With my gun pointed at the floor and out in my hands, Farmer David, Dad, and I all traversed the woods with complete caution. Over the past six months we've spent at the school, we've identified several types of zombies that walk the world now. It's not very complicated, but it's interesting to see how they have adapted over time.
As we call them, "Sleepers" is a term we use to clarify when zombies are around they lie dormant until it is necessary to use their energy again. It went over my head a long time ago, but one of the reasons that the zombies slept at our doorstep is that they were all Sleepers. Connie and Dad were both surprised by this because in the zombie show they commonly refer to, zombies eventually run out of energy and decay because of how much they move daily, meaning we would eventually outlive them. That isn't the case anymore, not with Sleepers.
The next major zombie type is the "Intellects", which largely covers all zombies who can climb, create ramps for the others around them, and use tools as we can. No zombie can shoot a gun because their muscles aren't fine enough, but their muscles lock when people die, meaning that they can sometimes carry hammers, blades, and other dangerous weapons. Intellects are the ones we watch out for the most, considering they aren't brainless.
After Intellects, we've observed one that could be defined as the "Big Strong Zombie", for lack of a better term. Big Strong Zombies are very tall and muscular, probably being able to rip a door off of its hinges if they wanted to. The worst part about these Big Zombies is that they make a lot of noise, and when that noise is made, it attracts plenty more toward them. Like a siren, they just follow through and lead the charge.
Next up, there are "Runners", who are very obvious to predict. Runners aren't very fast, probably the speed of a young child who just learned how to walk, but they're faster than the regular ones. The various types of zombies are hard to tell apart, but most women and children we've observed seem to be Runners. I studied them when I was on guard with Korin through most of the days in the early months.
And last, but not least, Attackers. Attackers are zombies that have had their bones crushed by something odd, maybe the victim of the ramps the Intellects create, and they poke out of their arms. They're like swords on them, and unlike the Intellects who sometimes have tools, they know what they have and use it. The bones are dull on the edges but sharp on the point, and they're commonly used for stabbing by them. I don't know how they figured it out, and why it's so widespread, but we avoid Attackers more than the Big Zombies, which says a lot about their danger level.
"Any signs of Intellects or Big Zombies?" Dad asked. He was further down the slope, walking parallel to the level part of the slope with Farmer David and me. He looked past the creek to the mirror slope, and then further down the line.
"Nothing, not even dragging feet. No Big Zombies for sure, but the Intellects could be hiding. Actually, do they do that?" Farmer David asked him.
"No, not for the most part. Intellects are just smart and like to show it, so we have nothing to be considered about," Dad explained. He raised his gun up as he turned the sharp corner the creek took. It was like an intersection, where the drain from the neighborhood came in and pushed the creek the correct way it had always taken.
In that drain pump, a zombie turned his head slowly toward Dad and started making his way over.
"I got it, cover me please," Dad told Farmer David and me. We both listened, and I rose my gun, making sure the barrel was pointed away from Dad in case the worst happened.
Dad pulled out his knife and sunk it into the side of the zombie's skull. It was stupid in my eyes, but Dad stabbed him in a way that bent his wrist perpendicular to the angle of his forearm. He was offering his forearm as a place for the zombie to bite and took advantage by killing him right after.
"Simple, no others?" He asked, looking back at us.
As soon as he stabbed the zombie, my gun went down, and I began looking everywhere to cover all bases.
"Nope, looks good-" I was suddenly cut off after a boy my age tackled me down the slope. I was lucky enough to push him off of me and he barreled down ever faster with the momentum I gave him. My body was young and very flexible, I didn't sustain any injuries once I hit the slope Dad was on.
The tackler, however, sunk into the water and had a branch cut up his knee pretty well. After he understood the situation and tried to run, Dad kicked his ankle and made his trip again. He sunk his knee into his back, and pushed hard, hearing the boy my age cry out in pain.
"Why are you running? Is danger nearby?" Dad asked. Farmer David held up his rifle, pointing it in the direction the boy was running from.
"Yes! God, it's one of those poking ones! With the bones!" He shouted out. Both Dad and Farmer David picked their heads up toward the hill, and Dad drew his gun.
The Attacker Zombie, which was now falling down the hill beside me, was looking to hurt people. It initially looked like he wanted to attack me, but I was quick on my feet and jumped over the opposite side of the creek, far away from any imminent danger.
Dad, on the other hand, shot a bullet through the Attacker's jaw and made it stumble. It turned out you had to shoot its brain to take it out, not just the head.
While it was stumbling, he feinted backward like he wanted to stab but changed his mind, and Farmer David shot him in the knee.
The Attacker fell to his only working knee, and Dad plunged the knife straight into the center of his skull, ripping it out and spreading blood into the water of the creek. He took careful precautions to make sure the zombie didn't bleed out into the water.
He looked back at the tackler, and put his knife away, offering his hand.
"For future reference, don't run somewhere that gets you cornered, it's incredibly stupid. The name is Charlie, and you are?" He asked the boy. He was still being polite, even when he attempted to hurt me.
I mean, at the end of the day, he didn't hurt me, and I was fine with the reason he even did it in the first place, but still, how rude...
"I'm Jack Waters, I'm a survivor from a nearby camp, and I got pushed away by that poking zombie and ended up here. I owe you a lot! Please, is there anything I can give to you?" Jack asked Dad. Dad tilted his head inquisitively and then looked to Farmer David.
"How close are you, and who leads you?" Dad asked Jack. Jack looked at Farmer David too, then eagerly answered, as if his wishes would be fulfilled.
"I call him Mister Lillie, sir!" Jack told Dad. We all nervously shot back at that response, and I couldn't help but pull my gun back out and look up the slope from the opposite side of the flowing creek.
"Lillie? As in, Vincent Lillie?" Dad asked Jack. He nodded his head, explaining that he never used the first names of people older than him, resorting to 'Mister' and 'Misses' more often than not. Dad and I weren't pleased with the answer because of what we learned from Korin, and Farmer David joined our thought process.
"No, sorry. I'm not interested. Not a fan of this Vincent Lillie guy," Dad explained. He threw our bottle of water to Jack and began to walk back up the slope to continue our journey.
"What? He's a nice guy, really! He takes care of us, he always looks ahead, and he's a good planner. The two of you would make a great couple of leaders, I'm sure of it!" Jack stated. Dad looked back at him and nodded willingly, getting up close to Jack to shake his hand.
"I'll make a consideration then since you vouch for him," Dad said.
As Jack grabbed onto his hand, Dad put him in a lock and pushed his arm behind his back, then pushed him up against a tree. From Jack's opposite hand, a knife fell out and onto the floor, and Dad kicked it away.