It was about supper time. A day later. Both women were sitting together, waiting on a pot of stew to finish. Pam had given in, and took a mild pain killer. Leaving her sleepy and mellow. Staring at the lid on their dinner as it rattled gently, creating a satisfying low clatter.
"You know." Roxy began. Sipping a cup of hot tea. Pam turned so her chin was resting on her arms. Eyebrows raising. A sign to continue. But she wouldn't really speak up.
"We should raid a police station. They have body armor. So..."
Pam nodded in agreement. Laying her chin in her arm. She grumbled. "Sounds good. Can't do it yet though." Her breathing was ragged and rough. She couldn't wait for her ribs to heal. But it would take time. Six to eight weeks. Roxy was better off.
She was covered in bites and scratches. In comparison, Pam had been mangled. She gave a slow nod in response to Roxy's hesitant words. Pam never had a great opinion of law enforcement. However, that wasn't cause to turn her nose up at something so useful. Pam sighed. Then regretted it, clutching her chest.
She wanted to scream. Or at least curse. Anything to temporarily alleviate the sharp sting. Her fist connected with the table. Scraps' claws could be heard clicking against the hardwood floor in the next room. Roxy just stared.
"Pam... I don't want to push but... You haven't been doing so well." She stood, placing a small hand on Pams shoulders. Attempting to ease her back into her chair.
Pam complied with mild grumbling. Slowly setting herself against the shaped wood. It was funny. She could only just remember sitting on these chairs as a small girl. Waiting for her grandmother to pull cookies out of the oven.
Or the days as a young teen. Just emerging into the adult world, and taking refuge from the household horrors with the kindly woman. Sitting with a cup of tea in her hands, and listening to her grandfather's rough voice indulge her with stories of the war, and the old farm.
She missed those days. Dearly. Pam pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. "Gunna' lie down for a bit. Get me when the stew's ready." Staggering to the living room, Pam lifted one of the two cats slowly. Laying it on her lap as she moved to lay down. Closing her eyes.
Her sleep was far from peaceful. Or long for that matter. It was dreamless and interrupted by a loud series of garbled bellowing. She sprung to life, nearly jarring the older kitten from her stomach. Where it had apparently moved to sleep.
Roxy was already wrangling a gun from beside the door while Pam hobbled her way to the woman. Taking a weapon of her own and staggering out the door. Both women charged for the cowshed. Things were looking grim already. The adults were looking warily at the barn door. Sniffing it and fleeing.
Opening the door, there was plenty of broken glass from a back window. Both women feared the worst. Raising her weapon, Pam led the charge, setting the pace so as not to be left vulnerable. The choked mooing stopped. It was already evident to both women what had transpired. Pushing the door to the calfs stable open, their fears were confirmed.
"Shit..." It looked like a meat grinder had attacked the young bull. Parts of it's neck were sliced open with messy gashes. Small ribbons of skin splattered against the walls. It's eyes stared at the ceiling without actually seeing.
There were chunks missing from it's shoulder and side. Where their mysterious hunter had been feeding. Pam wretched. Causing a ring of pain to bloom from her ribs. "Well... Fuck." Roxy came in beside her. Eyeing the sight with disgust.
"Check the area. There's no way it left already. Watch your ass." Pam glared towards the rafters. Surprisingly, nothing was up there... Yet. As they made their way through the shed, searching behind haystacks and stables, finding nothing. Something creaked overhead.
Pam began growing suspicious. Slowly she glanced back towards the rafters, watching as the hooded infected slunk carefully by. Not taking notice of her. She nudged Roxy motioning for quiet while they watched the wary being pause. It stared towards the corpse of the calf.
A rumbling could be heard, but it was unclear if the source was the infected's stomach or throat. Pam finally sighed. Raising her firearm. "HEY!" In a flurry of tangling and untangling limbs, the hunter fell partway off the rafters. Digging it's claws in and scrambling to re-orient it's self. It glared back to them.
Giving one shriek, the infected fled out the window it'd initially smashed. Both women paused. "Pam, If you're looking for a test subject... There's your man."
"Won't argue it. But you try catching that mother fucker." Pams eyes turned to the calf. She wasn't much of a fan of veal. Not to mention an infected had been feeding off it. "Actually, I think we got bait right here... Come on, let's... let's deal with this."
It took a while to divide the animal up. Pam decided to move the kill away from the farm. In order to keep any carnivorous wildlife well away from the farm. They had enough trouble with infected. She refused to deal with bears on top of that.
They drove a large portion of the corpse a ways off. Dumping it on a path they never used much. Once returning home, they were greeted by the loud screeching of a smoke alarm, and Scraps howling.
Fortunately, there was no actual fire, and the infected more or less were wiped out by the tank battle. Asside from one or two transients that were already too far scattered to be concerned about.
Dinner that night was a charred mix that once resembled stew. Accusing glares were shot their ways via the dog and cats. Pam sighed. "We still need to name those damn cats." She heaved a sigh. Sipping her tea.
"Well... I did have a weird ass dream we could name them after." Roxy went into great detail about a sort of store much like Walmart. Called Tops and Tippy. The names fit the kittens perfectly.
Pam sighed, tucking into the charred remains of a once delicious looking meal. Nothing could be wasted at this point. Enough people had taken food and water on their ways out. It wouldn't be long until such things would be hard to find... Or worse. Impossible to find.
The dwindling remains of the day were spent sitting in the living room. Waiting for Roxy to arrived from the back room. When she did, Pams eyes widened. Something familiar sat in her hands. Her old base, and a cherry red electric guitar.
The woman passed the sturdy object to Pam, who instantly started tuning. They probably spent two or three minutes just remembering how to play. But once the girls returned to the swing of things, and a song was decided on, they softly strummed away on their instruments.
Sadly, without an amp it was just a mute twanging with no real sound. But what little joy you could find in an apocalypse was said to be precious.
The morning was greeted with wafting coffee and the soft sounds of birds. Pam stumbled from her bed. Staring out her window at the fenced off fields. Thankfully the wall kept out deer. A small portion of it got damaged during the tank battle, but that was negligible.
Stepping down the stairs slowly, Pam paused. Roxy seamed distant. Staring at one of her many bites and scratches. It was no secret they were a concern. But the incubation period was long over. That thought comforted Pam a little.
She made her way slowly down the stairs, pouring the morning coffees and sitting by the windows. "Pam... Let's do a mop up." Pam paused. Blinking in confusion towards Roxy as she handed the taller woman a plate of eggs and toast.
"Mop up?"
"Yeah. That fire alarm got me thinking... What if we can't avoid making noise? There aren't many infected left so... Even in our states, it'll be easy." She sat with Pam, already finished her meal. Pam took small bites at first, before wolfing it down.
"S'pose it makes sense. But we shouldn't waste the ammo." She sighed. It was actually a really good idea. No zombies? No worries.
"We'll figure something out."
The next day was spent planning their 'mop up'. Part of that included a cautious scouting around town. Slowly rolling through high traffic areas in the truck. Surprisingly, the majority of infected were scattered around the bait traps set in place for wild life.
Roxy hummed. She pointed towards a large, bloated thing shoving several infected away. It began stuffing it's self at one of the bait traps. Both women sighed. "Boomer." Roxy affirmed. Pam responded with a positive grunt.
"Isn't that Jerome?" She eyed the remains of a once cheery red beard hanging off the infecteds chin. Now stained with bile. Both women exchanged a glance. Jerome was a kind man, but had some... Rumors around him.
Not great ones. He was said to have a few guns and other supplies stashed away in case of just such an emergencies however. "Could check out his place." Pam rested her head on the seat. Staring at the feasting zombies.
"Back at the cult? Where we confirmed a tank. A tank we aren't even sure is still there." Roxy's fingers drummed on the steering wheel. Glancing at Pam with a grimace.
"Yeah. Bad idea." The taller woman sighed. Watching as Jerome bashed away two or three other infected. She hoped the other rumors weren't true. But watching him now, she suspected they were.
"We could take him... For what ever you were planning." Roxy blinked in her direction. The white crested woman leaned on the dashboard, contemplating. A boomer would be easy to subdue. But there were risks. That bile being the biggest. If a hoard were to drop on the two injured women, they'd be easy pickings. After the disaster at the veterinary clinic, Pam didn't want to face more hazards in her current condition.
"No. No that wouldn't be a great idea. I think we should stick with that cowardly hunter. Easy to catch. Hangs around any ways." She leaned back with a hum. "Besides. If that thing gets damaged, it'll blow. And well... We can't handle that right now."
They slowly crept to the next baited area. Minds turning like exposed worms, as a plan began to formulate around this discovery. Discussing back and forth. But the subject of Pam's planned research returned once more. "What are you planning anyways? We know they eat now. For sure. No question."
With a rattling huff, Pam leaned her feet on the dash. Shutting her eyes. "Honestly, my big questions have been answered. At this point... Well I more want to contain that thing so it'll stop killing our livestock."
"Live stock...Pam, you just gave me an idea." The vehicle swerved back towards the farm. But made a stop at an old house. Once belonging to someone every one affectionately called 'ranger dick'.
Roxy vanished a moment, once things were confirmed to be clear. Then returned with two large traps. Meant for mountain lions. She seamed to struggle under the weight of them. But refused to take any help Pam offered. "You're leg's too fucked up for that."
She tried to protest. But failed to find any decent argument. Pam sighed. Returning to the truck. Roxy set the large animal trap in a very well hidden spot just outside the farm. A place she often spotted large predators napping. back in the day.
As for the mop up, Roxy and Pam spent hours out of the ranch. Digging. Their wounds wrapped in plastic wraps so as not to infect them. Once there was a shallow pit the unwary would fall into, large shards of metal, glass, and sharpened wood were stuck on end. Covering it with a sturdy tarp.
Both the cougar trap and pit trap were baited. As a finishing touch, the women carried a radio. Loading an old tape and blasting it. They sat in wait, having clambered in the truck soon after. Several infected charged the noise.
A hand full died easy to the spike trap. The ones that didn't, crawled from their place flailing. These were polished off via backing the truck over them. That was until the Boomer showed up. He popped upon the spikes.
However, bile splattered as far as the truck, and other infected. And... Roxy. Who'd chosen to leave her window open just a crack. It wasn't long until half dead individuals began banging on the cabin of the truck. There weren't many. But enough to cause concern.
"DRIVE DRIVE!" Pam urged. As the windshield began to creak under the infected battering it's surface.
Roxy shot her a glare. "I CAN'T SEE SHIT!"
"JUST DO IT!" She begged.
The vehicle sped forward, and into the spike trap. The truck's airbags burst, knocking Pam unconscious. All was black.
Something rattled on her chest. Causing painful vibrations in her ribs. Pams eyes fluttered open. A pair of ice blue ones stared back at hers, and meowed loudly. "Hello."
"Oh thank god. I think my nose broke. And you were out cold, and the infected are mostly dead now. And" Roxy sat next to Pam with a cup of hot milk.
"Okay okay. Tell me slowly."