Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #94 Settling on the farm SHTF & TEOTWAWKI

“It is really hailing out there hard now,” the youth says. “My older brother and I did pretty good this morning shooting rabbits. We hope to get a few more. Oh, by the way, supper tonight is something called sugar spiced fish. It’s some fresh salmon we caught in that creek marinated in sugar, salt, and dill. Sounds ok.”

Finished loading his rifle, the youth ducks back outside into the driving hail. I have never tried sugar spiced fish before. But as he said, it does sound good. The fish has to be better than some of the other things we have tried to eat. Most of the convoy is ultimately sick of reconstituted peanut butter.

Shortly after the Remington armed youth departs, Nikola returns carrying a pair of plaid plastic Thermoses. Flopping into a folding metal chair next to Carol, he pours hot Spruce tip tea for everyone. Sipping the shitty tasting hot tea, I choke on it as Carol punches Nikola lightly on the shoulder loudly announcing that thanks to him she is still dripping. God, the woman, has no filter between her mouth and brain.

Looking at me, Carol blurts out, “You know this guy actually wants to marry me. I mean really, the whole shebang. Priest, rings and everything. He’s Orthodox but says that any priest will do.”

Nikola for his part wisely remains silent donning headphones and fiddling with the radio tuning knob.

“Looking for Latakia again?” Carol asks sweetly. Nikola nods his affirmative, sipping his tea. I am somewhat familiar with Latakia, Syria as it was the home of Russia’s largest foreign electronic eavesdropping facility. Anyone of worth in the intelligence community should be at least passingly familiar with Latakia.

Latakia is one of post-Soviet Russia’s worst kept secrets. I had not heard that Nikola was familiar with the old Russian base or that we had contact with it either. I watch Nikola fiddle with the radio dials for a while. I wonder what prompted Carol to ask her question. Carol, never one to remain quiet, answers my question.

“Nikola was able to talk to Latakia for a little while last night. He knows a few of the people there from his days in the Russian Navy. From the poor bastards stuck there, we learned a little about what is going on in the Middle East. Near the Med, the zombies are very bad. In the heart of the desert, the zombies cannot survive. The heat and lack of water kills the fucking zombies but not quite as quickly as we would like.”

Carol glances at me and then at Nikola. Carol raises her red bushy eyebrows at Nikola, who shrugs at her. Obviously the couple is considering something concerning me. After their last little performance and Carol’s admitted hedonistic leanings, I worry what they might be.

“Ruth there is no real easy way to tell you this. Latakia said that, most likely it was Iran, which had taken the liberty of dropping a small tactical nuke upon Tel Aviv. Someone again most likely Iran, also dropped a neutron bomb upon Jerusalem. Latakia did not have any more information about Israel. I am sorry.”

I am shocked but had been expecting something such as this to happen for some time. Most Israelis understood that it was just a matter of time before one of the Arab countries surrounding our home acquired a nuke. I had already assumed that all of my family in Israel was already dead.

At my shocked sigh, Carol picks up the same trashy romance paperback novel she has read several times by now. Any book or magazine is of interest now as there is no TV or other electronic media to provide visual pablum. Minus electronic entertainment, kids who would have never touched another book in their life once out of school are suddenly voracious readers.

Any book or magazine is valued, from the classics to any trashy romance novel or adventure epic. The lads are reading the poems of Homer the Iliad, and the Odyssey as well as Shakespeare. I have been trying to get through a battered ancient paperback copy of The Quest by Wilbur Smith. The book just has not grabbed my attention, so I am looking to trade for something more to my liking.

I admit to not being much of a reader until the zombie apocalypse hit. Now I try to read something just to pass the quiet hours. Suddenly devoid of electronic entertainment reading has resurfaced as a major interest. Shack suddenly steps into the tent carrying the hand cranked battery charger.

“Man it smells like pussy in here,” Shack remarks; mister tactful. Carol blushes prettily, and then ducks her head behind her paperback book while Nikola does not even bother to acknowledge Shack’s comment. Shack drops the charger on the floor extending its legs so that a sitting person can crank the handles.

One of my least favorite chores is turning those damn handles. It is a necessary evil so that we can keep our purloined bank of automotive batteries charged. Shack hooks up the battery terminals to the charger. Grabbing the yellow Fluke meter Shack then checks the battery bank power level before muttering to himself and flopping into a chair.

Shack is obviously tired. He smells of wood smoke and sweat. I notice that Shack’s knuckles are split and torn from his fight with Scarecrow. Stretching almost to my limit I touch Shack lightly on the arm.

“Come with me bubele let us go get those hands taken care of.”

Turning to look at both Nikola and Carol, I decide on a course of action whether they like it or not.

“I am taking Shack over to the medical tent. Then we are going to grab chow. After we eat, we will come back to spell you guys so that then you can eat. And for the love of God, try not to be fucking again when we come back, please. Oh, and has anyone seen Shen today?”

Standing behind me Shack mutters, “Fucking?”

A prettily blushing Carol speaks from behind her book. “Shen has been chasing that black cook for a while. You might see him while you are eating. Just look for a horny Chinese guy with his tongue hanging out and a hard-on.”

I pull Shack from the radio tent by the hand. Proceeding across the muddy compound heading for the medical tent, we walk silently holding hands. Suddenly Shack grabs me by the shoulders. Yanking me into the shadows beside the red brick chimney underneath the eaves of the white farm-house, he pushes me into the corner.

Shoved against the rough wooden house wall, I feel the cool, gritty wooden planks of the house siding against my back. Shack crushes my lips with his swallowing my groans of pleasure. His ardent kissing sends shivers through my body. Shack’s kissing has improved significantly as he proves keeping me pinned to the wall.

Next chapter: Will Ruth and Shack finally make love?