Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #148 Leaving Lake Ki in a hurry #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF #WROL

Sharks are my first thought until I remember that this is a freshwater lake. The heads of zombies rise from the water. Some of the lads on the beach immediately begin shooting. One of the lads has one of those odd Kel-Tec 9mm carbines that use Glock magazines.

The old, folding Kel-Tec carbine looks odd with a large red Fram oil filter on the muzzle. Shack and I hurriedly dress in record time with the aid of Honey. As we run from the woods, we are joined by Rain and three of her husbands. Running full tilt, Honey easily passes us; her speed and agility is frightening. We pass Rick and the Princess dressing as fast as they can.

Honey literally runs up the side of a large cedar tree, her speed and agility allowing her to run most of the way up into the tree. Honey does a front flip somersault almost from the crown of the cedar tree. With a casual underhand toss, Honey flings all four of her frag grenades into the water among the rising zombies.

While still airborne, before her grenades splash down, she whips her SPAS-12 off of her back. Cranking the shotgun as only someone with her speed and strength can, she quickly unloads the shotgun. Landing lightly in a front somersault, Honey is shoving fresh 12 gauge shells in the SPAS-12 as she rolls with her momentum.

Rolling to her knees, Honey commences unloading the shotgun in to the crowd of zombies. The first zombie rising from the water is a young, white youth dressed as an unarmed security guard in gray slacks and a black long-sleeve shirt. Lake moss hangs from the silver security badge on his chest. His stomach has been ripped open, his guts trailing between his legs.

A blast of #4 buckshot from Honey’s shotgun hits security guard zombie in the chin, exploding his head like a gray and pink puss-filled sack. As security guard zombie’s headless corpse falls, Honey’s grenades detonate obliterating most of the other zombies. Under covering fire from the lads on the beach, our supplies are loaded, and personnel shoved into their respective vehicles.

As Shack and I run for our truck, we see Rick carrying the heavily pregnant Princess to the snow plow. At our truck, I consider grabbing either my B&T TP9 or my AR-15, but decide to use my pistol. I am a much better pistol shot than I am a rifle shot.

One of the lads has an XProducts AR-15 can cannon launching frag grenades into the lake. The kid has to rack the AR-15 action because the blanks used to launch the grenades will not cycle the action. The round US military and Russian frag grenades fit perfectly into the can launcher.

Rain and three of her five husbands make it to their truck. Rain’s other two husbands and her two co-wives are already loading their truck. Despite the unexpected arrival of the zombies, the beach is orderly evacuated in relays. You would think we have had to practice this a few times. I do not bother screwing on my suppressor for my High Power; with the all the grenades and shotguns there is far too much noise to bother.

I carefully aim and shoot, taking head shots when a zombie’s head clears the water enough. I am using the plentiful PMC 115 grain hollow point 9mm ammo. Shack and I cover Honey as she retreats from the beach; she is one of the last off the beach. I hear the radio on her chest crackle with static. Units are checking in ready as all of their people climb in.

I hear the snow plow start with a shaking rattle and cloud of blue-black smoke. As Honey gets close enough for me to hear over the sound of the grenades exploding and the whump of the can launcher, I hear Sam’s order to move out. Inserting a fresh magazine, I toss the depleted pistol magazine on the dash so that I remember to refill it.

Something cold touches my leg and I scream sure it is a zombie. Pointing my pistol at the floor, I am surprised to see LM calmly sitting in his spot munching on another MRE John Wayne bar. He pats my leg as if to assure me that everything is ok. Taking another bite of the chocolate John Wayne bar, he makes a “vroom, vroom” noise at me mimicking me starting the truck. Holstering my pistol, I climb in the Dodge’s cab.

Yeah, right kid, let us get the fuck out of here. I see more zombies staggering out of the water. Now that all of our personnel are accounted for and not in danger, we do not bother shooting any more of the zombies. Honey slides in the cab, she is not even breathing hard. Shack climbs in just as I start the old Dodge.

Honey drops her smoking shotgun down on the floor in front of LM. Thankfully the truck windows are down otherwise the smokey shotgun would fill the cab. Pulling a pair of OD green plastic US Army canteens out Honey guzzles one while handing the other to LM. Whatever bug juice Honey is drinking, it smells like oranges, so I am betting that it is Tang or some generic clone.

LM’s canteen is filled with something red and fruity smelling, leaving a red stain on his lips that looks far too much like blood for my tastes. As I slam the Dodge into second gear, popping the clutch, I watch more zombies shamble out of the water.

Dripping water and lake moss, the zombies are a sorry-looking lot. I never realized how many people wear hoodies in the Pacific Northwest, until I started paying attention to what everyone wears. The hoodie is so universal here, that it blends into the background.

A child zombie wearing a bright, Twinkie yellow hoodie in the shape of a Despicable Me Minion, complete with single goggled eye ball, staggers towards our truck. The child zombie wears a single green flip-flop and torn lime green yoga pants. The zombie child’s left side is soaked in blood, and her jaw hangs at a weird angle.

A single rifle shot rips through the woods. Zombie child’s head whips back as a spray of gore paints the ground behind her. Before her head whipped back out of my sight, I am sure that I saw a perfectly round hole appear just above her mouth. I am also sure that hole is 7.62 calibre. One of our snipers, probably either Randy or Sutton, put the child out of her misery.

As our convoy tears away from Lake Ki the sun breaks through the clouds for a moment, illuminating the carnage on the small rocky beach. We did not get a chance to gather trash or police our area, so we are leaving clear evidence of our presence.

Falling in line with the convoy, Honey hands me a tepid bottle of water from the floor boards of the truck. Until I grasped the water bottle I did not realize how parched I am. Guzzling the liter bottle of water, I try not to swerve too much until Honey holds the wheel for me.

Soon after leaving Lake Ki, we pass a sign for Kayak Point Golf Course. I understand that the golf course is close to the old Kayak Point Park. We should be there in an hour or so at this rate.