Establish a Community

We found a small house on the edge of town that had avoided serious damage during The Panic. The doors are solid and the roof is intact — you can’t ask for much more. It’s overrun with Z, but they’ve gone dormant. If we can take them out quickly before too many wake up, we can clear the area and settle into our new home.

On the morning we planned to make our move, we did a final recon of the area and refined our attack plan. Then the universe threw us a curveball: a gangly teenage boy showed up, trying to sneak into the same house. After watching him for a few minutes, it was clear he was more likely to stir up Z than sneak past them — he just moved all wrong. Jan, William, and I looked at each other, sighed, threw our well-laid plan in the dumpster, and ran in to save the boy. I held out hope that we could still claim our new home, too.

By unspoken agreement, Jan and William went around the northern edge of the house to get the kid and I circled around the back of the house on the west side to start picking off Z.

Our assault started well. Jan took out a couple of Z as she and William made their way to the kid. Then Jan took out a couple more as she covered William while he talked the kid into moving away from the action. Meanwhile, I took out a couple of Z as I snuck through the backyard, including a shot through an open window that I’m quite proud of.

That was the end of our good fortune, though. Jan missed a couple of shots on zombies that wandered toward the house, and they started waking up other zombies. Then a zombie crawled out from the shrubs by the southwestern corner of the house as I passed by, right in the middle of a cluster of dormant Z, waking them all up. Suddenly I was facing a horde and my backup was pinned down on the other side of the house with their own problems.

I started to run, giving up clearing Z from the house. At least we had saved the kid. I stole one last glance back at the horde, just silhouettes framed by the rising sun. If I were a poetic type, I’d have thought it made an apt metaphor. Instead, I thought “What is that crazy man doing?”

William came charging around the southeastern corner of the house into the back of the horde. He was yelling like a madman, a revolver in each hand, shooting Z dead left and right. One, two, three, four dropped under the barrage of lead from William’s two six-shooters. I was so dumbstruck that I stopped running. Our mild-mannered hospital administrator is an action movie hero? When I realized this is really happening, I turned back toward the horde and began loosing arrows into the remaining Z. Jan was also running into the fray to give William backup, but the look on her face told me that she was awestruck, too.

In very short order, we cleared away the remaining Z and gathered on the porch. Jan and I stared wide-eyed at William, who looked sheepish and mumbled “I really wanted to sleep on a good bed tonight”. Jan and I fell over ourselves laughing. Post-adrenaline giddiness. Then the kid wandered over and asked what was so funny, which started another round of laughing fits from me and Jan.

That afternoon, we cooked lunch over a campfire. For once, William was quiet. The kid (whose name is Kenny, but whom I will keep calling “the kid” until he earns better) asked me “Have you ever seen anything like before?” My brain was still preoccupied with processing that scene (and the contents of the house’s liquor cabinet), so I fell back on the completing the movie quote: “Hell, I ain’t never even heard of anything like that.” I didn’t think anyone caught the reference (philistines!), but the kid surprised me. After a moment, he said “Yeah, like a gunslinger in a Western.” I was so pleased to have my in-joke land that I raised my glass and shouted “To our very own Doc Holiday!” William absolutely hated that, so naturally the name stuck.

The next day, we took inventory of what was in and around the house. It was well-stocked, but I told Holiday (really, the name stuck) I was worried that we didn’t have enough food for all mouths we had to feed. I offered to go scavenging, but Doc convinced me that we need to start thinking long-term and invest in being able to make our own food. He recommended we ration what we have and all work on improving the house. Well, he phrased it as a recommendation looking for my approval, but I can admit that this is really Holiday’s show now. He’s the one with the vision and the plan, and somehow I’m just a supporting character in my own story. You have to be honest about those things. Especially about yourself.

And I must say: after spending a few nights in our new home, I understand Doc a little better, too. It is nice to sleep on a good bed.