by Glyn Gardner
As she kneeled down to assess him closer, she could tell that his breathing was indeed rapid and shallow. She pulled out a pocket knife and cut the man’s shirt. There, on his chest was a bright red, circular bruise. The boy had hit the steering wheel when the cars hit. This wasn’t good.
She put her ear to the man’s chest in a couple of places. Good she thought, he has breath sounds all the way around. That means he did not puncture a lung. She briefly thought of the little girl, Alicia, huddled in the back of the LMTV. Jen had been forced to improvise a chest tube and drainage system to save her from a collapsed lung only 10 days ago.
She began feeling the man for other injuries. When she reached the right shoulder, the man screamed out in pain and she could feel crunching beneath her fingers. Crepitus, she knew was a physical finding of a broken bone. Further examination led her to believe it was the man’s shoulder blade that was broken.
She continued with her trauma assessment. The steering wheel seemed to have broken several ribs. This could be the cause of the man’s breathing difficulty. Broken ribs were painful, and patients often would breathe shallow to keep the pain down.
She did not find any other serious injuries. She noted a pain response when she squeezed the man’s left knee, but nothing appeared to be broken. His neck and back seemed to be ok also, although both were tender.
She was just about to tell SSgt Brown what her initial plan for the injured boy was when the first shot rang out. Seven or eight zombies had broken from the wood line and were advancing on the group. Theresa was firing Pvt. Jackson’s rifle from the back of the LMTV. After several shots, the first zombie fell.
“Mike,” Jen yelled to her husband. “Help me get him in the truck! Sergeant Brown, we need help here!”
The big NCO ordered Sgt Procell to cover them as he moved to help.
“Hold his neck still,” Jen ordered the NCO. “I don’t think it’s broke, but I don’t know. Ok, on three, everybody lift as one. One…Two…Three.” They lifted the man and carried him to the LMTV.
“Jackson, hold his neck still,” she ordered. “Ease him up guys.” The rest of the people in the truck did as they were told. The man screamed when they dropped him to the deck of the truck.
The shooting continued around them. Mike and SSgt Brown began firing at the growing crowd of undead. Jen climbed into the bed of the truck.
“Sergeant Brown,” Theresa called out. “They’re coming from the other side of the road too. We have to go!”
He turned. The closest zombies had almost reached the LMTV. He slapped Sgt Procell and Mike on the back and began running for the vehicles. He could see they weren’t going to make it to the big truck. The Humvee was closer, but the truck was out of the question. The others saw it as well.
Mike jumped in the rear door of the HMMWV as Sgt Procell climbed on the hood and dropped into the turret ring. SSgt Brown barely got his driver’s side door closed as the first zombie reached their vehicle. He could hear the women screaming in the LMTV.
The truck was tall, but it was not so tall that the zombies couldn’t reach into it. He could hear gunshots coming from the big truck and saw several of the zombies fall to the ground, only to be replaced by more.
Jen was pulling the young man as far from the tailgate of the truck as she could. Cold dead hands grasped at the man’s feet as she did. The moaning was horrendous. Shit! She thought. What now? Mike isn’t here. She didn’t even know how many zombies were surrounding the vehicle.
Suddenly the LMTV started and lurched forward. Jen turned to the cab. All she could see was long red hair in the driver’s seat. Kerry. Thank God she’d kept her head. The vehicle rolled slowly forward. Even slowly, Jen could feel the vibrations coming from the front of the truck. The accident must have caused some kind of damage. The vibration turned into quite the bumpy ride as the truck continued down the road.
Jen considered what she needed to do for the young man. He had an airway and was breathing. He had a pulse. He was unconscious, that was bad. She didn’t feel any broken bones on her assessment. She knew if he had come in to her ER on an ambulance, he’d have a C-collar on, and would be strapped to a backboard. At this moment she had neither. She thought she could probably rig a C-collar, but decided against it. If he had an unstable cervical fracture, he was a goner anyway.
Terry was becoming more coherent and began answering questions. He told Jen why he was on the road and about the others at the fire station. When she told him about Holly, he cried. She cleaned the blood from his face. The lacerations weren’t as bad as she first believed. She didn’t have anything to sew him up with, so she asked him to hold the bandages to his face.
Several miles down the road, the vehicles pulled to the side of the road. The three men got out of the Humvee. Sgt Procell stopped to assess the damage to the LMTV. SSgt Brown peered over the tailgate.
“How is he?” he asked.
I’m fine,” the younger man answered.
The NCO climbed into the bed. He stood over the fire fighter.
“Can he sit up?”
The man didn’t wait for Jen’s answer. He leaned to his left and pushed himself up to a sitting position.
“Hi,” he said, reaching out with his left hand. “I’m Terry Briton.”
“Staff Sergeant Brown, Louisiana National Guard,” he answered taking the boy’s hand. “What the hell were you doing going so damned fast on that road?”
“Easy sir,” he shot back. “First, I was the one on the right side of the road. You guys were in my lane. Second, how the hell was I supposed to know you were gonna be around here. We haven’t seen anyone in almost a week.”
“You and the girl?”
Terry felt the wind go out of his sails. If he could hang his head, he would.
“No, the rest of the folks at the station.”
“What station? How many people are there?”
Terry thought for a moment. His thoughts went to the guys who had tried to raid the station. There were still bodies lying dead in front of the station. Mike Sykes and Debbie Holloway had been injured during the attack. He looked at the faces of the people around him. They didn’t look to be that bad. He eyed the two soldiers; the black kid seemed to be injured. Then, there were the kids. They looked scared out of their minds.
Oh well, he thought. They did drag his ass out of the truck.
“There’s about 15 of us in a fire station about three miles away; mostly the guys from my shift and some family members.”
Terry told the big NCO how to get to the fire station. Oh good, thought the NCO, more survivors. He thought back to the last group of survivors that had found them.
His thoughts were interrupted by a Whoop…Whoop…Whoop coming from the east. There flying just above the trees was a CH-47 Chinook helicopter. The pilot seemed to be following the highway.
Everyone stood up and began waving their arms and yelling. SSgt Brown had to calm them down and remind them that the crew couldn’t hear them, but the zombies could.
SSgt Brown looked around. There wasn’t nearly enough room for the big Chinook to land.
The pilot of the big craft knew it also. He came to a hover about 45 feet above the group. The crew chief leaned out of the back ramp, waving at them. SSgt Brown’s spirits rose immediately. If there was a Chinook here, then there was someone maintaining and fueling it somewhere close. He didn’t know where, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
After hovering for a minute or two, the crew chief disappeared into the aircraft, and then reappeared. The pilot side slipped the aircraft about 15 feet. Suddenly something fell from the back of the helicopter, landing in the grass in the median. The crew chief waved one more time and gave them a thumbs up. The pilot added power and the big helicopter continued following the highway west.
Mike jogged to the median and retrieved the object dropped by the helicopter. He returned with two bandoliers of ammo and a hand written note. He gave the note to SSgt Brown who read it.
You’re not alone. Get to the Mississippi River. River patrols daily. Safety is just off the coast. Helicopters flying. Will keep an eye out.
Good Luck
Pinson, WO3 USA
PS hope the ammo helps.
He shoved the note in his pocket. Walking to the front of the vehicle he met Sgt Procell there. He handed him a couple of rifle magazines. Looking at the truck, he could see it wasn’t good. The front corner of the truck had been pushed in. That wasn’t the worst of it. The wheel on that side of the vehicle was sitting at an odd angle.
“What do you think?”
The younger NCO looked at him, took his hat off, and rubbed his head.
“Shit Sergeant Brown, I don’t know. They drove this far, so we may be able to go a few more miles, but we’re gonna be short on seats real quick.”
“We need to get to the river,” the older man said. “The kid from the accident says he’s part of a group of firemen that are holed up in their fire station a few miles away. Maybe they can help. Think we can make it?”
“Yeah, I think so. Only one way to find out.”
SSgt Brown turned and walked to the Humvee, waving Mike on as he did.
The LMTV was in fact able to make it to the fire station. The two military vehicles pulled in front of the tall brick building. The two garage doors were closed. They all noticed the bullet holes in the thin aluminum.
They also noticed that the doors to the offices had been boarded up. Two men stood on the roof, both with hunting rifles. Several bodies were lying on the ground leading to the garage doors. Some had obviously been zombies when they fell; others obviously were living and breathing when they were struck down. There was a fence that surrounded the rear of the building. There were very few zombies roaming the area and none very close to the fire station.
“Who are you?” said a voice from above.
“Chuck, it’s Terry! There was an accident. These people helped.”
“Where’s Holly?” It was Captain Reynolds
Terry didn’t know what to say. Tears flowed down his cheeks. “She got hurt,” he cried.
“What do you mean, hurt?”
“She wasn’t buckled in, Sir.”
“Terry, quit tip toeing around and answer the question boy!”
“She’s dead.”
“Damn it, Terry! What the hell were you thinking? What the hell happened?”
SSgt Brown was beginning to get very uncomfortable. He looked around. The local zombies were beginning to take notice.
“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t know there would be any traffic on the road. I hadn’t seen anyone in a week?”
“Traffic? You hit someone else? Who were they?”
“Us, he hit our truck,” Jen announced.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Jen. I’m an emergency room nurse.” She’d known a lot of paramedics and EMT’s working in the ER. She hoped that would give her some credibility here.
“Mrs. Jen, I’m Sam Reynolds. This is my house. You were there when my daughter was killed?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered. “She broke her neck in the accident.”
There was silence from the roof.
“Captain Reynolds,” the young man called. Still no answer.
Finally one of the giant garage style doors rolled up about 4 feet. A fireman in bunker gear with an ax in hand waved them in. They entered.
The group was met by a half dozen firemen, four women and six children of varying ages. Two of the firemen stepped forward and took Terry by the arms. An older fireman stepped forward.
“Terry, you are charged with endangering the life of another. That endangerment caused the death of another. How do you plead to the charges?”
“What?” the young man asked. “What do you mean charges? I didn’t do anything wrong! For God’s sake Sam!”
“A plea of not guilty will be entered,” the older man announced turning to a middle-aged woman in a pair of cat-eyed glasses. He nodded his head and the other firemen each grabbed an arm of the younger man. He screamed as they jerked on his injured arm.
“Steve,” the older man ordered as they walked away. “Have Todd check Terry out.”
The older man stepped forward. He wore a dark colored t-shirt with a Maltese cross and the letters FD in it. He held out his hand to Jen
“Sam Reynolds,” he said. The look on his face betrayed the pain and anger he was feeling. “This is my fire station.”
Jen grasped the man’s hand. He quickly released his grip, not waiting for her to actually introduce herself.
“This is Mary Hebert,” he motioned to the woman with the glasses. “She is our local legal eagle. You and your people will make yourselves at her disposal for questioning.”
“Questioning,” SSgt Brown interjected. “What do you mean questioning?”
“And just who might you be?” the fireman asked.
“Staff Sergeant Brown, Louisiana National Guard.” He offered his hand. The older man did not accept it. Jen could see the anger was back in his eyes.
“Well, as I’m sure you noticed, the young man you brought here is being charged in the death of another. You people are witnesses to that crime and therefore will be asked to remain here until we sort this out.”
He motioned for another fireman, this one quite a bit younger than the captain, but wearing a matching shirt. The young man motioned them to follow. He led them to a storage room in the back of the building. After the group entered the room, the young fireman closed the door. Mike and Jen exchanged troubled looks as they both heard the distinctive click of the door lock.
“What the hell was that?” demanded Mike.
“I think,” SSgt Brown started. “We have just been placed in custody as witnesses to an accident.”
“Why?” asked Theresa. “We didn’t do anything wrong. We just had an accident. That’s not a crime is it?”
Kerry looked to the teenager. “No it isn’t. I think he’s just pissed that his little girl got killed.”
“That’s right sweetheart,” Jen added. “He’s just surprised and is hurting. It’s natural.”
The girl began to sob.
“That’s what scares me,” she said. “Daddy used to always say make sure and kill an animal that is injured. When they’re injured and scared, that’s when they’re the most dangerous.”
The room got very quiet. One of the younger kids began to sob along with Theresa. The mood of the room took a collective dive.
“Look,” SSgt Brown barked. “It’s going to be fine. They let us keep our weapons. If they wanted us to be prisoners, we’d have been disarmed.” He wasn’t sure how much he believed what he just said.
“Yeah,” Sgt Procell added. “We can still defend ourselves if we need to.”
As if on cue, the door opened and Ms. Hebert strode into the room with two armed firemen. She carried a yellow legal pad and pen. Jen couldn’t help but notice that, even in her jeans and tennis shoes, she looked like a lawyer. Jen had seen her kind before at depositions. A knot formed in her stomach. This was going to be painful.
“Ok, I have a few questions for each of you. First, who was driving the vehicle that Terry hit?”
Sgt Procell stood. “That was me.”
“Please follow me Sergeant,” she ordered. It occurred to SSgt Brown that Sgt Procell had neither introduced himself to her, nor identified his rank. She knew something about the military rank structure. He was even that much more unsettled.
“So, you’re telling me that Terry was driving too fast on the wrong side of the road?” The woman had rephrased the question several times.
“No, he wasn’t,” the young NCO answered.
“Wasn’t what?” she demanded. “Wasn’t driving too fast or wasn’t on the wrong side of the street?”
“Wait!” he was getting frustrated. It didn’t occur to him that was exactly what she wanted him to feel. “He was driving too fast, yes.”
Before he could finish
his statement, she interrupted again. “So he was on the correct side of the highway?”
“Yes!” he shouted. Finally this friggin’ woman was getting it. “He was in the right lane; we were on the wrong side!” Uh oh, he thought. Her changing expression told him that was what she’d wanted to hear.
“So, why were you on the wrong side of…?”
The door opened again. Ms. Hebert and her escorts entered. “Follow me please,” she ordered, pointing at SSgt Brown. She spun on her heels without giving him time to protest.
As the door closed, the others began chatting nervously.
“Where is Sgt Procell?” Mike asked no one in particular.
“I don’t know, but she seems to know exactly who and what she wants before she walks into the room.” Kerry was beginning to get worried herself.
The pattern continued for another several hours. Pvt Jackson, then Jen, Mike, Kerry, and the rest were questioned and did not return to the room. Finally the room was occupied by Theresa and the two middle school children. Both were crying. Theresa was scared too, but someone had to act like an adult. She fought back her fears.
She began thinking of ways to get out of their predicament. She still had her shotgun. The kids each had knives. They could try to get the guard to open the door and try to overpower him. She quickly dismissed that plan. She didn’t know what to do after that.
She pulled the shotgun closer. There was something comforting about the cold black metal. She let the cold soak into her hands. She placed it between her knees and let her head rest on the side of the barrel. The cold metal on her head helped her to formulate a good plan. She knew they couldn’t shoot their way out. She didn’t know where the others were. She didn’t know if they were alive or dead. She thought about her brother Davy. She missed him so much. He would know exactly how to get them out of this situation.
The door, it opens inward. That means there is a blind spot behind it. That was her advantage. The next time someone came in, she would take them from behind. She would force them to give her friends back to her, or she would kill them.
