Free Survive by Todd Sprague Page A

down, found the safety button and pressed it. He pointed the thick barrel at the Zed, almost close enough to touch, and fired.
    The concussive force of the blast knocked Roy completely off his feet. He hit the bottom of the truck bed at exactly the same time the newly-headless Zed hit the pavement.
    Roger offered his hand to Roy. Roy accepted the hand and let himself be pulled back to his feet. He grinned as Roger slapped him on the back, laughing. “Nice shot!”
    John continued scanning the area as they pulled past the overturned car. He smiled in satisfaction as he thought their chances were looking up.
    They passed more wrecked cars on the road. Most were off the pavement, in the ditch, or in the tree line, but they had to use Morgan’s truck to push two cars off the road. On those occasions, the group would spread out, each facing a direction with their weapons while Morgan pushed the car out of the way. Then they would all mount up again and continue on their way. They saw no one else, alive or dead, on the road.
    They finally pulled into Dan Bender’s driveway. The Benders lived in a two story home with a large workshop off to one side, and a garage off to the other side. A big sign with the words GUN SHOP hung over the store’s door. Criss-crossed two by fours were nailed over every door and window in sight. Morgan stopped the truck right in front of the workshop and killed the engine. Silence, broken only by the pinging of the engine as it cooled, reigned.
    John motioned to Roger. “Cover me.” He jumped out of the truck, his MP5 held at shoulder level, pointed in front of him. He walked to the door and listened. As he reached for the first two by four nailed to the door, he stopped. He walked quickly back to the truck, to the passenger side, where his father stood behind the truck door.
    “What’s wrong with this picture?” John asked Harold.
    Harold looked at the house for a few moments before it dawned on him. “The boards are nailed on from the outside!”
    “Yeah, someone wanted to keep something inside.” Just then they heard movement inside the house. From a gap in the boards, they could see motion behind one of the windows. A small hand appeared on the glass. The hand moved, but a bloody hand print remained on the glass.
    Roger and Roy jumped out of the truck and fanned out to either side. John walked back towards the shop entrance and began prying the boards off the entrance one at a time.
    “John, you better come see this,” Roy called out from around the corner of the house.
    John and Harold both jogged over to Roy. On the ground in front of him lay Dan Bender. A bottle of whiskey lay on the ground, open and empty. A photo album lay open in front of him, pictures of his wife, Moira and daughter Emily, on pages covered in blood. Dan’s right hand was gripped tightly around a .357 magnum revolver, and the splatter of blood and brain matter all over the side of the house told the rest of the story.
    Harold bent down and pulled one of Dan’s sleeves up showing John a blood soaked bandage.
    “Must have been bit by one of his kin,” Harold said. He pried the gun from Dan’s cold, dead hand. “He did the right thing.” He put the pistol in his waist band and stood up. “Let’s get this over with.”
    They walked back to the shop and finished removing the boards. John opened the door with Roger right behind him. The inside was dark, but John quickly found the light switch and flipped it on. Bright overhead lights revealed racks of rifles and display cases with pistols and accessories. John and Roger spread out in the little shop, heading for the back. The door in the back was not barricaded at all, and the men had the same thought.
    Roger walked up to the door and trained his rifle on it. He nodded to John, indicating he would watch it.
    John began selecting rifles, AR 15s, AK 47s, an Israeli Galil, a couple of scoped bolt action .308s, two FN FALs, and several shotguns. He carried them out