Page 8 of My Apocalypse Mountain Man
"It's working," I say. "They're following the sound."
"That's maybe twenty. Where are the rest?"
As if in answer, a moan carries on the wind. Then another. And another. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I realize the sound is coming from all around us.
"They split up," Kole says grimly. "The storm scattered them."
"So instead of one herd of two hundred—"
"We've got multiple smaller groups coming from different directions."
The tactical situation just went from bad to catastrophic. Our speaker system can maybe divert one group, but multiple groups from different angles?
"We need a new plan," I say.
"We need to fort up. Now."
We spend the next hour in focused preparation. Kole has pre-cut boards that we nail over the remaining exposed windows. We fill containers with water in case we're trapped for days.Ammunition gets distributed to strategic positions throughout the cabin.
"You've done this before," I observe, noting how efficiently everything is organized.
"Three times. Smaller groups, but the principle's the same."
"What happened?"
"I survived."
"Alone?"
"Always alone." He pauses in his work. "Until now."
There's weight in those words that makes my chest tight. This man has survived three years of hell by himself, and now he's trusting me to watch his back.
"I won't let you down," I tell him.
"I know."
The simple confidence in his voice means more than it should.
The first zombies appear at the tree line just after noon. Five of them, struggling through the snow but persistent. Kole takes them out with his rifle from the window, clean headshots that speak to years of practice.
"Group from the east," I report from my position. "Maybe twelve."
"Can you handle it?"
"On it."
My rifle kicks against my shoulder, and the lead zombie drops. Then the second. By the time I've taken down the fourth, Kole's at my side, adding his fire to mine.
"Good shooting," he says when the last one falls.
"I had good backup."
"I didn't do anything."
"Your presence. It steadied me."
He looks at me with an expression I can't quite read. Before either of us can say more, moaning from the north draws our attention.
