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Dad’s, over to our brush pile.  I doused the whole thing with gasoline and lit it up.  I sobbed as it burned but it was the only thing to do.

Chapter Three:  Forting Up
    After awhile things slowed down a bit.  We set people up in pairs as lookouts.  I put Sean and Mom on the quieter west side of the house, up in the attic.  From that side, we could see over towards Mom and Dad’s house, about fifty yards away and separated from ours by woods and scrub.  Everything looked quiet over there.
    Bobbie and Tyler took the attic window that looked out over the garage and the east side of the house.  I had given Tyler our old bolt action .22.  It was a single shot, but they were really lookouts and were told not to shoot unless they needed to get our attention.  Looking east, there was the driveway, a lawn, and a strip of woods.  The woods ran about a half mile out to Chestnut Street, a country road that led to town, a couple of miles away.  Nothing was moving on that side.
    I put Mike back in charge of the front of the house with the .30 -.30.  He had about thirty rounds with him, which I figured would be enough.  We had a few more boxes in the gun safe.
    I left Cody with him.  Cody had a .410 over/under loaded with birdshot.  I spent a few minutes showing him how it worked and told him that he’d have to aim carefully and shoot only if he was within ten feet of a zombie.  I showed him a few examples of what ten feet looked like. 
    We only had about twelve rounds for the .410.  It made me wonder why we’d chosen to build such a random collection of firearms rather than a few types with standard calibers.  I reminded myself that all of the guns, except for the handguns, were for recreational purposes and had been enjoyed and used over the years and bought or traded for bit by bit.  They’d have to do.  We were lucky to have them.
    Bill and Mary volunteered to watch the back of the house, to the south.  Bill had the 12 gauge.  I gave Mary my .22 Browning pistol, which we used for plinking.   Bill told me that he would not let anything get the kids “no matter what.”  Mary was a tough old bird, too, and she was determined to do her part.  I was surprised how well everyone seemed to adjust.  There was just no time to think.  I suggested to Bill that he not shoot outside of ten yards, and that Mary not shoot outside of five yards.  They agreed.
    Kate agreed to move around and check each group from time to time. When it was quiet, we could all hear one another and we would certainly hear any shots, but we wanted to keep in touch as best we could.  Kate was sort of a general reinforcement and communications system.  By then, I had loaded her up with the Sig 9 mil and she still had her 20 gauge.
    The only weapons left in the gun safe were my brother’s .300 Winchester Magnum and an old M-14.  I was storing Jim’s gun for him because I had the best gun safe.  Seeing his gun made me wonder how he was doing.  He lived about fifteen miles away with his wife and two kids.  I needed to check on them but there was nothing I could do.  Jim had one box of 20 rounds for the .300 mag and I decided to save them for him if I could.  The M-14 was empty; I was just watching it for a client who took his third DUI and ended up in county for 90 days.  I wished I’d stocked up on some Nato 7.62s for it, but "c’est la vie." 
    Jim, his wife Debbie, and his three kids lived about fifteen miles away.  Jenny was divorced.  She and her two kids lived about fifteen miles away in the other direction.  I decided to check on both of them as soon as I had the chance.
    I took the opportunity to secure the basement and garage, since those areas were hardest to guard.  I had a decent wood shop and a supply of boards so I completely boarded up the basement windows from the inside, fastening the boards with three inch wood screws.  Amazingly, the kids had not been at my cordless drill recently and it went quickly.