"Heh,"
Matthew chuckled slightly.
"Safe Zone... I suppose you could say that."
They drove past an tiny farm on the right side of the road, a large silo sitting next to the barn. On the left side was a small valley of sorts full of grass or mud, a few cows laying around, eaten by the infected. The cows not present had been slaughtered and eaten by the survivors or had simply escaped.
They drove onwards, past a larger valley with a large pond at the bottom then a large, one story, stone structure. The Muddy Pond Sorghum Mill.
Before the infection, the minnonite residents of Muddy Pond and their friends and family had worked there turning harvested Sorghum into various different treats, everything from cookies to lolipops to simple Molasses.
It attracted plenty of tourists which helped with business for the tiny shop right across the road, The Muddy Pond Mercantile, situated on a small farm.
This small area was filled with scores of dead zombies, slain by the elderly minnonite, Mister Guenther and his family members. They were still holed up inside and Matthew's family had been contacting them, offering help but Mister Guenther assured they would be fine for now. They had some cows and crops they were living off of and his sons and grandsons were all excellent shots.
Matthew knew from experience as he'd grown up with several of them.
Driving past the small farm they came to another long stretch of road, flanked on the left by a tiny white church, pockmarked with a few bullet holes and several dead zombies laying around, a couple live ones shambling about.
On the right was a massive field used to grow either corn or sorghum. Turning right onto Armstrong Lane, they drove past the field on the old gravel road, kicking up a bit of dust behind them. A few zombies wandered aimlessly through the trees, moaning and groaning.
He slowed down when they finally passed an old trailer on the side of the road, a blonde boy blowing away zombies with a shotgun.
Matthew waved and the young man waved back, smiling slightly.
Alex, one of his childhood friends.
The deeper into Armstrong lane they got, the thicker the trees all became.
Finally they reached a small metal gate at the entrance to a small gravel driveway off to the side.
On the left was another gargantuan field, several horses running about and eating quietly, their owner a National Guardswoman, waiting on the porch with a pistol and a huge dog.
Matthew stopped at the metal gate, barbed wire wrapped around the top.
He produced a small key from his pocket and unlocked the gate's padlock, driving through then closing and relocking the gate behind him.
After a drive down the half mile long driveway, they finally reached the Shelton Family Home. A small field sat on the left, fenced in with a pair of small sheds in it, inhabited by some cows they'd obtained from a recently deceased neighbor. On the right was a large grassy field, the entire area surrounded by trees.
Proceeding further the driveway split into two paths, both of them linked together in a large circle.
Finally pulling into the empty space outside the house, he killed the engine and climbed out, stretching a bit.
There was a white, Dodge Ram pickup truck and white Toyota Highlander SUV in the two other parking spaces.
The house itself was a fairly large, two story cabin, long pieces of sheet metal recently drilled into the wall over all the windows.
Matthew led the way inside, his Duffle bag in one hand and rifle in the other.
He held the back door for his three companions like a proper gentleman and stepped into the small pantry, shelves lined with canned foods, pasta and beans, small cabinets crammed to the gills with spam and other canned goods. The first to greet them was his father, Hugh. He was incredibly tanned and stood 6'3, his white hair thinning a bit but still wavy like it had been in his youth. The 70 year old man smiled broadly, pleased his son had been so successful and was still alive.
His brother was almost totally opposite. He was shorter than Matthew despite being several years older, and had black hair in a buzz cut. He was chubby too, obviously overweight but subtly muscled as well. He wore a black baseball cap that read "Corrections" in white across the front. Jeff, was a licensed practical nurse and corrections officer from the local jail. Despite his friendly demeanor he was also arguably the best trained killer among them. He was fairly skilled at Jiu Jitsu and other mixed martial arts, and a large folding knife was clipped to his pocket, a gun on his hip on one side, a pair of handcuffs on the back of his belt and an Asp Collapsible Police Baton and can of pepper spray in a pouch on the left side. The piece of his little equipment belt that stood out the most was the AKM (AK-47 but newer) slung over his back.
"Elizabeth, Haley, Nicki, this is my dad Hugh, and my brother Jeff."
Matthew introduced them.
Jeff smiled pleasantly as did his father, both extending their hands.
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