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4:30 PM Stand Off
The hordes were coming toward the lights of the house by the hundreds. Somehow, they managed to get into the back yard. I seriously doubt any of them were smart enough to either climb the small fence or open the chain link gate, but they got in. (Ok, chalk another one up for Hollywood.)
We were surrounded. Jim, his partner, and my wife took the front windows. My daughter and I took the back windows.
Gunshots rang through the house. Zombies fell. They kept coming. Somehow, they knew we were there. I wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the rotting corpses out front, but they knew - probably the sound of gunfire gave it away (stupid rotting corpses and gunfire; they suck.)
I called over the headset to my daughter; checking in. She replied with her evil chuckle that she only used when she was doing something that’s not quite right, but still fun, “Not now, dad. I’m kind of busy.”
I could hear her chuckle over the gunshots, as she continued to blast away the undead that continued to poor in. (I was almost frightened, but then again, I was enjoying myself in that sick and twisted way, too.)
Then, I heard something for the first time, come out of my daughter’s mouth that I don’t think I was ready for: “SHIT! I’m out! DAD?”
I then heard the sound of a new magazine and her chambering a round into her 9 MM with another sound of, “Ooooh! Nice.”
My wife’s voice crackled over the headset, “I’m coming, kid, hang on. Jim? Take over.”
My wife made her way to the master bedroom, where my daughter was carefully picking her targets. Apparently my daughter failed to hit one; it grabbed her through the broken window and started to pull her toward him causing her to drop her pistol. My wife dropped the rifle she was loading to help pull her back in, screaming “NO!”
(Now, hearing all this over the headset, there’s only one thing you immediately think about doing, but in that split second, you realize that you have no time to panic, so you do what any parent would do.)
I ran to the bedroom, with guns blazing; one hand grabbing my daughter while the other held out my shotgun to its target. I justly stated, “Not on my watch, asshole!” and pulled the trigger.
Its head exploded causing it to lose grip on my daughter. My wife pulled her in and to the floor, holding her tight and checking for bite marks, while I continued firing at the zombies from my new post.
(uh-oh)
I told my wife to take the back kitchen window ASAP. We had to hold them off as long as we could.
Jim and his partner had their hands full, as well. (I don’t think she was enjoying the fun as much as we were, however, she was an excellent marksman - err - marksperson.)
As the night started to set in, we weren’t making much in the lines of headway. We were still trapped and fighting.
They kept coming. There was no end in sight. We needed an escape route.
Jim and I conversed over the headsets. We both agreed that we needed to clear a path to his SUV, get everyone in it, and get the hell out of dodge… so to speak.
After the long argument we then decided that everyone needed to work together to get into that SUV. However, one person needed to stay behind, as a continued distraction. Then when they were in and gone, the remaining person needed to blow the place to kingdom come.
Since no one wanted to die, nor risk death, nor the death of a loved one, we made the executive decision that someone could get to the roof and help clear the path. Once the path was cleared, they would then jump down and scramble to the SUV. (Hell, if Hollywood could do it… So could we.)
It was agreed. I would get to the roof through the attic and fire away, while the others slipped out through the garage and into the SUV. |
