Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #104 Troubles with sex, Adventists, horses, weather and cannibals #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF
All of the clouds reflect sunlight further cooling the earth. The increase in clouds results, in the near continuous precipitation. The rain has a metallic ozone smell to it increased by the presence of the frequent cobalt blue lighting. So much for climate change or global warming whichever hot topic button you preferred.
A lot of that water in those clouds is coming down as rain, hail and snow depending on elevation. Where we are about 300 feet or so above sea level, we get rain during the day. Nights are cool enough for snow and hail. The days are continuing to get cooler, with nights now continuously reaching below the freezing point. What little sunlight that reaches us has to filter through the heavy clouds. It may rain for months or years we have no way of being certain.
I have mentioned before the creeping white mantle of snow on the mountains surrounding our valley. The snow may not melt in my lifetime. The nearly nightly hail storms are often accompanied by violent cobalt blue lightning rip across the dark skies. The lightning plays hell with our radio gear. Most of the hail is fairly small, but snow flurries are becoming more prevalent.
Shack and I, despite sleeping in each other’s arms nightly, still have not managed to make love. Shack and I have had some great make out sessions. Mutual oral sex is one of the best forms of communication between lovers. Shack is a natural. He takes directions well. More importantly, he remembers how I enjoy being touched without reminding him.
Carol has the bad habit of catching Shack and I in flagrante delicto. I do believe that she gets off catching Shack and I. The first time that Carol burst into the tent, I pulled the pillows over my face in embarrassment. I am still unaccustomed to having someone walk into the tent while Shack is between my legs with his face buried in my sex.
The last time that she caught poor Shack with his face buried to his ears, I was in the zone, enjoying Shack’s increasing proficiency when suddenly Carol is standing beside our bed. “Is Shack in there?” Her voice, like a rude bucket of ice water, rolled over us. Shack immediately lifted his mouth from my wet sex. His poignant, blasphemous profanity wafted against my damp folds.
Adding insult, Carol lightly taps the back of Shack’s head. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s not polite.”
I used the pillows to hide my embarrassment while Shack suggested Carol perform a rather unusual sexual act, but knowing her she has probably tried it. Hidden by the safety blanket of our bedclothes, and the pillows covering my face, I hear Carol, miss subtle, find what she forgot and mercifully leave the tent.
After Carol blew our mood, Shack, and I talked quietly until it was time for us to get moving so that we could relieve Carol and Nikola in the radio tent. Unlike Carol and Nikola, who do not give a damn who sees them in flagrante delicto, Shack and I try to be more circumspect. I am sure everyone in the camp knows that Shack and I are lovers.
Because of my latex allergy and fear of pregnancy, Shack and I have not yet had penetration sex. None of the condoms that we have found is the newer polisoprene kind that does not bother me. Birth control was not high on the list of absolute necessities for surviving a zombie apocalypse.
Our convoy is having a small baby boom with both the Princess and Carol pregnant. Sarah’s twins are both doing well, although Thing 1 is still much larger than his younger brother. At a little less than three weeks old, Thing 1 is already rolling over and doing baby push-ups.
Doc thinks that the little monster could be crawling as soon as three months old. For a baby Thing 1’s muscular build is impressive. We are grateful that it does not appear that Thing 2 has been infected by his larger brother – yet.
Separating the twins did not seem to affect adversely either child. Neither child seems particularly attached to the other. The children are quieter than most children at this stage of life. Thing 1 still gives me the creeps.
Our first meeting with the Adventists was more exciting than I expected. Most of the Adventists group is older, well into middle age. There are no children within their group or women able to have children. Not sure how they ended up with such a disproportionate elderly group, but that is what they have.
The Adventists leader who is also a pastor has agreed to marry Nikola and Carol, despite the differences in ideology. The Adventists went without petroleum products almost immediately after KCAP struck. The Adventists are fortunate that they have several horses and all of the proper equipment for them.
I am not that familiar with horses and their needs, but I am surprised that they have not eaten the horses. When I mention eating the horses, the cannibals grin and the Adventists look uncomfortable. From their response, I am betting that a dispute over the horses ensued.
Until I lived with Iain, I had never ridden a horse. I did not get a chance to while I was living in Israel, and it was something that just did not interest me later. Unless Iain and I are going on a scouting or supply run, we ride horses. I have to admit that I am no expert on horse-flesh, but Iain’s Akhal-Teke horses are gorgeous.
Anyway, I digress again. The Adventists are a little upset that we moved in, taking what they had been so carefully hoarding, namely the beef now drying in our somewhat lopsided smokehouse. We were unaware of their presence, and they wisely seeing our heavy weapons, chose not to contest the possession of the beef.
Turning the other cheek in a very Christian manner, they instead decided to attempt to work with us. They also hoped to be able to trade with us for weapons as weaponry is something that they are critically short of. I got a sense from the Adventists that their weapon situation is rather urgent.
While discussing the trade issue, the Adventists already heaping various canned goods upon the table; one of the gate guards urgently calls for the colonels on the radio. The guard broke a long-standing prohibition on radio use. I decided the gate guard must have assumed his request for the colonel was urgent enough to break radio silence and risk the colonel’s wrath.
Then the Adventist leader shocks us all with the statement that he was expecting the cannibal leader to join us. Rick and the Princess are both shocked; they sit silently with their mouths open. The Princess finally closes her mouth with an audible pop and puts her hand protectively over her stomach. The Princess’ baby bump is just starting to show.
It seems that there is a small group of cannibals on mountain bikes at the gate who want to trade with us, as well. The Adventists leader says that they are familiar with this particular cannibal enclave. The Adventists and the cannibals have established a shaky truce.
A truce between the two groups gives me the creeps, but I have a feeling that I may not know all of the facts. A truce with cannibals reminds me of the parable of the scorpion and the turtle. I am amazed to hear the Adventist’s leader casually mention that they have regularly traded food with the cannibals for a while.
Sam sends an armed escort to the gate to escort the cannibals to the farmhouse. The cannibals are to leave their bikes at the gate and any long weapons they might carry. The guards are instructed not to search the cannibals and not to provoke them. In a short while the escort reports that they are on the way back to the farmhouse with the cannibals.
Shack and I look out of one of the large bay windows in the farmhouse. Beside me Shack mutters under his breath, “Well, there goes the fucking neighborhood. We just showed them where a whole moveable feast is.”
Seeing five pale white, bald cannibals walking up the driveway was an eerie sight. I am not sure which was more congruous, their bald, pale complexion or the fact that they were dressed in the latest trendy mountain biking gear from REI, Under Armour, and Nike. I have to admit that the cannibals cut a fine figure with rippling muscles underneath the skin-tight, colorful bicycling gear.
The cannibals all had several large bladed knives strapped to their bodies, most of them attached to a hydration bladder back pack or a web belt of some fashion. I assume that they also had small pistols secreted somewhere upon their persons, as well. The tight Lycra was so smooth that any gun, no matter how small would be rather obvious.
While the cannibals are on the way, Sam sends Junior to round-up two of the Quick Reaction Forces (QRF). When the first QRF team assembles in the dining room, Sam sends them upstairs. The second QRF Sam sends into the basement. Having 20 more armed soldiers, in the house, immediately makes me feel better.
Most of us, probably subconsciously, check their side arm. I also ensure that my Glock fighting knife and my Mossad issue, collapsible Asp, are both ready. Shack checks his Serbu Super Shorty Remington 870 strapped to his left thigh. Shack removes the Rhodesian jungle load exchanging the shells in the gun for 2 ¾ inch #4 buck shot.
I also hear several weapon safeties flipped off. We quickly and quietly reposition ourselves at the table so that the convoy members are sitting with our backs to the wall. The Adventists are shocked by our actions. One of the guards escorting the cannibals left his radio mike open so that we can hear the cannibals approaching.
None of us appreciated the smallest cannibal male calling one of the guards sent to escort them to the farmhouse as “dead man walking.” Even his own leader rebuked the smaller cannibal by cuffing him upside the head. I wonder if, from the ground, the cannibals could see the barrel of the 240B that is in the upstairs window of the farmhouse covering the driveway.
I also wondered if the cannibals sensed that they were also being covered with our sharpshooters who have made quite the impressive sniper hide in the top of one of the old silage silos. The top of that silo is the highest point around giving the sharpshooter an unobstructed view for miles around.
With all of the trees cut down, the snipers have an unobscured view of most of the property and surrounding areas. I learned later that the snipers on duty with the 240B team besides them reported the cannibals coming long before the gate guards.
I know that most of our weapons including the 240Bs wear older AN/PEQ-2A TPIALs. A concern is the dearth of good AA batteries. I heard that they even rigged the M-50 Ontos so that its four 106mm recoilless rifles are aimed with the aid of some piece of IR gear. The original .50 caliber spotting rifle on the Ontos is useless, because we lack the proper ammo for it.
The Ontos carries a 240B in the pintle mount on the turret rather than one of the 1919A4s. Between the Ontos and the Quad .50 plus the heavily camouflaged 20mm cannon, someone attempting to attack from the highway is in for one hell of a time. Thankfully, all three heavy weapons plus the MGS and mortar Stryker, held in reserve, are highly mobile.
Should someone survive the booby traps and other nasty’s in what used to be the woods surrounding the farm, they will discover that our heavy weapons are easy moved. The farmhouse sits on the peak of a small hill, giving us the advantage of high ground. One thing I can say about the cannibals is that they are not stupid.