Class of 2013 - 11

Chapter Eleven

A field trip indeed. Had we known the events transpiring in Menifee, we probably would have been a lot more worried than we were. We were assuming that it was going to be fine. Probably similar to when Chien and I had ventured out. There was one difference though – rural Perris and semi-rural Menifee were on opposite levels of the population spectrum. Rural Perris had a small number of people by comparison. Menifee had a decent amount of them, and that meant that they had a lot more creatures to deal with there. Of course, we didn’t know about any of that at the time, and thus we went on about our business. As the kids had gone about collecting potential parts for the steam engine, Chien and I had decided to look for the wires and other components that we might need to make an alternator, and had thankfully been capable of finding such things in the maintenance areas.

By the time that everything had been found a few hours had gone by, and then we had to start figuring our ways of putting everything together. Once we laid all the parts out, and collected a few of the power tools and such from the maintenance areas, it wasn’t all that hard to figure out how to cut, shape, place, and connect everything. It was more time consuming than difficult. The alternator was the complex part, but Chien was able to put that together by himself. The entire contraption was larger and more bulky than it should have ever needed to be, but we weren’t really concerned with the size of it. After all, it wasn’t like we planned on ever moving this thing unless we took it apart to junk it. Once it was put together, I took a look at the components and tried not to laugh. If this thing even worked, I would be surprised if it didn’t fall apart five minutes into its trial run. That would be enough to prove it could be done though.

A fifty five gallon drum, a desk, some spare pieces of PVC pipe, pieces of hose, a filing cabinet, a weight lifting bench and bar, and some other random bits of things that were found here and there around the school. God, this thing looked like shit, but we filled it with water anyway – and then grabbed buckets to catch water as we plugged up all the leaks as fast as we could. Once it was leaking only minimally, we filled it with water once more and then clamped the makeshift door we’d made shut tight. I had no doubt that this thing wouldn’t get too much pressure in its boiler just by looking at the materials, but I hoped it would be enough to at least get a charge from the drive wheels – even if it was only a minimal one. Once the water was in came the question of fuel, and I finally had to tell everyone the fuel source that I intended to use. They all looked about half sick until I explained the reasons why, and pointed out that it would be horrible to have to bury them beneath our crops. With that grisly image, they quickly agreed.

For a trial run, and considering the size of the engine and the materials it was comprised of, we wouldn’t be using the entire corpse at once, but I still had them bring one over. I knew this was going to be a sort of hazing experience for them all. That in mind, I was the first who took up the ax that we had found in a toolshed. Bringing it down, I decapitated the corpse… beheaded our tinder… and then handed the ax to Chien. He looked at me for a moment and sighed as I nodded toward him. He followed suit quickly and sliced off one of the lower branches before handing it off. The ax was passed around from one person to the next until each had taken a swing, and then the main trunk was loaded into the emptied filing cabinet. A piece of bark from a tree was lit and tossed inside, and the fire started quickly. Being that I was the one with the knowledge of steam engines, I ended up having to operate the engine manually, and Chien was the one checking the output.

For a few minutes there was nothing as the pressure built inside – and then I heard it, a creak and groan inside the makeshift boiler, and I opened the pressure valve to the pistons. Immediately the pistons engaged and began to move – albeit slowly at first as the pressure wasn’t very great within the boiler. The fire was hot, and our tinder burned long, but I motioned for another branch from our fuel source. It was thrown on and the fire roared up, causing me to step back for a moment, but not for long as I was quickly at the gauges once more. I hated the heat, detested it; I was a creature that loved good, cold weather. However, the heat from a steam engine didn’t quite have that same feeling. To see something that you’d designed and built and worked with functioning and under your personal control… it was an exhilarating experience. There was nothing like it.

With more heat, the engine began working faster, and looking over at Chien I saw a grin on his lips. He had an electrical tester with its ends touched to a battery connected to the alternator. From that grin alone I knew that he believed there was a good charge coming from our faithful machine, but to test it further we had an inverter connected to the battery, and plugged into that was a fan. A moment after he checked the battery, he reached over and pressed one of the buttons to turn on the fan – it started without pause. The fire burning fairly constant, and the gauges set to their proper positions now that the engine was running in its prime, I stepped back. A steam engine, my steam engine, and it worked wonderfully – I’d never thought that I’d see the day where I’d get to build and operate one of my favorite pieces of machinery… but here it was. Or… it was here until it had a catastrophic failure… which wasn’t far off.

Thankfully the failure wouldn’t result in any injuries, but it was spectacular no less. There was something that we hadn’t thought of when we constructed this heap of assembled junk, and it was a simple failing in the contraption. The PVC pipe that was used obviously leaked, we could see it, and we had no real sealant for it – but what we hadn’t thought about was the fact that, with the pistons moving and the machine rocking like it was… well… those loose pipes were getting looser and looser. The stand that we had the boiler on was just a desk, and with how the legs connected, it wasn’t the most stable, so it just moved all the more.

It was bound to happen, and few of us had seen it coming, but all of us jumped when the pipe connecting between the pistons and the boiler came loose from it. Steam blew out of the hole left behind and coated the area. Chien disconnected the battery and grabbed it, the fan, and inverter before getting out of the way, and everyone else rushed away. After my initial jump though, I couldn’t help but laugh as everyone scattered. As the steam billowed out, the PVC connections began to fail in other places and the makeshift pistons fell apart and dropped to the ground. The momentarily great machine crumbled under its own driving force, and what a splendid little show it was to see it fall apart. I’d known all along it would fail at some point, but the fact that it had done so in such a spectacular fashion, and nobody had gotten hurt, was all that much more amusing.

Once the steam began to come out of the boiler slower and the fire began to die down (as the steam was slowly killing it), we moved closer and knocked the boiler over – the fifty five gallon drum rolling to a stop a few feet away. Some water sloshed out, but most of what had been left remained inside as the last bits of steam that could escape did so. The rest simply condensed inside the drum as it began to cool. The fire flared back to life once the steam was no longer strangling it, but rather than try and put it out, we decided to let it burn itself down. Once it did, we gathered up the parts of the engine and put them all in the same spot, and then took the kids over to the yard where the busses were kept. They had all been in the yard at the time of the plague’s beginning, and that meant we had a lot of possible parts to strip off the large vehicles. Thankfully, all of these parts could be used to construct a new steam powered generator; this time a permanent version.

Pointing out what parts were needed off of the busses, we had some of the kids collect tools and others collect weapons. While they were taking the parts off of the bus, Chien and I were planning on making our trip to the Big 5. Thankfully it wasn’t more than a mile or two away in driving distance – maybe less than that even, but we didn’t want to chance walking there. While the school offered a decent amount of safety and could act as a stronghold with everything locked up, and was placed in an area where there was only a limited number of residences, the Big 5 was closer to the heart of Perris. That meant that travelling there would entail having to deal with a lot more zombies. Chien and I, admittedly, had only been around in the early stages of clearing P.M.A., and currently had the lowest kill counts of the group. We were the least tested at the moment, and – as far as we knew – were about to go to where the largest number of zombies were located. We hoped there would be only a few, but we also knew better. This would be a pain.

Once the kids were set, we began heading back to the armory – having started using it as such again, though now leaving it unlocked since we were the only ones here. Due to the sheer number of zombies that we were expecting, and the likely close range we’d be shooting from, we simply grabbed the twenty-two caliber weapons. These included our two scoped rifles, a couple of Ruger 10/22’s, both of the Ruger semi automatics, and both of the Ruger revolvers. Chien took the semi-automatics, and I took the single action revolvers. It balanced fairly well because while the revolvers were slower to reload than the automatics, my scoped rifle had eight more rounds than Chien’s – which meant we actually equaled out to having the same number of shots. On top of that, we also, once again, took along the bokken and the baseball bat. We would have taken Chien’s swords along instead, but neither of us had practiced with those blades yet.

Once we had our weapons and ammunition collected, we had to select a vehicle to take – and our favorite temptation returned once more. The Viper. We wanted to drive that damn car so bad, and yet, when we thought about the actual needs that we would have… it didn’t fit. It didn’t have enough space to haul everything that we planned on collecting, and if it got surrounded, it wasn’t likely to be able to push itself out of a horde. It had a hell of a lot of horsepower, but it didn’t have that kind of torque. That left two viable options: the El Camino, and the Suburban. The El Camino would have been easy to load, and considering the steel construction, it would have been sturdy… but it had that damned door jamming problem. Not only that, but the Suburban might have actually had more space considering that things could be stacked higher without worry of them spilling out the back.

That in mind we made our choice, and the Suburban it was – though we both made the obligatory disgruntled sounds while walking to it. As I got in and fired it up, Chien grabbed the gate clicker out of the El Camino and then hopped inside. The entire back portion behind the front driver/passenger seat was empty, and we hoped we’d get enough to fill it. We needed as many weapons as we could get our mitts on, and if we could get ammo, rations, and water on top of it? That would be a massive plus for us.

==X==X==X==

About the same time as Chien and I were getting ready to leave P.M.A., down in Menifee they had just discovered the horde outside. It was a rather large one, and they couldn’t quite figure out where it had come from. It hadn’t been there when they had first pulled in – though the zombies might have been out there and out of sight until the old muscle cars rumbled up outside of the house. Regardless, with the slam of the door, they all knew where their dinner was being served. A slow scowl formed on Sweet’s face as he looked over at James.

“Why did you slam the door?”

James blinked and then a look of realization formed on his face. “Oh, fuck!” He hung his head. “I’m sorry Boss.”

Sweet pinched the bridge of his nose, but Lea didn’t bother to wait. Instead she asked a simple question. “Do you have a way to get onto the roof?”

“I do…” She began to move, and he raised his voice slightly. “Don’t bother. You’ll only deplete your ammunition. There’s too many of them to handle with just what you have on your person, Lea.”

Lea stopped then and hung her head with a sigh. “So then what do we do? We left our ammunition in the cars.” She turned then and looked at him. “Hell, you left the AR-15 out there too, and James left the shotgun. I don’t even have my rifle. All we have are our pistols.”

“That’s not quite true. We have my guns and ammunition, and the melee weapons too.” He glanced to the window. “First thing’s first though, we need to get the interior fortified. I have some wood in the basement, as well as screws and a drill. We can secure the windows with that.” If there was any one thing that I had to commend our Commandant on, it was the fact that he would use the screws instead of damned nails. “Sophie, girls, I want you three to go around and make sure all the doors and windows are closed and locked. James, I want you to come with me to get the wood, drill, and screws from the garage. Lea, Alice, and Timothy, I want the three of you to go into the basement. I have a recurve bow and a quiver of arrows down there, as well as a spool and some fishing line. I want you to bring all of that up from the basement. I have a plan for getting out of here.”

Quick nods were given, and soon enough the directions were followed. The doors and windows had mostly been closed already, and what weren’t were soon locked. The bow and quiver, along with the spool and fishing line, were quickly brought up, and after the first load of wood, Sweet set in to putting two-by-fours over the windows and screwing them in place. He pulled no punches with it either, and actually stacked the boards level, one on top of the other, as he covered the window – thus ensuring that there were no hand holds to grab any boards, and no gaps for arms to reach through. He moved quickly, going from one window to the next – and any that were too wide to cover with two-by-fours were blocked by dressers and other large, heavy objects. Once this was all finished, Sweet moved to the roof with Lea and James close behind – his dear wife staying behind with their daughters and the two recent orphans.

When they were all settled on the roof, Sweet began to use the drill, with a thin bit, to bore small holes through the arrow shafts, near the fletching. As he did this, he had James and Lea cut ten lengths of fishing line – each one a hundred feet long; enough to reach from the middle of the roof and out to about the middle of the street. Once that was finished, one end of each length of line was tied through the holes in the arrow shafts, and the other was attached to the spool. The spool itself was then slipped down over a small stack on the roof.

“Alright you two…” Sweet began as he slid the modified arrows into the quiver, “I want you both to go get gloves. I don’t want you getting your hands cut up once we get going.” The two nodded and hurried down into the garage to look for a couple pairs of gloves. Meanwhile, Sweet himself stayed upon the roof and took up an arrow; notching it and taking careful aim. The first targets were the zombies directly below that were pressing up against the house. Thanks to the power of the bow, the arrow that was first let fly smashed down through the top of the targeted ghoul’s skull. The story was the same for the next nine zombies that found themselves as his targets.

James and Lea returned just after the tenth zombie was slain by Sweet’s expert archery. Quickly they worked on pulling the fishing lines and retrieving the arrows. As each one came in, they were either given to Sweet or, if he was aiming, slid into the quiver to be ready for him to use. From then on each time that an arrow found its mark, they would immediately begin reeling it back to be reused. The kills began to mount rapidly, going from ten and skyrocketing to twenty, thirty, forty, and ever higher after that. He’d become a killing machine. Yet, no matter how many of the living dead were slain by the arrows, there seemed to be ever more to replace them. Not only that, but after so many dozens of kills, Sweet was quickly tiring – as were James and Lea as they reeled in the last few arrows.

Soon they had all taken a seat on the roof overlooking the horde assembled below. With weary eyes they gazed upon the large number that had gathered. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sweet let out a sigh as he tried to think of a way out of this mess. Finally, he spoke.

“We have to get out of here tonight. We don’t have a choice.” He said, resting his arms on his knees as he looked over the side. “If we wait until morning there will be so many of those corpses that starting the cars might light them up.”

James and Lea were quiet for a moment, both of them thinking about ways out, but it was James that spoke first.

“Hey boss, there’s something I wanna try.”

“What?” Sweet asked.

“Well… they go up pretty easy right? I mean, at least once they’re dead. We’ve never lit one up that was alive, but if they burn like they do when they’re dead… ya think they might be adverse to heat? For instance, if we made a torch and held it up to one… do ya think it might shy away from it? If they do, we could use torches as a deterrent. Use their instincts against them.”

“I suppose it’s possible. But what would you propose doing even if that works? We might be able to get to the cars, but we’d never be able to load them. They hunt by sound, so their instinct to hunt might overpower their likely limited instincts to preserve themselves.”

“I have an idea, actually…” Lea said with a grin. “My car isn’t locked. If the torch idea works, and James and I both get one, we can get to my car… and since the cars attracted them in the first place, we could probably lead them away while you load things into your car – and then once your car is loaded, we could head back and shut my car off, and you could take yours out to do the same thing. Once my car is loaded, we can radio you, and you can rush back, pick up the wife and kids, and we can all get the hell outta here.”

“Assuming that the torch idea works… I think that’s an excellent plan, Lea.” Sweet nodded. “If we’re making torches, let’s head back down and get to working on it.”

From there they quickly moved back down inside the house and moved into the kitchen – grabbing a couple of brooms, a roll of string, a roll of yarn, a pair of scissors, a hacksaw, a mop bucket, and a large bottle of vodka. Cutting the broom handles down to about a foot in length, and then using the scissors to cut the broom’s brush down to nearly the binging, they then wove the yarn into the brush and wrapped it around the brush. As they did this, they used the string to keep the yarn tight in place. After a few wraps of both, the string was wrapped tight around the outside and then sewn through itself to keep it in place. Once they were formed, the vodka was poured into the mop bucket and the torches were placed in to absorb as much of the Russian booze as they could.

The sun had gone down by the time that the torches might have been ready, but by then the group that had arrived needed to rest – especially before they tried to pull this stunt they had planned. They didn’t awake until a couple hours before dawn the next day, and James, as always, was far from being an early riser. Truth told, Lea was the only one of us that could get up early on a regular basis without complaining about it or needing sleep half way through the day. She was a little bit of a freak that way. However, once she was up there was no getting her to sleep again, and she made sure that James got his ass out of bed – or, in this case, the nest that he’d made for himself in Sweet’s living room out of some extra blankets and pillows. There were times when we all seriously wondered if he was related to some sort of rat or bird or some such thing that nested… but we never really could figure it out.

Okay, so it was more like we couldn’t agree on what specific sort of animal he was a hybrid of.

Once up, and after Lea splashed some ice water on James’ face for good measure, it was time to test out their prototype vodka torches. Sweet grabbed up the bucket, a box of long matches, and a screwdriver. Striking a match, Lea held it under the torch that James took once the excess vodka dripped off. Slowly she moved it closer until the accelerant lit and the torch was soon ablaze – burning hot and long. The torch lit up about the same time that Sweet finished unscrewing the wood that had been added to barricade the front door. Checking through the peep hole and then looking to James, he gave a nod and slowly, quietly opened the door. James moved forward into the darkness of the night and held the torch up once he was standing outside.

The flickering light of the torch’s flame illuminated the area immediately before him – showcasing the blind horde of living dead, and the Oldsmobile Cutlass parked in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, the torch wielding test subject moved forward toward the horde – hoping that he was right about the shambling cannibals having some sort of aversion to flame. If not, he was lunch.