17. No Way Around
Staying Human
Morning came damp and misty after the night’s rain. The group broke camp at Superior Berries with quick leftovers of beans and fresh blueberries. Jack brewed a strong pot of coffee. The rich aroma cut through the humid Georgia air as everyone ate.
“Stay sharp today,” Jack said. “Grok’s hive warnings are no joke. Eyes open and weapons hot.”
They rolled out following the plan. Side roads ran alongside US 441 as much as possible. Grok guided them onto Bypass Road to skirt Homerville and stay clear of larger built-up areas. Progress was slower than Jack liked, but safer. Tall pines lined the roads. The air hung thick and warm with the scent of wet earth and resin. Abandoned farms and the occasional column of distant smoke reminded them the world was still burning.
Grok kept up a steady stream of updates. “Increased signs of coordinated movement in this sector. Recommend extreme caution at all choke points, especially bridges.”
The drone flew ahead as they approached a small river crossing north of Homerville. Its feed showed trouble. Twelve to fifteen Walkers waited in deliberate positions. Some hid in the tree line. Others blocked the bridge itself. A clear leader stood at the center directing the pack.
Jack brought the convoy to a stop well short of the bridge. He conferred quickly with Grok.
“Can we get around it?” Jack asked.
“Negative,” Grok replied. “The river cannot be forded safely here. The bridge is the only viable crossing.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “Then we hit them first. Deliberate assault. As soon as we open up with rifles and shotguns they’ll come at us hard.”
“Confirmed,” Grok said. “I will provide real-time spotting.”
Jack laid out the plan fast. “Vehicles in defensive position. Raych and Tom on overwatch. Sarah and Mikey support fire. I’m on point. We do this together.”
The fight started with the first disciplined volley. Rifles cracked. Shotguns boomed. Walkers dropped, but the rest reacted fast. They used cover. They tried to flank. The leader drove them forward in coordinated waves.
“Flank right!” Grok called out.
Raych and Tom shifted fire. Jack poured rounds into the advancing pack. The air filled with the sharp smell of gunpowder and the metallic ring of brass on the ground.
Then two Walkers broke through the perimeter. They came straight at the F-150. Sarah and Mikey met them with their shotguns. The blasts were deafening at close range. Sarah dropped one clean. Mikey, voice tight but steady, took the second. His first confirmed kill under real pressure. The Walker crumpled just yards from the truck.
“Nice shot, kid!” Sarah called.
The fight ended as quickly as it had intensified. The last of the Walkers fell under the family’s coordinated fire. Silence returned except for the ringing in their ears and the distant rush of the river.
Jack moved fast. “Check for injuries. Mikey, Sarah, good work on those two.”
No one was hurt. They cleared the bridge and pushed the vehicles across. Grok spoke once they were on the far side.
“Analysis complete. The hive is actively adapting. They set an ambush. They attempted flanking maneuvers. They are learning to hunt organized groups.”
Jack wiped sweat from his brow. “Then we keep learning faster. Load up. We’re still heading for Hazelhurst.”
The convoy rolled onward. The humid air felt heavier now. The family stayed tight. Rifles stayed ready. Coffee mugs sat in cup holders, long gone cold.
They had won the fight. But everyone understood the truth. The Walkers were getting smarter every day.
And the road to Hazelhurst suddenly felt a lot longer.
Bougie Apocalypse
A serialized military-flavored post-apocalyptic pulp story about heirloom beans, De Buyer carbon steel skull-crackers, good coffee, and refusing to let the apocalypse win.
#BougieApocalypse #StayingHuman
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