I would like to shut the CB off, but Bert said we should leave it on in case someone else happens to make contact. That’s easy for him to say, the radio isn’t in his apartment and he doesn’t have to listen to the asshole’s incessant taunts. I did turn the volume down though, and I’m writing in my room with the door closed so that all I can hear is a muffled droning. If it happens to change in pitch I’ll get up and check it, but odds are nobody is going to try to break in to have a conversation with us tonight.
Yesterday afternoon we got everything set up in the lobby we would need to replace the glass doors with the steel ones. The three of us went over the plan and what our parts were multiple times so that when the time came we could execute it quickly and without any mistakes. Once we were certain we had it down pat, it was just a matter of waiting for nightfall.
A little before midnight, I slipped out the back of the building with a bicycle taken from one of the apartments; mine was still lying outside a car dealership a few blocks away. For me, this was the scariest part of the plan. We needed to make sure the assholes weren’t nearby watching. The night was clear, and though the moon was only half visible, with no lights in the city it was enough to see by. I rode quickly around our building to the one the assholes were using to spy on us. I didn’t see their car, so I continued around to all the neighboring buildings to make sure they hadn’t moved. There were only a few zombies up and moving around and I wondered briefly if they had been third-shift workers before the pandemic. Then I returned to the front of our building where Beth and Bert were waiting on me.
The zombies around our building were all sleeping, a few were even snoring which struck me as funny; the virus could stop aging and repair bullet wounds, but apparently a deviated septum still required surgery. Bert and Beth were staring at me as I pushed through the glass doors chuckling to myself. After assuring them I hadn’t lost my marbles and that the coast was clear, we got to work.
Beth’s job was to stand out front and keep watch for the assholes and curious zombies. She was wearing dark clothes and was armed with a pistol and my R/C truck with the monkey duct-taped to it. Bert and I quickly began removing the glass doors from the steel frame they were mounted in. We then removed the hinges from the glass doors and attached them to the steel doors which we had already had drilled and prepped to receive the new hinges. The steel doors were smaller than the doors they were replacing, so Bert had taken a third door, cut it down and welded extensions onto the doors we were using to make them bigger. Once the new doors were in place, Bert welded brackets onto the doorframe, two about a foot from the top, two in the middle, and two a foot from the bottom of the door. The whole process took us almost an hour.
After pulling Beth back inside, we slid steel beams made from another door into the brackets to barricade the doors. Now if anyone wanted to get in through the front of the building they would have to remove the cars and break through the windows, or find one hell of a battering ram. We have already boarded up the windows in the first floor apartments, so we all felt pretty safe now. This didn’t mean it was impossible for anyone to get in, but we felt relatively certain we could repel most attacks, or at least anything the assholes might attempt.
We got up this morning feeling pretty good about ourselves. And though Beth headed into her lab after breakfast, Bert and I thought we had earned a day off. We placed bets as to when we thought the assholes would notice our new entryway and then set about our day of relaxation. It was early evening, and much later than both of us had predicted, when Asshole #1’s voice erupted from the CB.
“Do you morons think a couple of new doors will keep us out if want to get in? Hell, we’ll use your own big-ass forklift to plow right through them.”
I considered this for a moment; I had the keys, so they would have to know how to hotwire it to get it going. Additionally, if we heard them start it up, or actually using it or anything else to attempt to break through the doors, we could just shoot down at them from any of the upper windows. After a moment I glanced at Bert who just shook his head, probably coming to the same conclusion I had.
I keyed the mike and replied, “Go ahead and try. If you morons think that those doors are our only security measure, then I have to wonder how you managed to survive this long.” It wasn’t entirely true, but we did have plans.
I imagined the shocked look on their faces before Asshole #1 responded. “Fuck you, kid. That’s it. Playtime is over. Our only mission now is to kill you. Everyone else is getting a pass until I’m standing over your dead body and pissing in your stupid fucking face. A little electricity and a crappy birdhouse doesn’t make you king shit of Seattle. We’re going to kill you, the old man, and the doctor bitch, and then we’re going to move into your fucking home. Then we’ll mount your heads over the doors you just installed to warn everyone else what happens if they try to fuck with us.”
Bert just gave me a shrug when I looked over at him with a cringe. Then he whispered as if the assholes might hear him, “We’ll get started on the booby traps first thing in the morning. I’m more interested in the fact that they are watching other survivors too.”
Nodding, I told him, “I caught that too. We need to figure out how to find them.” Then I spoke into the mike, “Umm, okay. Good luck with that. It’s dinnertime over here so I’m going to hang up now and start cooking. Bye asshole.”
Bert chuckled as Asshole #1 flew into a rage and began launching expletive-laced threats at us. He’s taken a couple breaks, probably to quench a dry throat, but he’s still at it. The guy has probably been a bully his whole life, and he’s probably been able to back it up most of the time. I’m nervous, but it’s a different world now and every day I survive makes me a little more confident. Having Bert here certainly helps. We have the advantage here and I think we can take this guy if he tries anything. Maybe we can sneak out and install a car alarm in the forklift.
Posted on December 2, 2014, in Fiction and tagged Fiction, Horror, Post Apocalypse, Post Apocalyptic Fiction, Science Fiction, Survival Fiction, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Fiction, Zombies. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.