Free Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation by Joshua Jared Scott Page A

I have to admit that doing so is not really
practical. The tenth man is a machine gunner with the tripod and belts of
ammunition divvied up between the others. It was far too much weight for one
individual to carry on his own, and the squadmates never seemed to complain if
it meant more bullets on hand should the need arise.
    The
leadership squad consisted of myself with Mary as my assistant. I’ll pause here
and state that the splitting of people in romantic relationships did not extend
to other familial connections. There were simply too many related by blood or
marriage to effectively separate them. Lizzy was second in command, and we also
have Tara and Dale, Carlson in the role of demolitions expert, and Xavier as a
pilot. We were taking a renovated news chopper for him to fly, keeping our military
craft out of sight for the time being. It had been painted a rather dull shade
of green and was to be used primarily for recovering the wounded and general
scouting.
    Several
old friends were present among the militia squads. These included Harvey, who
had fought beside the twins when the zombie apocalypse first began. He was
leading second squad. Terrance was going, along with Tim Myers. Tim was a few
months older than Mary, having just turned seventeen. Upon first meeting two
years ago, Tim promptly and hopelessly fell in love with my adopted daughter.
That infatuation had resulted in a great deal of annoyance and frustration on
Mary’s part, but things calmed down after a few months. I suspect Tim still holds
out hope for a relationship, but Mary has zero interest.
     
    *
* *
     
    “Keep
digging,” ordered Mary. “Faster. Faster. Move those shovels. First to reach six
feet gets to make the next hop aboard Xavier’s helicopter. Last gets made fun
of.”
    This was
our second stop on the journey west, the first being roughly a third of the way
between the Black Hills and Yellowstone. There, we had stashed fuel in several
spots around an agricultural airstrip which was both out of the way and hard to
find. It would serve as one of our emergency stopovers.
    The
current location was the same strip in Montana where Xavier and Kimberly frequently
met. Shortly after fleeing to the Black Hills, we instituted a policy where a
select number of pilots would land in a far off location in order to exchange
news or supplies. This had remained the case even after the raiders began to
disperse, and while the satellite connection the military since provided
eliminated the need to carry reports by hand, there was still the occasional
swap of people or materials.
    “Mary,”
I cautioned, “don’t play the taskmaster.”
    “They
like it when I order them around,” she protested. “That’s because I’m adorable,
and they would do anything just to have me smile.”
    “Keep
dreaming,” muttered Brenda.
    “You
would if you were gay.”
    The
older woman flung a shovelful of dirt at the teenager who, totally out of
character, did not succeed in dodging.
    “I’m not
gay.”
    “Well,
duh. But you think I’m adorable anyway.”
    An
interesting thing about our society was the breakdown of generations. By this I
mean that the various age groups, with the exception of the very young and very
old, were generally treated the same, holding the same positions, having the
same responsibilities, working together constantly. An aspect of this was the
transfer of terminology. Just about everyone spoke the same. There was no
longer a teenage slang, and the kids had long ago stopped giggling at the
phrases their elders used, having adopted quite a few themselves. Basically,
everyone spoke the same way. I think I’m digressing, so back to the story.
    “If you
were,” continued Mary, “Lizzy would be all over you.”
    Brenda
shot her a menacing look which didn’t deter Mary in the least.
    “You are
cute, though not as cute as me which just isn’t possible, and Lizzy does like
cute girls.”
    I put my
hand on the center of Mary’s back and