the supplies we need to save lives.”
Kerry put a hand on Jen’s shoulder, quieting her. “What my friend is saying is that we’re not here to steal from you. We would like to be friends with the people of the Haven. We would like to know that the people of the Haven would be willing to work with the people of the Island in order to further our common interests.”
“And, what would those interests be?” the older man asked. The words were so filled with distrust and anger that he literally spat them out. The cute one with the dark hair stood and walked next to the old man with the angry eyes.
“I think we can all agree that survival is the number one goal of everyone here.” Kerry found it kind of strange that her and this stranger, cute as he is, were doing most of the talking. Why wasn’t SSgt Brown doing the talking? Who is the leader of these people? She had thought it was Roy when they were on the roof, but now she wasn’t sure.
“Of course we are in it for survival,” she began. “But, it’s more than that. There is a greater good that we have to be concerned about. Right now the human race is on the verge of extinction. I’ve heard people say that the human race may be down to one percent of its former population.” She paused for the effect. She could see that some of the others were paying closer attention. She was getting through.
“We on the Island are not interested in simply surviving. We are trying to provide a safe place for humanity to begin to retake America, and ultimately the world.” Again she paused. She looked into each and every eye that would return her gaze.
“I would personally like to know that whenever I return to the mainland I know I have a safe place to eat a meal and lay my head. I would like to know that I not only have allies in the war on the undead, but I have friends.” She looked to the older man. “I pledge my friendship to you and the people of the Haven. From this day forward, you are welcome at my table.” She was conscious that she sounded like something out of Beowulf, but it seemed to be working.
Roy finally stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on the shoulder of the older man. “I believe this town has plenty of supplies for you and us.” He looked the other man in the eyes. His voice became lower, softer, somehow more threatening. “Do you really think we’re going to starve anytime soon?” To SSgt Brown, he nodded. “We at the Haven would be honored to have friends on the Island. Please,” he waved them into a store room. “Let’s break bread. All this diplomacy is making me hungry.”
For the next hour, the groups mingled. They told stories of how they had come to this place. They told stories of those they had lost. They told stories about the times before the fall. They laughed with each other, they cried, but mostly they bonded. From this point onwards, they would be friends.
Roy explained to SSgt Brown how they had taken care of the local zombie problem. It was actually quite brilliant. The zombies were lured by a car horn onto the ramp and into the pit made from the cars. They became trapped. Every so often, usually about every six hours, someone from the roof would spray gasoline or oil onto the crowd of zombies with a pump sprayer. One match and thirty minutes later, and the local zombie population were reduced to ashes.
They turn the car horn off at night, so that everyone can sleep, and to not attract too many undead during darkness. He reported that it had been so effective, that their raiding parties were able to go just about anywhere on this part of town unmolested. He explained that the group had rescued sixteen individuals during the last two weeks, and they still had enough food in the buildings to feed themselves for a month.
“You guys have a radio?” SSgt Brown asked.
“We have a NOAH weather radio.”
“How about
Kerry put a hand on Jen’s shoulder, quieting her. “What my friend is saying is that we’re not here to steal from you. We would like to be friends with the people of the Haven. We would like to know that the people of the Haven would be willing to work with the people of the Island in order to further our common interests.”
“And, what would those interests be?” the older man asked. The words were so filled with distrust and anger that he literally spat them out. The cute one with the dark hair stood and walked next to the old man with the angry eyes.
“I think we can all agree that survival is the number one goal of everyone here.” Kerry found it kind of strange that her and this stranger, cute as he is, were doing most of the talking. Why wasn’t SSgt Brown doing the talking? Who is the leader of these people? She had thought it was Roy when they were on the roof, but now she wasn’t sure.
“Of course we are in it for survival,” she began. “But, it’s more than that. There is a greater good that we have to be concerned about. Right now the human race is on the verge of extinction. I’ve heard people say that the human race may be down to one percent of its former population.” She paused for the effect. She could see that some of the others were paying closer attention. She was getting through.
“We on the Island are not interested in simply surviving. We are trying to provide a safe place for humanity to begin to retake America, and ultimately the world.” Again she paused. She looked into each and every eye that would return her gaze.
“I would personally like to know that whenever I return to the mainland I know I have a safe place to eat a meal and lay my head. I would like to know that I not only have allies in the war on the undead, but I have friends.” She looked to the older man. “I pledge my friendship to you and the people of the Haven. From this day forward, you are welcome at my table.” She was conscious that she sounded like something out of Beowulf, but it seemed to be working.
Roy finally stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on the shoulder of the older man. “I believe this town has plenty of supplies for you and us.” He looked the other man in the eyes. His voice became lower, softer, somehow more threatening. “Do you really think we’re going to starve anytime soon?” To SSgt Brown, he nodded. “We at the Haven would be honored to have friends on the Island. Please,” he waved them into a store room. “Let’s break bread. All this diplomacy is making me hungry.”
For the next hour, the groups mingled. They told stories of how they had come to this place. They told stories of those they had lost. They told stories about the times before the fall. They laughed with each other, they cried, but mostly they bonded. From this point onwards, they would be friends.
Roy explained to SSgt Brown how they had taken care of the local zombie problem. It was actually quite brilliant. The zombies were lured by a car horn onto the ramp and into the pit made from the cars. They became trapped. Every so often, usually about every six hours, someone from the roof would spray gasoline or oil onto the crowd of zombies with a pump sprayer. One match and thirty minutes later, and the local zombie population were reduced to ashes.
They turn the car horn off at night, so that everyone can sleep, and to not attract too many undead during darkness. He reported that it had been so effective, that their raiding parties were able to go just about anywhere on this part of town unmolested. He explained that the group had rescued sixteen individuals during the last two weeks, and they still had enough food in the buildings to feed themselves for a month.
“You guys have a radio?” SSgt Brown asked.
“We have a NOAH weather radio.”
“How about
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