Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Toll City, Colorado (Part two) Running Scared; The Zombie Wars.
We came out of Toll City, Colorado at about 7:30pm after killing hundreds and hundreds maybe thousands of zombies; four buses held every one of the survivors with a few seats empty on each bus; a grand total of 130 adults and five kids ranging from 3 to 5 years old.
Our defensives had been worked and reworked for nearly a year; we had trap after trap set; diversions and dead ends to snare them; they worked exactly as they had been planned trapping and slowing the zombie advance giving the firing teams clear shots as the hoard was forced to slow and maneuver through obstacles we placed in the killing zones. Buildings surrounding our strong hold had been set with incendiary devices; the attacking zombies filled these buildings trying to find clear paths to breach our walls. They were killed in the hundreds as the buildings were set on fire; zombie bodies rained from the upper floors leaving flaming smoking trails in the failing light as they fell in burning masses. Piles seven or eight deep of fallen zombies in long sweeping rows from over lapping automatic rifle fire caught fire from phosphorous grenades; smoke blocked the view of thousands of advancing bobbing heads.
The ocean of zombies never slowed as the growing tide reached to the horizon pushing through the fires and heavy machine gun fire without pausing; it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The swarm reached to the horizon flowing in pulsating bobbing rivers; swirling, pouring around obstacles creating eddies then clearing weaving picking up speed climbing over the flaming stacks of their own dead mindless of the roar of automatic machine gun fire cutting lines through their ranks. They pushed up against the twenty five foot walls we build and climbing on top of one another using the first as stepping stones to climb higher; stacks of zombies would build up to nearly the top of the walls then collapse onto their selves just to rebuild again. We poured hundreds of gallons of thickened gasoline on the growing zombie piles burning the zombies in huge stacks as they attacked the walls; the growing piles of undead would just move a few feet to the side of the raging fires and build again in teetering stacks; the walls were breached by their sheer numbers. Topping the walls they’d pour down into the lower areas between the twenty five foot walls and the five buildings we had fortified; windows and doors had been sealed tight and reinforced, there was nowhere for them to go after falling off or being pushed off by the sheer numbers climbing over the walls into the pits. We continued to pour gallons of thickened gasoline into and on top of the teetering piles of zombies breaching the walls; the smoke was stifling.
The local zombie population had taught us well over the previous months how they’d attack; wave after wave had been beaten back in the year working up to the hundreds of thousands of the coming swarm. The zombie army had been tracked moving north for the last six months via short wave radio coming out of South America as they overran one strong hold after another; survivors running for their lives trying to put distance between them and the over whelming hoard moving north like a flood.
Our plan was to kill and delay as many of the zombie swarm as we could; we knew our five building fortress wouldn’t hold against thousands and thousands of zombies on the run for fresh meat; at the last minute we hoped to escape in buses and head due north away from the flood looking for the next sanctuary city or at least another strong hold and again make a stand. We fortified the buses as much as possible; our southern most scouting team ran half the way home on a flaming rim after pushing through a tangle of zombies that surrounded their vehicle a zombie rib pierced and flattening the tire. We decided not to fight the zombies as the security gates opened in the lower level of building five. They filled every square inch of the loading docks within a minute of the gates opening; the screeching sounds of the heavy security electric gates rolling in their tracks brought hundreds of zombies from the streets down into the basement area to our buses surrounding them in a sea of undead. We slowly pushed against the hoard with the buses carefully trying to split the thong without knocking them down and under the buses putting our precious tires at risk. We nearly made it but the zombies were so packed together they started falling as the buses pushed them into tighter groups around the building pillars that held the tracks for the doors at the street exiting through the security gates. The third and forth bus had to climb and run over stacks of zombies as they made their way slowly though the standing grasping hoards; they pushed the tight packed zombies forward then backing up a few feet and getting a short run into the zombie thong they slowly made their way out of the garage pit. Pitching side to side it was a miracle that only bus four had one flat tire as they slowly drove against the growing swarm of zombies blocking the buses to the streets.
We made it just over a mile on one smoking wobbling rim before stopping to change the ruined tire and wheel switching the spare as fast as the crew was able. A line of fast approaching zombies could be seen closing the distance running at top speed as bus four was lowered off the jacks and tools were hurriedly put away. Two fire teams put down a constant spray of suppressing fire towards the fastest of the running zombies; hitting a fast mover the next zombie in line would jump like a hurdler over the fallen zombie just to be hit by the next bullet falling making a staggered pile of dead or injured zombies. Slower zombies had to vault the fallen or go around the stack slowing the running hoard.
They caught the bus before it was able to get to speed; fighting the no climb wire we’d attached to the sides of the bus the zombies couldn’t find a hold and we escaped without a single zombie climbing and clinging onto the bus; we drove fourteen hours through the night into the following day.
Skirting everything but the smallest of towns we quickly discovered that the roads were filled with abandoned cars. We pulled into a County road maintenance yard and found a huge dump truck with a snow plow; the keys clearly marked and hanging in the office; filling the dump truck with gravel we hoped the extra weight would help clear the derelict vehicles from the roads. The use of the unprotected truck was dangerous but without it we’d be stalled at every town we came too; slowing to a near crawl and lowering the plow the truck easily pushed most cars quickly out of the way of the buses, larger vehicles could be moved by pushing against the rear or front twisting and spinning the vehicle around and clearing just enough space for the buses to drive through. We flattened the gravel in the trucks dump box and put two fire teams up in the box giving them a good view from the height of the huge truck. We had made good progress as late afternoon arrived; we’d need to find a secure spot to make camp for the night; all of our vehicles needed fuel. We’d need to find an outlying station with diesel or risk a zombie attack in the next small town.
They came in the night; the first fire team opened up with everything they had at one a.m. and in seconds every fire team was involved. We were lucky that the team heard them before they got to the buses; we evacuated everyone from the buses and those without rifles or weapons stood in the center of the tight circle of the fire teams reloading and clearing jammed rifles. The sound was deafening as the rifle explosions bounced back to us off of the near bus sides; we were forced to abandon the buses by the size of the zombie attack slowly retreating away from the protection of the buses. We left piles of dead zombies; those cut in half by the automatic weapons continued to pursue crawling and dragging themselves along with an arm or leg left still attached after being hit numerous times. As we retreated we had to be cautious of any zombie laying in the dirt that might bite an ankle or leg as we stepped over them; each zombie had to be shot in the head at close range to be safe to walk past. It seemed an eternity but by my watch the fight lasted only fifteen minutes and cleaning up the shot up zombies an additional ten minutes; we’d lost but one team member by getting blocked and caught in one of the buses. It broke out hearts to have to shoot and kill one of our own but it hadn’t been the first time; cleaning the mess from the bus interior was the worst.
As the sun came up we counted seventy three zombies and added five more before we’d cleaned the weapons and reloaded the buses for the second day. We were in need of ammunition and new weapons; we’d need to find another National Guard Armory to resupply before everything got too low; heading up Hwy 13 keeping our distance from any larger towns Craig had an armory that dated by to the mid twenties, our hope being that it hadn’t been broken into and cleaned out already.
Pulling into Craig at two p.m. we found the Armory on Yampa Ave; with bolt cutters we cut the large chain and padlock and pulled all four buses and our snow plow into the fenced in parking lot. Checking the heavy doors the armory was still intact. The building was old, constructed of brick, windows covered in heavy steel fabric, the roof covered with metal roofing; it was the perfect building to overnight in. A sign coming into town said the population was nearly nine thousand but we hadn’t attracted a single zombie and the town appeared to be deserted but multiple buildings had been destroyed in what had to have been a long drawn out fight. It took an hour to get the heavy buildings door open without destroying them in the process; we’d want the use of them overnight if we ended up attracting more zombies. A huge bonus we found the building had a central wood burning stove left over from the original construction before electric or gas took over as normal heating; we’d have heat and hot water a luxury we’d hadn’t had since leaving our strong hold. As we hoped the armory had a nice supply of ammo and a few old weapons that would supplement what we’d been able to get our hands on that still functioned.
Our new home for the night sat neatly in the center of a half acre lot surrounded by an eight foot heavy wire fence with barbed wire wound along the top. We found everything we needed inside to chain and lock the gate we’d cut opened to access the site; three fire teams sites were chosen and using sandbags built supports for the heavier guns. We were ready for the night with little worry of being overrun again.
As the sun was setting we could clearly smell smoke; wood smoke from a camp fire or a wood burning stove. The wind was coming from the north directly down Yampa Ave south bound; how far up the street we could not tell. With the sun going down it was much too dangerous to go out on foot so we sent out the snow plow with two fire teams to investigate. Moving slowly with the huge flood lights of the snow plow glaring in the fading light they discovered the smoke was coming from the chimney of another brick building two blocks from the armory; the sign said Calvary Baptist Church; worried faces could be seen through the high dirty windows peering out at the bright lights. They were too scared to come out of their brick fortress in the fading light and warned of bands of prowling zombies that came every night assaulting the doors and windows of the church. Our team gave them as many rifles as they could spare with ammunition and promised to return the following morning and hurried back to the armory.
As we were having dinner with smoke pouring out of the chimney heating shower water and warming the building a single zombie walked slowly to the fence his face pressing the wire. He stood staring at the fire team behind their sand bags not twenty feet from him. He was in good shape without many injuries from his turning; his clothes were rumpled dirty but not torn to shreds like so many of them. No one moved an inch; he swiveled his face to the side looking up Yampa Ave the wire pushing his nose against his cheek; shuffling his feet he slid along the wire and slowly walked north towards the Church in the distance.
Twenty minutes later; “We’ve got trouble!” Everyone spilled out of the armory; in the distance you could hear pounding and an occasional zombie screech; that sound froze your blood in their veins. It meant the zombies were close to getting fresh meat and in their excitement they’d scream a high pitched bloody screech that meant fresh meat was close at hand. One zombie after another began to pour from the neighborhoods south of us heading quickly towards the sounds of a feast; the numbers grew into the hundreds as the street and front yards filled with zombies. Our fenced in yard was an island in the river of zombies as they flooded past scraping the wire in their hurry to feed; everyone was frozen in place watching the entire city of Craig sweep past heading for the church. “OH my god!” was enough to stop two zombies as they slid along pressed tightly against the fence by the moving hoard. Zombies behind them unable to continue stopped also; slowly their heads turned as they realized fresh meat was just feet from them. One zombie turned screeching at the top of his lungs; he jumped climbing the fence catching the attention of several zombies ten or so deep in the moving throng; they stopped pushing towards the fencing following the climbing zombie. Our fire team not twenty feet away began shooting zombies as they reached the top of the fencing; some fell back into the crowd as others fell inwards pulling the barbed wire loops down and away from the fence top. Looking over my shoulder towards the corner where the fencing turned ninety degrees and headed behind the building zombies were falling backwards off the fence as others climbed over the fence landing inside the wire as the second fire team poured bullets into the climbing zombies.
“Get inside get inside!” The single person wide door clogged with people trying to get back inside of the armory; zombies poured over the fencing. I watched from forty feet away as the double gate fell under the weight of the zombies giving a clear path to our front door clogged with people. Twenty feet of fencing on both sides of the gate fell pushed down by the weight of hundreds of climbing zombies; rolling springing to their feet the zombies were on our people in seconds.
There was nowhere to go so I ran to the closest bus yelling to those near to me to follow as ran past people pushing to get inside the building. Two zombies ran past me ignoring me jumping on the backs of our people clawing towards the jammed door; I watched as zombies pilled four deep, some walking on top of the screaming crowd, no one followed me; I stood alone at the door swing handle as the hoard smothered and covered our people. I closed the door locking it tight; I pressed my hands against my ears to silence the screech of feeding zombies.
I’m quite alone as I pencil this final report; oceans of zombies surround my sanctuary eight feet wide by forty feet long. Someone has the keys; maybe in a pocket or lying on the ground somewhere, who knows, it doesn’t really matter anymore. I’ve got no water or food; my every movement excites the zombies into a rage and they beat the bus walls for hours trying to get to that last piece of fresh meat.
I’ve finished my report there’s nothing further to add; the sea of zombies must be in the thousands; one window is broken and hands reach looking for a snatch of clothing to pull to their mouths. A crack and a zipper like sound as one roof vent is torn away; rivets pop falling into the bus floor. A zombie head and then shoulders wiggle through the small vent opening; the fit is tight but he’s making it.
I smile as I hold the Glock .45 auto not taking my eyes off the struggling zombie; it’s heavy and mean looking the bore is huge; I’ve got one chance to do this right; the cold metal front sight digging into the top of my mouth, the zombie is almost through, pulling tighter on the slack in the trigger, he drops hitting the bus floor head first, rolling over turning towards me our eyes lock, jumping to his feet h……..
From the Ramblings
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Toll City, Colorado (Part 1 of 2); The Zombie wars
Twelve twenty seven a.m. March 3rd, 2018
We knew they were coming; we just didn’t know when or how many. Reports said they were in their thousands maybe tens of thousands; calls came in hourly and some just contradicted others. One thing we did know was it was going to be ugly. The last report from the South came in at Ten forty five p.m. via radio from the extreme Southern scouting party. Radio scratchy from the distance and nearly unreadable due to the extreme volume of automatic weapons fire and explosions told the whole story without understanding every word spoken. Just one part of one sentence froze my heart “… It’s a fucking sea of them, they …” Then the radio went dead; silence.
Toll City, Colorado sits nearly in the center of the State of Colorado and somehow became home base to We the survivors nearly one year ago as the spread of the zombie apocalypse came to the U.S. shores. Unique in the structure of the downtown area made it easy to construct tall walls and heavy defensive positions around a group of five buildings in the center of the city. The buildings sat in the middle of what from the air looks like the hub of a wheel with spokes being streets running away from the center towards the outlying areas of the city. We walled in the area around the five buildings and had a readymade fort in mere weeks. Construction has continued nearly around the clock only stopping to fend off attacks from the local zombie population for nearly the full year. We think we are ready for the hoards when they come.
Twenty five miles South
“Get in the trucks! Move…..we can’t stop them!” Screaming at the top of his lungs John Michaels barely heard his own words; deafened by gun fire and grenades; high pitched ringing was all that was left of his hearing. Grabbing men and pulling them backwards as they sprayed automatic gun fire into the charging zombies he and the closest three men jumped into a humvee slamming doors as zombies hit the windows. “Go go before they get too deep!” The humvee rocked side to side as hundreds of zombies pushed to get to the fresh meat sealed inside. Tires spinning climbing over fallen zombies the humvee heaved left and right slowly picking up speed bumping and throwing the screeching mass to the sides. “Hit the brakes hard; throw them off the hood!” Michaels barked. Zombies slid off the humvee hood and disappeared under the vehicle; bouncing hard the humvee drove over the bodies, arms grasping at the underside.
“Anyone else make it?” Michaels asked “We’re the only vehicle; they didn’t make it to the jeeps.” Jimmy Owens said staring into the rear view mirror. “Markus; get on the radio and let Toll know we’re heading in as fast as we can go. Tell them the bad news.”
Standing in ankle deep snow with my back against the cement block wall that surrounded our tiny five building sanctuary, I hoped it would be tall enough at twenty five feet. Looking down Center Street it was a sea of barbed wire standing four feet tall in rolls from one side of the street to the other. Steel X’s welded together and lay on their sides stood five feet tall and at least that wide; fifty lay staggered along the Street. Barbed wire I understood but I questioned the need of the steel barriers. “Slows them down so we can shoot them easier, doesn’t give them a straight line run towards the walls.” Matt Wells said in his slow southern drawl. “Don’t want the fast ones getting here too quickly.” Wells was an architect in his former life; he’s now the lead in defensive structures. “I got a couple real good surprises for them in all these other buildings too; surprises they aren’t gonna like.”
“Ok get ready to stop; you guys get down below the windows; if I get taken keep going.” Michaels ordered and quickly jumped from the humvee slamming the door as he ran from the truck. Spinning around he opened fire on the zombies clinging to the top of the humvee cutting two in half as he raked the top with full automatic fire. Walking back to the truck he placed single rounds through foreheads of snapping jawed undead still managing to hold tight. Pulling on heavy gloves he dragged the undead from the vehicle making a stack in the middle of the road.
“Got one; stand by for the shot” The numbers “four four zero” were clearly visible in the distance on the side of the brick building. Looking down the streets yardages had been painted on building sides all along Streets leading away from the center defensive zone. The zombie was stumbling along the right sidewalk dragging a broken shoulder against the building keeping him from falling down. Placing the cross hairs just at the top of the zombies head, slightly tightening the squeeze on the trigger “Stand by, Shot”; everyone jumped at the huge explosion coming from five stories over head in the firing position; zombie brains splattered the brick wall, body dropping in a tangled heap. Three heavily armed men slowly twisted their way through the wire and steel barriers towards the fallen zombie. David Sims pulled his scope back to twelve power to widen the field of view looking for another target as the men drew close to the tangle of rags that was the dead zombie. Sims watched as they untangled the zombie spreading him out flat on his back. Pulling a wallet from the rear pocket, one member raised his radio to his mouth “This one’s from Northern New Mexico says the I.D. and the shoes are worn way down; I think he really did come that far; Over.”“Copy; pull the body into a near building and bring in the I.D.” “Copy” All three men disappeared around the corner pulling the dead zombie behind them.
With a gentle shake, “Chief; John Michaels is coming in from the South scouting party. Only four made it back; we lost six men and two humvee.” Keith Ames said quietly waking James Meek the security chief at just before 3a.m. “Ok…… get the generators going and a couple three fire teams ready to go; how long before they get here?” “About ten minutes; he called in his report. It isn’t good.” Keith said as he left the room. Getting to his feet James climbed the stairs to the command center located on the seventh floor in the center building surrounded by the other four smaller buildings that made up the safe zone.
With generators running at full speed powering the electric motors pulled the wire apart down the center of Market Street making a narrow lane a vehicle could be driven through. Headlights could be seen a full mile down Market Street as the surviving team drove towards the safe zone. As they approached the outer wire switches were thrown and the heavy barbed wire slowly pulled apart opening the narrow drive. Five zombies appeared stumbling from a door way moving slowly towards the noise of the vehicle engine. Two fire teams with night scopes fired sending brains flying in a red mist. Waiting for the wire to open driver Jimmy Owens rolled his window down to get fresh air into the moist aired humvee. Michaels opened his mouth to tell Jimmy to roll his window up when a fast mover hit the open window and drove his snapping mouth against Jimmy’s face sinking his broken teeth deep into Jimmy’s soft cheek. Three doors flew open as Michaels and the other two Scout party members jumped from the vehicle guns shouldered and pointed into the interior of the humvee. A thunderous explosion sounded from the fifty floor fire team and the biting zombies head exploded covering Bruce Durk in zombie blood and brain matter, Durk slowly fell to the Street also hit by the bullet as it passed straight through the zombies head. Marcus Wright standing three feet away from Michaels on the right side of the humvee swore under his breath. Michaels raised his hand towards Wright giving him the quiet sign. Rustling cloth to seat could just be made out as Jimmy Owens made the change to a zombie. With jaws snapping Jimmy flew across the humvee straight at Michaels standing just three feet from the open door. Falling backwards Michaels pulled the trigger on his rifle in full auto exploding the humvee door glass taking Jimmy’s head off his shoulders as he flew out of the humvee. Jimmy landed with a soft thud at Michaels’ feet; looking down at the dead Jimmy Owens, Michaels realized Durk on the far side of the humvee had made the change and had climbed under the humvee sinking his teeth into Marcus’s left ankle biting deep into his leg. Falling Marcus Wright pulled the trigger on his rifle firing 600 rounds a minute the last few rounds from the thirty round magazine blowing both his feet off. Michaels standing just out of reach stared into Marcus Wright’s eyes watching the pained scared eyes change filling with dark red blood and rage witnessing the change from human to zombie. Michaels placed the muzzle of his rifle against Wright’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Walking alone through the rolls of wire Michaels slowly made his way the 300 yards to the heavily fortified safe zone carefully watched by the fire teams.
Just after first light the first wave of zombies came into view at over a mile down one of the spokes; runners in the front followed by fast walkers then the broken zombies and lastly the crawling dragging zombies. The sound of the charging swarm hit our ears at a half mile; an eruption of gashing teeth, groaning growling guttural sounds; dragging, scraping noise filling in the cacophony. The advancing mass spread filling four spoke streets to the horizon; the zombie legion had arrived in the hundreds of thousands.
Waves of zombies filled the streets to as far as the eye could see; the fast runners hit the rolls of barbed wire at full stride tangling spinning into tight wiggling shapes pulling the wire tight until it sang with tension. Walkers climbed over the tangled zombies moving towards the walls with slower zombies stumbling, falling or crawling over the growing piles of zombies caught by the wire. At one hundred yards we opened fire cutting wide swaths in the advancing mass; a barrage of bullets cut them down, bodies piled into rows as they were cut down in long sweeping fire. Like a flash flood they flowed over the stacks of bodies and kept coming in a rolling mass of slow moving zombies, each fighting to get past the one in front to them. Zombies stacked eight deep tangled in wire as we cut them down with withering fire; zombies hit with bullets rolled down the front and back of piles. Barrels heated to red hot melted twisting useless were thrown down into the gleaming faces burning zombies to the bone as white smoke blew in the breeze as hot metal hit zombie skin. Making it to the walls zombies stacked against the twenty foot wall pushed from the rear they climbed over each other higher and higher towards the top, buckets of gasoline mixed with thickening agent were poured down over the stacking climbing zombies. Those that survived the flames moved left and right starting new piles climbing over those on the bottom.
Unable to breach the walls zombies filled the surrounding buildings trying to find a way to reach the fresh meat inside our walls; as the buildings filled with zombies, Matt Well’s surprise was set off; windows blew out under the heat and fire; flaming zombies rained down into the street leaving smoke trails as they fell from windows. Thick sickening sweet smoke mixed with heavy black carbon smoke choked lungs of the firing teams; tears of black soot poured down our faces. The heat from the flaming buildings made it impossible to fire down into the mass of zombies; white phosphorus grenades were thrown down into the throng burning zombies into pieces starting clothing on fire spreading the raging fires into the stacks of their dead.
The Southern wall was breached at two p.m.
Zombies piling up climbing on each other’s backs reached the top of the Southern wall; bucket after bucket of flaming gasoline mix failed to stop the advance as one fire would slow the stacking just to stack higher twenty feet away; our people fought until the last man barely made to safety and intense hand to hand combat to close the steel door before being over ran. A general fall back order was called and all defenders moved into the buildings closing heavy steel doors and windows; Zombies poured over the top of the walls. Moving up two stories more gasoline mix was poured burning hundreds zombies. Taking up new firing position we rained automatic fire down on the zombie mass with little effect as thousands more filled the streets pushing towards the safe zone.
Building four overran three p.m.
Building four sitting the most Southern of the five buildings which made up the safe zone fell to the zombie swarm as defenders fought floor to floor slamming heavy steel doors between floors just to see them beat open by sheer weight of zombie bodies being thrown against them. Again Matt Well’s planning saved lives as the fighting reached the top floor and fire teams roped across to adjoining buildings and ropes cut as zombies tried to follow.
Buildings two and three overran five p.m.
Both buildings two and three fell in much the same manner as building four; overran by sheer weight and numbers and supplies ran short and defenses faltered under the mass of zombie bodies.
Full retreat seven p.m.
The full final retreat was called at seven p.m. and everyone fled locking all doors and windows behind them to slow the zombie advance and ran for the basement of building five. Building five the center building of the five buildings complex held four buses that had been retrofitted with heavy wire over the windows and no climb wire screening on all sides and top to slow the piling on of zombies on the buses. Tires and wheel wells were reinforced and covered with heavy wire to protect the delicate rubber tires. All buses had been filled with supplies as the zombie hoards began the initial attack on the safe zone and were ready to go. Heavy security garage doors slowly started to inch open at seven thirty p.m. and the garage flooded with hundreds of zombies trying to breach the buses; we didn’t put up any kind of resistance fearing killing zombies in the garage area would trap the buses with their bodies.
Slowly the buses pushed through the thong inching forward a foot at a time; following one after the other so close together the zombies couldn’t force their way between the buses clearing a path through the hoard.
It was and sounds rather dull after fighting and killing hundreds and hundreds of zombies before we pretty much calmly hurried to the buses and drove away leaving the remaining thousands of zombies in the dust losing very few of our people during the struggle; but thanks goes to the planning and building of formidable defenses and gives us hope we will one day win back the world as we once knew it.
In a line of four buses we headed slowly north hoping to find another sanctuary city we could join before the zombie legion caught up with us again. Our numbers have slowly dwindled under the zombie scourge but our hopes are high.
See you on the other side.
This is part 1 of 2; please read part 2, Toll City, Colorado. Running Scared!
From the Ramblings.