Read Online Shamblers: the zombie apocalypse by Andrew Cormier - Free Book Online

armed or attempted a firefight in front of the store: that sniper would have cut us down easily. Several of us could have been dead before anyone even realized where the shots were coming from.
    In addition to the guards, Mr. Yates also sent out regular scavengers. His people had long since pillaged the resources of Payne’s Creek. They now ventured into neighboring towns. Instead of sending out one person (as we had done,) they had enough survivors to send groups of three. This helped people to stay alive longer, and it also allowed the groups to travel further. The rule for scavenging was simple: never come back empty handed. Mr. Yates didn’t care if it took scavenging parties a week to complete their mission, so long as the team returned with useful items. If they never returned, well, we all accepted that as a possible outcome.
    The rest of the townsfolk, including myself and my friends, mostly farmed or found useful ways to help out. We pretty much worked in the fields all day. It was difficult, tough work, but it provided food. The crops were our most valuable commodity, more precious even than ammo. If anyone was caught stealing food, the penalty was death. On day three, one of the guys who’d come in with our original group was caught putting some pea-pods in his pocket.
    The Spaniard with the sombrero noticed and announced the theft. After a brief argument and scuffle, my associate was subdued. He was hauled into the middle of the street by the Spaniard and the fat ass (I learned his name was Clod). Mr. Yates then unceremoniously shot him in the back of his head, and he made sure to double-tap the body.
    The Preacher and I were forced to bury him at the edge of town because he had arrived with us. It was meant to be a moral lesson. 
    Unlike my original camp, Mr. Yates didn’t believe in rotating duties. He was in charge, and that was all there was to it. Everyone else was assigned a duty as he saw fit. He alone chose what each person’s task was each day. He claimed that everyone’s job was based on their abilities.
    Oddly enough, I noticed that he played favorites with his “elite” group. As an example, the large, black Rambo-looking guy (whose name I learned was Sha’Quizz) almost always served as a guard. He had prior military experience and, more importantly, he was a great shot. Furthermore, he had grown up in Oakland. I figured both qualifications made him suitable for surviving the apocalypse: if he could make it in Oakland, he could make it anywhere.
    I was usually just a farmhand alongside Marcus, The Preacher, and a few others. Mr. Yates never changed our duties because he said we were performing them sufficiently. This was fine by me. We talked and joked as we worked. Life developed the feeling of normalcy again.
    Eventually, w e earned a measure of trust from Mr. Yates. As a reward, we received all of our confiscated items back (except for my hatchet because I learned that someone else had broke it while splitting wood).
    I could have been annoyed by this because I was always used to having a weapon. However, Payne’s Creek was relatively safe, all things considered. The guards were rotated in shifts so they never got too tired, and there were a good number of guns and munitions to go around in the event of a severe threat. Our sleeping conditions were also among the best I had seen since the start of the infection.
    At night, we all went up a ladder to the second floor of the old town hall. We pulled the ladder up behind us once the last person was accounted for. Everyone was then forced to strip naked so we could be inspected for bites (in case there was an effort to hide an incident). No one objected to this safety measure.
    Once this procedure was completed, we were then cordoned off in different rooms. I shared my room with my original group (minus one), and usually shared my mattress with Becky. It was only a twin, and was quite cramped, but it was still a mattress and I was happy to