It was dusk, and getting darker by the minute. Neither wanted to drive through the night all the way back to Yuba. It had been a tiring day as it is. To decrease engine noise, the car slowed down immensely so as not to attract any unwanted attention. They drove through a rural neighborhood, and all along down the street were a bunch of zombies.
After parking right beside the open front door of the closest house, Cameron and Becky got out of the car. Using shovels they quickly and quietly dispatched the few zombies that had spotted them. Making sure that none of the others were aware of their presence, they broke out their pistols, screwed on silencers, and walked to the open front door.
Pistol in one hand, and flashlight on the other, they swept the house for any and all possible zombies. There was only one that was stuck in the bathroom wearing nothing but a nightgown covered in black blood. Trying to be as conservative as possible with the limited ammo they brought along, Cameron simply stomped his boot on the thing's chest to floor it. Then, with pulling out a knife, he stabbed into its skull and wiggled it around before pulling out.
Soon enough the rest of the house was pronounced clear. The two of them then proceeded to lock the front and back doors, and used every bit of furniture to barricade them. After that they went into the master bedroom, locking it behind them.
It was two weeks after Cameron's run in with the "Quisling", and in that time his hand healed. After being, bitten vodka found at the gas station was emptied over his wound, followed by antiseptic back in town (both times it stung like a bitch but he manned up). Afterwards his wound was dressed, and he was also monitored for every kind of infection. Because while the zombie might not have been real, the potential diseases she had been carrying were. But the thing that annoyed Cameron the most was the fact that his hand now had a nasty scar. At least now he was finally able to properly hold a gun again.
When word spread around town there was a discussion of what should be done if somebody else ran into one. The opinion was split down the middle. Some (like Cameron) thought those poor bastards had to be put down. Others (like Becky's sister Sarah) saw them as no different from those rescued from Monroe, and that they deserved treatment. The final decision was to try and capture them, but only when it was convenient.
Cameron's heart went out to those poor people, it really did, but that bite had fucking hurt!
In the meanwhile, Yuba found that it liked having cattle around. The cows weren't just used for milk, but they were also used to move shit around—primarily logs that were cut down after the hill was cleared of all trees (those logs were being used to build a whole new wall south of the river). So, to lessen the possibility of having those cattle slaughtered for food over the winter, the higher-ups decided to send scouts out looking for new places to salvage.
"Why the fuck were we assigned this area of all places?" Becky complained for the millionth time, kicking off her shoes and jumping into bed.
"Cause we picked it out of a goddamn hat," Cameron said grumpily. He was just as unhappy about being sent to Minnesota as she was. What made it worse (or possibly better) was that almost every store they ran across had zombie corpses in front of it and was cleaned out. At the least they were going to report the possibility of another group of survivors.
"Let's get some sleep so we can get an early start," said Becky, laying her head on the pillow.
"G'night, then," he said, giving her a goodnight kiss. Spooning up next her, the two of them drifted off to sleep.
The next morning Cameron was woken up from a banging noise coming from outside. Giving off nothing more than an annoyed grunt, he turned over in bed trying to get back to sleep. The banging didn't stop. He gave up. Opening a bleary eye, he sat up in bed to see some zombies outside the window desperately trying to get to them.
"Shit," he grumbled, with nothing more than a grimace. The things weren't an immediate threat, so he didn't worry.
"Well fuck," Becky sighed, looking out the window. "Wonder how they figured out we're here."
"Point is they did," he yawned. Was he really yawning with zombies just outside the window?
After gathering their things, it was time get to work. Grabbing their silenced pistols, they proceeded to shoot the zombies immediately outside the window.
It was quick work. After the window was shot out, they carefully climbed through it to see more of the things massed outside the front door. Seeing as they were between them and their car, they had no choice but to dispose of those zombies as well. In retrospect they should have parked the car outside the window of the master bedroom. Well, live and learn.
"Let's go home," Becky said, tiredly.
"Agreed."
Getting back on the road heading south, Cameron let Becky drive while he worked the map, trying to figure out the best way home. A GPS would've been lovely, but it seemed as if the satellites were no longer in service.
As they cruised, it sounded as if something exploded, immediately followed by the car going out of control. Becky held on tight to the steering wheel, and quickly maneuvered the car to the side of the road.
"Fuck!" Cameron exclaimed a minute later, kicking the flat tire as hard as he could.
"Where's the spare?" Becky asked, checking the trunk and underside of the car. "There's no fucking spare!"
Cameron stuck his hands in his pockets, put his back against the door, and sighed, "We'll have to use one of the abandoned cars, then."
"Lovely," she groaned, staring off into the distance. "Oh shit."
"What?" he asked, turning to see what she was looking at. "Oh shit." Down the road, Cameron saw as a pickup truck full of people got closer and closer. From that distance he couldn't tell if they were bandits or not—but then again one couldn't judge someone by their looks. Many people in Yuba were just as unkempt as some bandits.
The pickup slowed to a stop when they got nearer. Everyone in the back of the truck leapt out while carrying rifles—it looked threatening but it was probably precautionary.
Well if those people could take precautions, then so could they. Becky and Cameron got their own rifles from the back seat of the car. The people from the truck saw this, and immediately pointed rifles at them. Cameron and Becky did the same.
They simply stood their pointing their guns at each other. It was five against two. The two of them knew that they'd rather die than be taken captive by bandits. All of them stood there, breathing heavily, not saying a word.
Cameron's thoughts immediately went to his unborn child. He wanted to be there when it was born, hold it, and teach it how to kill zombies when he or she got old enough. But either way, if those people in front of him were hostile, it was not going to happen. The best he could hope for was to take out at least one or two before dying.
Blessedly, someone then got out of the cab of the pickup, and waved his arms. "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! We aren't looking for a fight here!"
Giving the man a once over, he didn't seem hostile. Glancing over a Becky, she nodded at him, and together they lowered their rifles. So did the people before them.
"Were you people staying at that house being pounded on by zombies?" he asked.
"Yeah, how'd you know?" asked Cameron.
"Well I spotted ya. So I put together a team to come to the rescue."
All of a sudden Cameron and Becky burst out laughing.
"Well thanks for that," Becky said to him, trying to suppress her laughter. "But as you can see we're fine."
"You guys aren't the only zombie killers in these woods," responded Cameron. "You the guys that picked clean all the markets around here?"
The man nodded. "Gerry Stepman," he said, extending his hand.
"Cameron," he greeted, shaking his hand.
"Becky," she said with a nod of acknowledgement. "Would you guys mind giving us a hand?" Becky asked, gesturing at the flat.
"Sure," he said with a smile. "So where did you people come from?"
"My people set up a nice little place in Wisconsin," said Cameron.
Gerry arched an eyebrow. "Wisconsin?" he asked. "You don't mean Yuba, Wisconsin, do you?"
"Yeah," he answered, stunned. Becky looked taken back too. "How'd you know?"
"Well," Gerry said, scratching the back of his head, "let's just say we have some friends in common."
Friends in common? Cameron thought, confused. Who the hell wouldn't report back that there were another group of survivors…. Unless they left for good, so they of course wouldn't report back. "Ohhhh…." Cameron responded, catching on.
"You mean the bible thumpers, don'cha?" Becky asked, crossing her arms.
"'Bible thumpers'?" Gerry repeated with a hint of distaste. "They are honest, Godly, people. How could you just toss them out like that?"
"Toss them out?" Cameron asked, flabbergasted. "Those idiots left on their own."
"They said they were forced out."
"Horse shit," Becky rebutted. "They just didn't like the fact that two men were allowed to get married. I have reservations too, but they faced the same dangers as me and Cam here. What right did I have to stop them?"
"Cause it's immoral."
"My ass," was Cameron's response. The situation was going downhill fast. "Look, I appreciate the rescue effort—I really do. But are you gonna help us or not, because we really gotta get back home."
"I don't think so." Stepman gestured at his people, and all of them pointed their rifles at them once more. "Ah ah!" he said when Cameron and Becky instinctively went for their own guns. "Don't even think about it. Now…why don't we go back to my home instead? We can clear the air a bit."
"God dammit," Becky hissed through gritted teeth.
"Fuck me," Cameron whispered. Why the hell couldn't they ever run into somebody friendly?