Maybe sleeping in the tree house wasn't a good idea. It was a bad idea, actually. You ever seen a cat treed by a dog before? Well that was us this morning. We were the cats, the robber was the dog, and he was doing a whole lot of barking.
I started coming to around seven in the morning. Kat was shaking me back and forth trying to get me up. Then I started hearing the shouts. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and put an arm next to Kat, keeping her back as I leaned out of the door. A Native American man, pretty tall and muscular, was yelling up at us calling us assholes. Yeah, we're sleeping in a tree house minding our business, yet WE'RE the assholes.
I asked him what he wanted, although I already knew. He wanted us to come down and surrender all of our food, weapons, supplies; basically everything we had. He had a semi-automatic rifle, but I couldn't tell exactly what kind it was. He was pointing it at me saying there'd be no way he could miss at this range. I played the role of the scared victim holding out his hands going, "No, no! Don't shoot! I'll give you whatever you want! You can have it! Food, medicine, all of it! It's yours!" While talking down to THIS asshole, I was making a gun motion behind my back. Kat saw it and pulled the handgun out of her pack. I knew it only had two rounds left, but I only needed one. I was sure I could shoot this man in the head, but if his finger was on the trigger, most likely he'd be able to shoot me too.
Instead, I went inside and grabbed my pack, unzipped it all the way and headed to the door. I kept the gun behind my back and then I tossed the unzipped pack down to him, contents spilling like littered rain. He didn't know whether to cover his head, get out of the way or try to catch as much as he could, but I used that moment of distraction and indecisiveness. I swung the gun in front of me, put my left hand under the butt, aimed and fired. I was going for the head, but my quick draw needed work and I got him in the shoulder. It took him down like a wrestler jumping from the ropes. He still had the rifle in his hand and I raised my arm to aim again, this time the site clearly on his head, when he shouted at me not to shoot and threw the rifle away.
I'm glad he did. This meant I kept the last bullet. I gave the gun to Kat and told her to cover me as I climbed down the tree to this would-be robber. I walked over to where he threw the rifle, and it immediately felt light. Figured. There was no clip. This desperate man tried to rob us at gun point with no ammo! I walked over to him and kicked him in the head as he was trying to get up. I barked at this dog to stay down. A million thoughts were going through my head at that moment. I wanted to bash his brains in with the butt of the rifle. I wanted Kat to toss my machete down to me so I could slice his spinal cord out. I wanted to do something to the man, because honestly, I miss torturing people. I shouldn't be excited about that, but I was. I had to admit, I felt like a monster for wanting to do horrible, detestable things to this...I kicked him again and asked his name... Terry.
I asked him other questions. Was he with anyone? Did he have any other weapons? He said no to both. I asked him where he was from, where he was going, but during my interrogation, I didn't realize how dangerously close I was to Terry. Right in the middle of me asking a question, he shot up off the floor as if he was catapulted and rammed into me, with his bad shoulder of all things, and drove me straight into the tree. One of the ladder's rungs dug itself into my back and I yelled out in pain. We were right underneath the doorway Kat was standing in, and she had no clear shot. All she could see were our legs kicking around as one of us struggled to get on top of the other.
He was immensely powerful, finally pinning me down as he straddled me. He pulled his good arm back to punch me, but I swung my head to the side to dodge his blow and he pounded nothing but grass. He tried again with his bad shoulder, instantly regretting that decision as his punch lost so much power, it didn't even make its destination. I used that opportunity and grabbed his arm, wrenching him back down where we were face to face. I then dug my finger in his freshly wounded shoulder where he lept off me and yelled out in pain. He quickly got a boot into my side, driving out all the air, and he rose his leg up to stomp me when something hooked his calf and pulled him back where he fell flat on his face.
It was Kat. During the fight, I didn't even see her come down the ladder. She had the climbing hammer dug into his leg and she was pulling him away from me. He twisted around and managed to kick free and reached out to grab Kat's leg, and she swung down on him with the hammer again, piercing his hand and yanking the climber's tool so hard, it tore free. Terry screamed out yet again, but then I got up and ran to him as Kat got ready to swing once more. I grabbed him in a choke hold, putting my hand over his mouth to muffle his screaming. I had no idea how to break a neck, even if I had the strength for it, but I wanted to at this moment to silence him. It just occurred to me that the zombie population in this area is high, all this commotion might be attracting them. Kat had the hammer raised looking at me, waiting for me to tell her what to do. She made a motion to hack at his head, and I nodded. With one strong overhead swing, Kat sent the hammer's deadly point into his crown just inches from my arm. I felt the body go slack, so I let it go and it dropped to the ground.
Anger began to build up inside me. This stranger was going to rob us of our supplies, take the things we rightfully earned, and run off with. I have no tolerance for thieves. Even in an apocalypse, it doesn't make thievery right. All thieves deserve to die. I needed to channel this rage, get this aggression out, so I held my hand out to Kat and waved for the hammer. She gave it to me by the handle, and I went to work on Terry the Thief. I don't know how many times I hit him with the hammer. I seemed to slip out of the conscious awareness of time. It was me, the hammer and Terry. Nothing else existed. It was his blood rising up from his body as I rose the metal claw from his torso and it was the metal claw going right back in. The hammer took on a life of its own and seemed to be the one driving me to hack away, not me driving it. The anger only intensified. I saw the man's face who shot my Johanna superimposed on Terry and I let the hammer fly randomly, like I was tenderizing a giant steak.
Kat had to stop me at that point. I was beginning to scream myself, and she ran around behind and tugged me off him. I was covered in his blood, and threw the hammer at him for one last lick. Kat went to retrieve it when we heard growls and snarls of the impending horde. Hungry monsters were coming-so we quickly climbed back up to the tree house and put on our zombie leather. We packed up and headed to the door when there they were. Scores upon of scores of leathers right underneath us. Some were still climbing over the fence to get into the backyard, hurrying to join the fray that descended upon Terry's body. It was like a pack of jackals, all of them tearing away at the flesh and scarfing it down.
They kept coming, kept spilling over the fence, filling the backyard, hoping to get a scrap of food. 50, 60, maybe even 70. I couldn't even see Terry's corpse anymore. I looked down, and I saw several staring up at me, sniffing the air wildly, picking up on the scent of his blood on me, but then sniffing the blood of our zombie leather and then disregarded us and waited eagerly in line hoping to get at least tiny bit of flesh.
And they stayed there. The entire day, they stayed there like bums. Undead, stinking. rotten bums. We were treed. This time, it wasn't by just a dog. It was by a pack of dogs. Ugly, stupid, damn dogs. Kat said why don't we just climb down and move past them; we had the suits. Something told me that it wouldn't work. For us to get by them, we had to be extremely close to them, closer than we ever were. We would have to push past them, and I was afraid of triggering a reaction in one of them that would lead the entire horde in this yard to jump on us. As much as I didn't want to, I suggested to Kat we stay in the tree house and wait it out.
It's just so bizarre to see so many leathers at once doing nothing. They usually fan out looking for food or to infect new victims. Draggers are the ones that are supposed to congregate. Leathers are supposed to be the seekers. Their behavior keeps changing, and I don't like it. We're going to sleep here again tonight, and if they're still there in the morning, we're just going to have to figure something out.
Until tomorrow.
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