Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Thirty-One

What's the most important tool of the zombie apocalypse?

Weapons? Duct tape? Tweezers? Matches?

That's actually kind of a trick question.

The answer is: the most important tool is the tool that you need.

That's Rule #20: Have what you'll need.

I realize you won't always have everything, but try really damn hard to. Especially on a run. Even if you're ninety-nine percent sure you won't need it, bring it, whatever it is. Because that one percent will always, always come back to bite you in the ass.

If we're going to be specific though... bolt cutters are pretty useful.

We never go on a run without them, because, again, it really sucks when you need something, but don't bring it with you.

Shane already had a pair, along with various other tools in the bed of his truck. 'Cause, you know, Marines are like Boy Scouts with guns. Always prepared.

Kyle and I waited, watching the streets while Shane worked on the chain at the door. Amazingly, all the noise I'd made when he'd almost been bitten only drew two other zombies our way, which I took care of since Shane was busy, and Kyle wasn't feeling too hot.

I heard the chain snap immediately after I took out the second zombie, machete crunching into the top of its head, and ran back to go in with the boys.

We got inside, the interior dim and quiet. Shane pulled out a flashlight—which is another really useful tool—and clicked it on, sweeping the beam of light around the waiting area, the counter and the shelves in the back.

Even from where we were, we could see that there were a lot of bottles still on the shelves.

Shane rapped the bolt cutters on the counter and we waited, but nothing came out.

I rolled my eyes when Shane hopped over the counter, and went around to the gate with Kyle right behind me. I was watching Kyle and my head snapped over when I heard Shane say, "Raleigh. Kyle. Stay still."

Both Kyle and I immediately froze because of what we saw.

Shane stood with his hands slightly raised, bag still slung over his shoulder, staring down the barrel of a gun.

This is what I meant about the hits.

Eventually, you just learn to roll with the punches.

But you never pull yours.

I'm pretty sure my heart completely quit. Just said, 'to hell with this'. First, I get the life scared out of me because of a stupid zombie, then I was sure I was going to watch Shane get shot. 

To be honest, I'm not sure my heart ever truly started up again.

I was surprised by how young he was. Probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, but I didn't care about that all that much. He was standing there with a gun in Shane's face. That's all that actually mattered.

It was only after a moment that I noticed the girl just behind him.

I jumped when Shane spoke, his voice low and calm. "Easy kid. I'm not gonna hurt you." He raised his hands a little more, holding them right in front of his chest.

The boy's hand shook slightly, but he didn't lower the gun. I was barely breathing, my fingers clutching at the sleeve of Kyle's jacket.

The girl said something quietly, in a language I thought might be Russian. Definitely Eastern European at least.