Chapter 13

Bad Memories

Back when I first started teaching I actually taught much closer to home. However, in my third year of teaching I had a run in with the Wilkinson family which changed my life forever. I knew the Wilkinson’s through momma and her church long before I had their daughter in my class. They had even been over for Sunday supper a couple of times. It seemed nice that I could have a student in my class that was known to me. It started out just fine. The young lady in question did her work and caused no problems. After winter break things started to change.

This young lady stopped doing work or at least stopped turning it in and her attitude became worse. I contacted her parents, we had conferences, and I even tutored her after school a few times. The end of the third quarter came around and this young lady had failed my class. I informed her parents and let them know there was still plenty of opportunities for her to bring her grade up the next quarter and get credit. When her parents confronted her about her grades and behavior it came out that this young girl was pregnant. Now I have no idea what went through that young lady’s head, but she somehow thought if she accused me of doing inappropriate things and being the father of her child that it would all work out somehow. Now instead of questioning their precious babies word, the parents of this pregnant girl went straight to the superintendent of the school district and accused him of harboring a child molester.

Needless to say when I came in to work the next day I was called into my principal’s office and told I was being placed on administrative leave. I was absolutely flabbergasted, I had no idea what was even going on at the time. I asked my principal why I was being placed on leave and he just said that he was unable to talk about the ongoing investigation. I inquired again about what the investigation was about, but he would not answer me. So here I was, a fairly new teacher, being told that I was put on leave due to something they were investigating and I had no idea what was going on. It was a comedy of errors from the beginning.

Now if that was all I probably would not be as mad as I was today. I was obviously innocent and the investigation the school and police conducted would prove that. The problem was the parents of young Miss Wilkinson, my accuser, went to the media also. I came home from school feeling very confused and not knowing what was going on to be greeted by a news van in my apartments driveway. The reporter ambushed me and started asking questions about the situation. Remember that I did not even know what was happening.

Basically my evasive answers due to my lack of knowledge came across as me looking very guilty. The next day I was finally contacted by the teacher’s union I was part of and informed about what was going on. I was furious about how I was being used. My name was being smeared in the media, while the “victim’s” name was protected because she was a minor. Eventually the truth came out and the child’s story was proven completely wrong. She admitted to making the whole thing up to avoid getting into trouble. The problem was my name and the story was headline news for two weeks and the retraction and apology from the media was either never given or buried deep in the news cycle where most people missed it. My reputation even though I was innocent was ruined in the local community. I was forced to move and start over in another town and my supposed victim and family just continued their life as if nothing had changed other than a new baby on the way.

I never did get an apology from the Wilkinson’s. I received an out of court settlement from both the family and the district who did not follow policy when dealing with my situation. That allowed me to own my house free and clear and gave me a good start on my retirement. That was the only positive that came out of that situation. Ever since then I have struggled to trust any person outside of the family and forget about dating and such. Every time I tried, I would start wondering what lies this person would tell about me and then things would spiral out of control. I eventually gave up trying to find a meaningful long term relationship and instead had a string of fortunate encounters on vacations or short term no responsibility hook ups. It was not good or healthy, but it was what my life had become. Now my own mother wanted me to make nice with the people that had ruined most of my life.

I don’t really think my mom really understood the trouble and difficulty that I went through. I truly believe that in her mind it was a youthful prank that got out of hand and since I was proven innocent then there should be no hard feelings. How wrong she was about that. I start transferring everything around into Betsy getting ready to leave. If I was lucky the Wilkinson’s would already be dead. This was reality though. My luck was terrible, I had probably used all of it up just surviving and not turning into a zombie. I would shadow and follow the family and try to keep them safe, but I could no longer stay in direct contact.

Maybe I can move ahead of them and prepare a few things to make their trip easier. After I shuffled things around and got Betsy ready to go I went looking for Roberto and Benji. I explain the situation to them and they both understand how I am feeling.

“Please take care of momma and Brittany. I still think it is safer for you all to travel and move together. I will try to keep an eye on the convoy and prep some things before you get there. For emergencies contact me on channel 11 and used your childhood nicknames so I will respond.”

“I don’t like seeing you leave, but I understand.”

“Me too brother, keep safe.”

What perfect timing. Just as we finished up our discussion we could hear an engine approaching. I signaled for Roberto and Benji to go and check it out. After about 60 seconds I could hear Benji talking much louder than necessary.

“Well if it isn’t the Wilkinson’s I have not seen you all in a coon’s age.”

Thank you Benji for giving me that heads up. Now I don’t have to actually meet them. I hop into Betsy’s driving seat and fire her up and leave out the back of the ranch. I saw momma on the back porch staring at me. It looked like she was crying, but I was already leaving and there was no stopping me now. I left out the back and soon enough I decide that I am going to go ahead and travel down to 278. Then I will go through and clear Barnwell and set up outside of Allendale tonight if at all possible. With my simple goals made I made a few turns and set off alone for the first time since this whole thing started.

I turned onto 278 and slowed down to about 15 mph. This is faster than the top speed of most of the zombies and slow enough for me to look out for any bad situations. I continue down the road for a few miles and gathered what looked like fifty or so zombies shuffling behind me. I decided that the next exit would be my stop to thin out the herd following me. I pull off on the exit and accelerate quickly and park on top of the overpass. I quickly pull out my favorite .30 .30 and one hundred rounds and place them on the hood. Next to it I place a semi-automatic .45 rifle with another 100 rounds. I am wearing the .22 in a shoulder holster and have the .45 still on my hip. I decide that being over prepared is better than under prepared. I also pull out a 12 gauge shotgun and a box of twenty shells. And lean it against the hood. That should be a good back up in case they get close.

I start shooting when the first of the zombies cross the 200 meter mark. The result is rather amazing. I see the group or mini-horde of zombies pause. They look like they are trying to figure out what has happened. 200 meters was far enough from me that while they heard echoes of the shot they could not actually picture what was hitting them. They milled around out until I had reloaded. I started shooting another dozen. I am not going to die to some crazy monster. I have plans. 20 down, now 30, reload, now ten more fall, followed by another ten. After seven minutes I had shot out the .30 .30 ammunition and started on the .45 rifle. Ten shots, reload, repeat. Finally, I ran out of my prepared .45 ammunition also. I grabbed my rifles and put them back into Betsy. I put the shotgun in the passenger seat and fired up Betsy.

I really needed that release. I probably cleared out at least 150 zombies. I know that I missed a few times and some of them took double shots, but at that range with no real obstructions it was surprisingly easy. I am going to need to load up on more ammunition soon. I probably only have 500 rounds of each type of rifle ammunition left. I also have a .308 Winchester deer rifle that will be my sniper rifle. I have 250 rounds for that one. I have an absurd amount of .22 ammunition. If I remember right I put two buckets of a thousand target rounds, three buckets of a thousand hollow points, and several bricks of 500 assorted.

So I could do this stop and shoot two or three more times before I think I would have to refill. I am probably about twenty miles from Barnwell at this point. If I remember right there are a couple of pawn shops, a Wal-mart, and a hardware store I went to with my dad once that carry guns and would have ammunition. I decide to watch my mini horde in the mirror and plan to stop every five to ten miles to repeat. That would leave me with more than enough ammo to feel comfortable fighting in Barnwell if needed while I try to resupply. The rest of the afternoon was spent doing just that. I drove about ten miles the first time before I decide that the group following me is large enough for a repeat performance. I found an exit and repeated my stand. I fire two hundred rounds between the rifles and then move on. I drive only six more miles before I decide I have enough the next stop. I think I am drawing from the town of Barnwell now. It is not a big town, but even a town of 3,000 people if 25% turn into zombies, and 50% of those zombies survive and move around that is close to 400 zombies.

Since I don’t know the actual infection and survival rates it could be higher or lower, but the number I am using seems reasonable when compared to the rates of infection and survival I was hearing on the news before it went off the air. I made a very large tactical error on this stop. I start shooting just like before when I had a gun jam. No big deal, just clear the jam and continue. Then it happened again. I realize that I have put an absurd number of bullets through each of the rifles without cleaning them. They were not designed to be used this heavily without maintenance. I quickly threw everything back into my vehicle and left before the group could overwhelm me. I took the next exit and tried to use some backroads to get into Barnwell and lead the zombie horde following me in the wrong direction.

When I finally see a gas station I decide to take a few minutes and clean the guns and gas everything up. I pull up to the underground tanks and remove the covers with a crowbar. I then dig around and pull out my hand driven sump pump. Before I can start pumping I need to clear the area. I grab the shotgun and both my pistols and start towards the store. A few snacks to go along with the stop would not be a bad thing. I find two zombies inside stumbling around. A few .22 shots to the head region and those are taken care of. I fill several bags with sports drinks, jerky and pistachios nuts. I can be picky this early in the apocalypse. I carefully clear the bathroom and use it and then the stockroom. When I head back outside to place my loot in Betsy I see about five more zombies stumbling around.

I decide I need to practice my up close combat. I take my axe-bar and start running and swinging. Ten minutes later I have learned a couple of things. It is much harder to crack a skull then I thought. Next, is that it is better to handicap a zombie by breaking arms and legs so they can’t attack and then come back and deal with them rather than trying to take each one out with a monster swing at its noggin. I receive a couple of scrapes and bruises, but nothing life threatening or that would require a major first aid stop. First Aid. That sparks my thinking. I go back into the convenience store and clear out their over the counter medication and first aid supplies and move them to Betsy. A couple of cases of water join the new supplies and then it is time to clean the guns and pump gas.

My hand powered sump pump is just a glorified straw that sucks up gas from the holding tanks on a ten-foot plastic hose and transfers it. I fill Betsy up and make sure my two five gallon gas cans are topped off. I spend the next half hour thoroughly cleaning all of my weapons and studying a map of Barnwell I found in an older telephone book behind the counter of the convenience store. I feel confident that I can find both pawn shops and the local hardware store. The Wal-Mart is easy to find as it is off of the highway, but I am saving that as a last resort. Too many people will go there looking for supplies.

I cruise on over to the first pawn shop without trouble and park Betsy. I am about to get out, when I realize that the doors have been reinforced and barricaded and I can see movement on the inside. Not worth my trouble. I jump back in and take off at top speed. I hear a gunshot as I pull away, but I don’t hear it hit me or the car. Note to self, take one lap around the block and study the building before parking. Either that or park away from the building and make your way to it on foot.