Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #135 Start of battle & blazers in the forest #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF #WCS

Fucking deer! However, the deer hurriedly rushing past indicates something else is in the forest pushing the deer past us. We have not seen deer in several weeks. If it were not for the fact that we are nearly in combat, some of the lads would have shot several deer.

We certainly could use the fresh meat. Fresh meat has been scarce, with our foragers having to venture farther from our camp. It has been a real trial keeping hungry people from attacking the few farm animals we have managed to spare.

“I meant Viet Cong used 800 tons of explosives from failed US ordnance. Mujaheddin did same Soviet ordnance and then, later American. Russia make good explosives.”

While talking to me, Nikola takes a moment thoroughly cursing his Russian crew. I am not sure encouraging the Russians to dig deeper and faster by questioning their likely parentage and the manner of their conception is an effective management method.

Russian is a coarse language with a rich curse vocabulary. Cursing in French is beautiful, but Russian cursing is much more creative. Nikola’s urging causes me to consider if maybe my fighting hole may not be deep enough. While I am considering the lack of depth of my hole, Nikola starts talking again.

“General had many weapons in his bunker we stole. Include many tons explosives. By way, note with Polish pistol said got from VC deserter.” He fingers the odd-looking duck-bill on the front of the Polish machine pistol.

“Same caliber my Stechkin. But only one magazine. Hope not need Polish pistol not best close weapon. Empty magazine soon – slow reload.”

After the paniced deer bounded through our position the forest is still. I scan the forest with my binoculars until I feel my eyes strain. Shack uses a thermal imager, searching for any warm bodied object. Of course, the dead zombies will not show on the thermal as they are ambient temperature.

Suddenly an ear-shattering rifle shot echoes through the forest. The shot came somewhere from behind us.

“Might be PTRD-41 14.5mm anti-tank rifle. Sent a few lads out with heavy rifle to cripple vehicles. Don’t have many rounds.” Falling silent, Nikola looks around.

Lowering the thermal imager from his eyes, Shack remarks, “Well, after we left bags of uncut Bolivian marching powder laced with rat poison where they were sure to find it, it might have cooled their ambition to attack us.”

I knew that our Scouts had located someone’s happy stash of uncut powder. I was not aware that the Colonels laced it with Strychnine and had it placed where the attackers might find it.

“Yeah, the Scouts tucked the laced dope in the door panels of some fucking huge SUV that had ‘I’m the local dope dealer’ all over it. Had to make sure it was not too obvious though, ‘cause we didn’t want to make them suspicious.” Shack’s breath fogs as he speaks.

This late in the afternoon, the temperature has started to drop. The shadows are getting longer. I am not looking forward to a night spent shivering huddled in a muddy hole. We cannot build a fire, so we are going to freeze.

I need to talk with Nikola about how we are going to arrange for our troops to sleep and setting of the guard rotation. I also need to get in touch with the Adventists on my left flank. I have not seen the Adventists at all which worries me.

I mention the lack of Adventists on my left flank to Nikola. We consider walking over there to talk to them when Shack, looking through the thermal again, yells that he has movement.

“Fuck! Shack what is it?” I yell at him.

“Don’t know but it is fucking huge in the thermal.” We hear something crashing in the forest, and unless I am crazy I distinctly hear cowbells. Maybe I am going crazy.

Just as I doubt my sanity, Nikola says, “I hear cows.”

Now we can all hear several cowbells. Stampede I am wondering? The crashing in the forest gets louder. I smell smoke as well. I hear talking to my left, I fucking hope that it is the Adventists in their position.

“Great balls of fire,” Shack yells. Jamming my binoculars to my face, in the fading sunlight I can see several zombies staggering towards us through the forest. Each of the poor bastards has a flaming tire wrapped around their arms. A clanking cowbell hangs on a chain from around the flaming zombie’s waist.

“Are they trying to burn the forest down?” Shack mutters.

“Distraction technique. We shoot burning zombie it falls and ignites forest. Eventually zombie will fall and forest will burn anyway. Surprised poor bastard survived this long.”

“I smell gas,” Shack says.

“It’s called necklacing. You take a tire shove it over some poor bastard’s shoulders. Then you pour gasoline into the tire and light it. The tire burns hot and a long time.”

“Nikola, Ruth what the fuck do we do?” I notice all the men are looking towards us. A light sleet starts falling. The sleet will not be enough to extinguish the burning tires, but it is enough to make us miserable.

“There is only a few burning zombies. We need to go out there kill the zombie and throw dirt on them extinguishing the fire.”

“Easier said than done, Ruth.”

“I know sweetheart, but it needs to be done. Nikola and I will each take five members of our teams, killing the blazers. You will be in charge of our section while we are gone. See if you can send someone over to check on the Adventists on our left flank.”

I can tell from the stern set of his lips, Shack does not like what I have told him to do. After I choose my five, Shack details one of the men to run over to the Adventists.

The 12 of us quickly surround the blazers. Using long-handled spears, we skewer each blazer through the body underneath the flaming tire. Once skewered, we pin the blazer to the ground. When the blazer is down, it is shot twice in the temple with the suppressed Kel-tec PMR-30 carried by one of my men.

The little 30 grain, red-tipped Hornady bullets kill the blazers quickly without exiting the opposite side of the cranium. The bloody battle is brief but we manage killing the blazers without setting either ourselves or the forest on fire.

Using our shovels Edward, along with one of my men and I toss dirt extinguishing the last blazer. I hate the smell of burning flesh. It is going to take me forever to get this stench out of my clothes and hair.

Suddenly, a zombie stumbles out of the thick forest undergrowth; his flesh-dripping skeletal hands snag my hair.