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going there?  For all we know, the place is crawling with zombies.  We're better off here,” Cindy said.
                  “Honey, no matter what, we need to get out of here.  There's too many people in St. Charles that translates to more zombies.  Eventually, either they're going to get in here or somebody's going to break down these doors trying to get in.”
                  “Besides that, the power has to go out soon.  We've been lucky so far.  The phones went down right away and the electricity will be next.  When that happens, it won't be too pleasant in here.  It wouldn't be so bad now with the weather being nice but in a few months winter is going to start.  We can't even build a fire in here.”  I was trying to get Cindy to understand that no matter what happens, we are leaving.
                  “Hey, let's quit arguing about this.  We can leave at any time.  Everything's loaded and we can bug out at a moment's notice.”  Al said.  “I've got an idea on how we can shoot some zombies and not draw any attention to ourselves.  We could all use the target practice.  Everybody's in.  Go up on the roof. I'll be right there.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 9
                  It took about twenty minutes and four trips for Al to get everything set up. He brought up twenty-four empty two liter soda bottles, a case of ammunition, a roll of duct tape, and four rifles.
                  “These are Bushmaster AR 15s. Each rifle has a thirty round magazine. There's two for each gun. The empty soda bottles make good silencers and the duct tape holds the bottle to the barrel of the rifle. It's kind of hard to aim with the bottle on the rifle but with a little practice you'll get the hang of it. Gina and Cindy, you girls go first.”
                  Al got everything set up.  I was designated re-loader and Al would work the silencers.  Each soda bottle was only good for two or three shots so he'd have to keep switching them out.  I know it was wrong but it was kind of fun.  Those were zombies down there but at one time they were people just like us.  Turns out, Cindy was a pretty good shot.  She and Al went to the shooting range often so she knew what she was doing.  The girls had a system.  They would aim for the center of the chest and work their way up.  Most often, by the time the soda bottle lost it's effectiveness, they'd achieved a head shot.  They went through the twenty-four soda bottles and seventeen zombies were dead.  Gina killed eight and Cindy had nine.
                  I went down to get more soda bottles while Al finished reloading.  I decided we needed a few bottles of wine so I grabbed a corkscrew and two bottles of White Zinfandel before heading back up.  We drank wine and shot zombies.  I couldn't help but think how screwed up life had become.  This was some way to spend the evening—shooting dead people for fun.  At least none of the ones we shot would ever hurt anyone else.  Worst was how badly Al kicked my ass.  We had twelve soda bottles each.  Al had twelve kills on thirteen shots and I had seven kills on nineteen shots.  We were lucky to have him with us.  The man could definitely shoot.
                  The only bad part about the whole thing was that we were drawing more zombies than we were killing.  When we started, there were at least thirty zombies down on the lot.  When we finished, there were over fifty.  The guns weren't loud.  It was Al and me.  Two men drinking and shooting would eventually get loud. 
                  After we'd finished shooting, Gina and I sat talking about what was next for us.  We were hoping her dad and Kym would come with us after we got to Boonville.  Maybe the six of us could find a secluded house somewhere off the beaten path.  We wanted a