock into a pistol grip. If I could rig a holster, I would be a regular Post Apocalyptic warrior just like in the movies.

  As I gathered up some of the tools to leave, I remembered the cattle I seen in the corral. I walked out front to the corral and swung the gate open. I walked to the pasture fence and kicked the rails out of a section. At least the livestock would be free to leave and would not starve or die of thirst. The kids were just coming outside when I pulled the truck and trailer out of the barn. "Maybe we should get Grandpa's ham radio" said Bobby. "Do you know how to use it?" I asked. "No" muttered Bobby. "Well, let’s put it in the truck bed, maybe someone in Haven will know how or figure it out." I told him. Everyone piled into the truck and I drove back to the container where I had spent the night. I dropped the trailer off there and then I drove back down the road past their farm.