Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #132 Prep for battle tomorrow #SHTF #TEOTWAWKI

Sam starts the briefing the evening before battle. “Numerous attempts at establishing some form of truce or parley have failed. Of course we never sent a messenger, as they would likely either kill the messenger or hold them hostage.”

Sam sips his room temperature Coors beer. “We left messages taped to MRE cases, but none of our overtures was returned. We’ve reinforced the barricade walls, and doubled the number of mines around the perimeter. Our Scouts indicate that this bunch has no finesse or strategy. Expect a full frontal assault.”

That night all is quiet in the radio shack. If it were not for the battle, tomorrow we would have struck our sleeping tent – the last tent standing in the compound. The Adventists do not have much of a radio system to speak of yet.

Our Scouts along with a few of the skilled Adventists have searched for radio gear to leave with the Adventists. We have found several radio sets for receiving but so far nothing for transmitting. We cannot spare any of our radios.

A few hobby GMRS/FRS radios located in an old prepper’s stash will be left with the Adventists. Our Scouts found all the preppers dead in their small concrete bunker. Poor bastards all died of food poisoning or something similar. Perhaps they died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

The haul from the prepper’s stash was disappointing. Either someone beat us to the looting or the dead did not have that much stuff before SHTF. Even the Adventists are learning the hard way that it is far better to be prepared than attempt to survive after a zombie pandemic hits.

Shack, Honey and I are rudely awakened early as some assholes decide dropping our tent early is a good idea. I don’t know if the assholes knew we were sleeping inside or just did not give a shit. A screaming match between the assholes and Shack ensued.

At least after the men realized we were sleeping they were a little apologetic. Angry armed men are dangerous. Grumpy armed men expecting combat the following day are especially prone to fighting with each other. Thankfully the men did not come to blows, but some heated words were exchanged.

Our tents stored in the trucks the Convoy is taking north, get a good scrubbing with bleach and water before being wrapped in tarps and stored on the trucks. Being around my old Dodge pickup, which I have been away from gave me a sense of nostalgia.

Opening the door to the old Dodge pickup, released a pent-up miasma of unwashed bodies, discarded food wrappers, and other ungodly scents. My eyes watering, I rolled the windows on the truck down.

While we have a small solar panel mounted on the roof, I am uncertain if the old truck is going to start after sitting for over a month. The old truck’s engine chugs a few times but does not start. I am supposed to take the old truck and the troops assigned to me, to our section of the barricade to defend.

If I cannot get this damn truck started I am unsure how I am going to get my troops to our assigned position. Just as I am beating my head on the damn steering wheel, Shack shows up carrying a propane torch and an OD green canvas small tool bag.

Shack pops the bonnet open and fiddles underneath the damn thing for a minute. Later he tells me that he takes the air cleaner off, and holding the propane torch nozzle over the intake, hollers for me to crank the engine.

When I crank the engine, Shack cracks open the propane valve pouring propane into the engine. Not sure how much propane Shack dumped into the engine but it fired and ran a little fast for a few seconds. Shack tells me that was his fault because it took him a minute to shut off the propane.

After the old Dodge truck warms up and recharges its batteries, I drive the hulking truck down into the compound. Our trucks that we are not using at present are parked in an old field which has become our waste disposal site for bodies.

Other drivers are moving their trucks into the center of the compound as well. We want to move all the vehicles where they are less likely to get damaged. Some of us also need to transport troops to our assigned spots.

Driving the old Dodge again, after I have been out of it for so long makes me nostalgic for the early days with the Convoy. Finding an empty package of cigarettes makes me realize that I have not smoked in several months. Funny how other things replaced my need for nicotine.

Shack, Honey and I along with the eight men assigned to defend our section of the barricade, attend a brief before we all turn in for the night. The radio shack is manned only by one person tonight.

Our briefing was fairly simple. We hope that the opposing force does not realize that we have military hardware. The Stryker MGS and the mortar Stryker will remain out of sight in the center of the compound. The surrounding areas are already mapped for grid reference artillery plotting. All the barricade defense section commanders, such as I, have radios and a fairly accurate hand drawn coordinate map. With eight section commanders, along with Sam and Doc, the artillery lads could be busy.

Observing the tactics of this bunch, when facing a barricade they like to drive a large vehicle up to the barricade. Tossing a large grappling hook and chain, they pull the barricade apart with the vehicle. One of the best pieces of intel came from the survivors of the Lake City Way Barricade.

I have not seen Sutton and Randy (AKA Laurel and Hardy) much at all since we settled with the Adventists. We are on different work schedules, but it is nice to see the boys are alright. Another welcome sight is Mal, our young female light wheeled mechanic.

Mal has been assigned to vehicle maintenance on the other side of the compound. I rarely see Mal but am glad to see Carol and her catching up. I am surprised that Mal is not listed as combat capable and I realize why when I catch sight of her profile.

Mal holding the hand of a large Russian soldier is obviously pregnant. She has that nearly-ready-to-pop look, as if she has smuggled a large beach ball underneath her parka. Mal stands beside the pretty young Asian woman from the Lake City Way Barricade.

Dressed in body armor for the first time in months, everyone has taken on the familiar lumpy shape of fully loaded soldiers. The familiar weight of my PASGT helmet on my head reminds me of the seriousness of the situation. I note that the Princess, also obviously pregnant, is carrying her S&W 686 pistol again.

Sam calls the final meeting together. “Alright folks let’s check any last minute items before we load into the vehicles. At least this bunch is somewhat punctual. Our observers have observed them loading up on Bolivian marching powder and Dutch courage. Once they are good and loaded, the bunch will commence the attack…”

Suddenly Honey emits a bloodcurdling scream interrupting Sam’s brief. Dropping to the ground, she clutches her stomach. I see a flood of bright red blood soaking through her pants around her crotch.