Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3

by Coley, Joseph

  SIX FEET FROM HELL: BOOKS 1-3

  BY JOSEPH A. COLEY

  ©2011 – 2013 JOSEPH A. COLEY

  COVER ART BY SHAED STUDIOS

  WWW.SHAEDSTUDIOS.COM

  SIX FEET FROM HELL: RESPONSE

  BY JOSEPH A. COLEY

  © 2011 - JOSEPH A. COLEY

  CHAPTER 1

  As far as alarm clocks go, Joe’s was top of the line. The soothing beep that gave way to the WAKE YOUR ASS UP NOW sound was less than pleasing. Unless, of course, the ample sized SNOOZE button was hit, giving him another 10 (not the industry standard 9) minutes of sleep. He always hit the snooze button at least once. Not this morning, however. What woke him up was not his time-defying 10-minute snooze tap, but a message on his cell phone from his supervisor, Larry. It read:

  Need u here now! Call me ASAP!

  Joe groaned and wondered why he was being woken up early for a shift that did not start until 8 AM. He squinted at the clock, noticing that it read 5:03 AM. He wondered what supervisor in their right mind sent a text message on a Friday morning to BE HERE NOW! Blinking away the sleepiness that came with an unexpected wakeup call at five in the morning, Joe lazily rolled over, set his feet on the cold floor, and rose. He did not have a shower the night before after a 12-hour long shift that turned into a 15-hour long shift due to some crackhead’s all-you-can-eat drug buffet. That joyous event had gotten him a late shift call that ended up being sent down the road to the better-equipped hospital in Roanoke.

  Joe’s work as an EMT had made up most of his adult life and he had loved most every minute of it until recently. He was 31 years old and had just renewed his EMT for the third time wondering if he was going to be able to stay in a career that did not see too many people making to retirement age. Even at his relatively young age, he was starting to wonder if his knees and back were going to survive another 5 years of caring for people. He worked at an ambulance service which for the most part doing what he and his co-workers affectionately called “gomer toting” which amounted to taking the elderly that could not walk or get around in a wheelchair to doctor’s appointments, radiation treatments and other transports. Joe had worked 911 calls for Buchanan County for a few years, had grown tired of the blood, guts, and glory that came with doing emergency calls every day, and had transferred stations to a much easier assignment in nearby Tazewell County.

  Joe made himself get up and started digging around for his daily essentials. The black pants and red shirt that made up his work uniform at Star Ambulance was thankfully washed the night before by his wife and laid out on the couch with a note.

  “Have a good day! Love, Buffey”

  As he was getting dressed, he called Larry to see what all the fuss was about. Larry rarely got excited to the point where he was panicked about anything so an early message of that kind of exclamation probably was not conducive to a good day. Joe dialed Larry and he immediately picked up.

  “This had better be good,” Joe said

  “Damn straight it is!” Larry replied immediately. “Some kind of big ass mine explosion down in Grundy and WE are getting a ton of patients sent our way.”

  “How many people?”

  “Not sure at this point, one of the mines hit some kind of pocket underground and its causing all kinds of bad juju with the miners. It happened about an hour ago, but we didn’t realize the scope of all this, so we are just now getting word of everything that is goin’ down. Typical confusion and lack of info is crippling us. The miners have some weird shit goin’ on with ’em and we are fallin’ behind on getting to ‘em.”

  “Why what’s up with all of ’em? Seems like just a mass casualty. Is there something you’re not telling me?” Joe asked as he headed out the door.

  Larry seemed to pause a noticeably long time before replying. It almost seemed as if Larry was afraid of something but was just too proud to admit it. “Just get here as soon as you can, I’ve called in everybody that I can get hold of. Even those two dipshit rookies that we hired last week are on the way so I expect you to be here too,” said Larry. He obviously did not want to discuss details.

  “Alright, man calm down I’m on the way I’ll head across the mountain and save some time but I will lose cell service for a while; I will see you in an hour,” Joe replied and ended the conversation with his agitated supervisor. It was times like these that Joe really hated working in a profession that made him available at someone’s beckon call at such a shitty time of day. He often wanted to go work in computer programming or sucking farts out of old car seats or just some other shit job that did not require him being awake before the sun came up. Nobody calls McDonald’s at three in the morning with a hamburger emergency. Joe finished getting dressed and headed out the door.

  As he drove towards Rural Retreat (his hometown of some 8 years now) he noticed the thick fog and cool September air. Even in the dark, he could tell it was going to be bad weather. He also began to wonder why Larry had not discussed the details of his early call-in. He and Larry had worked together some years in Grundy (way down in the heart of coal country) and had their fair share of bad calls. Suicides, motor vehicle crashes, sick kids, and other assorted mayhem had always been their forte and they always came out clean and smiling. Larry had changed now that he was in charge of his own station, for the better obviously, but it was the lack of information that bothered Joe the most. He liked knowing what was coming in a line of work that was notorious for NOT having the same thing happen twice on a regular basis. Joe contemplated the possibilities for how his day would go on his drive down Interstate 81 towards Marion. After that, the inevitable thirty-plus mile drive across three S-curve filled mountains waited for him. Why did he call in the two green rookies? Why was he calling in everybody? As Joe thought this over his phone chimed in with a text message from another coworker, Josh.

  ALL HELL BREAKING LOOSE IN GRUNDY it said boldly.

  What the hell? Josh was not one to panic in times of conflict either. Joe had ran Josh’s first cardiac arrest with him after passing his National Registry Intermediate test and he and Josh had performed like a well-oiled machine without so much as a word between them. A good partner knew what to do and what to expect and knew how to read his partner’s thoughts as what to do next. Joe was at a loss as to what his longtime friend was thinking at this moment. The curiosity got the best of him and he dialed Josh to find out exactly what the hell was going on seeing as how there had not been that kind of message from his friend since, well, ever. The phone rang again one time and Josh picked up immediately as Larry had not 10 minutes earlier. The conversation that followed was hard to hear and even harder to comprehend as Joe started up the first mountain. From what he could understand, there was an explosion underground at one of the mines in Buchanan County that had released some sort of toxic gas underground. As if that was not bad enough there had been almost simultaneous explosions at over two dozen mines in the county and reports of similar incidents in McDowell County in West Virginia and Pike County, Kentucky. The symptoms of the affected miners sounded like a combination of anaphylactic shock and febrile seizures. The injured miners acted as if they had allergic reactions to bees as well as spiking a ravenous fever of around 105 degrees. Their airway would nearly close off as they lost brain cells from the brain nearly cooking in their skulls.

  Josh had said that there were already at least 100 patients at Grundy’s hospital alone and more were expected, as there was just not enough help to go around. Grundy was a small town in the far end of Southwestern Virginia and right smack in the heart of coal country. Coal was what kept the town going even in the age of the “carbon footprint”. Miners would risk their lives every day to bring the soft, black gold
out of Mother Earth and they were happy to do it, even if it meant that they might not get to see the light of day again should the unthinkable happen. Today, however, it seemed that Mother Earth was fighting back, releasing her own brand of defense to the intrusion of man into her depths. Being a spot on the map on the edge of nowhere also meant that there was not much to go around in the event of a catastrophe. Josh also mentioned that it seemed that death was inevitable for those that were poisoned, as nothing was working at the hospitals. Every drug that was available just did not cut it right at the moment and it seemed that the doctors were grasping at straws as what to try next.

  As Joe listened to all this he could not help but think that there was something else to this disaster. There was more to it than just some miners hitting a methane pocket a couple thousand feet down. The sheer scale and number of patients and was happening was all too coincidental for something that simple. It was, after all, three counties and three different states involved in all this. He dismissed the theory that it was just bad luck and was trying to come up with some sort of rational explanation as to what was going on when he began to lose connection with Josh as he was nearly to the bottom of the first mountain.

  “Shit!” Joe exclaimed as he lost connection. He would not get service back until near the top of the second mountain and that was 15 minutes away at best. He thought to himself, hope for the best, and plan for the worst. That was his mantra throughout most of his life. Joe prided himself on being prepared in most everything from weekend cookouts to “Weekend Warrior” training at his Army Reserve unit. In his eleven years as a reservist, he had been in a number of areas around the world that if you were not prepared, you would end up dead, or worse. Captured with no way out and no way to help one’s self was not the way to go out. Joe began to run through in his head of what he had in his car with him that was useful in this mass-casualty incident. He had his W.A.L.K. (Warrior Aid and Litter Kit) bag with him as well as his Combat Medic kit that his brother-in-law has snagged for him “off the books” from Ft. Hood. He doubted the W.A.L.K. kit would do much good in this situation because they would already have plenty of backboards and litters available, though it was nice to have in the event of an unmanageable situation.

  As Joe drove towards Tazewell, he began to think about his wife, Buffey and his 9-year-old son, Rickey. He had left early in the morning, much earlier than he had planned, without so much as a “see you later” and had headed out the door. He thought of how alone they would be without him there, and it bothered him greatly. Joe and Buffey had been inseparable friends since the day they had met and were still that way nearly ten years later. They had met through a mutual friend at the rescue squad that they were both on and had immediately hit it off. Buffey was 8 years older than he was, but she shared the same love of everyday life that he did, and it showed in the fact that Joe had convinced her to try video games. She beat him at Battlefield on a regular basis from there on out and it tickled him to no end that his girl could kick any dude’s ass at any first-person shooter. Joe decided he would call them in a few hours after all the commotion had died down, and to tell both of them some good “war stories” from the inevitable headline-grabbing incident that was currently going on in Grundy.

  As Joe neared the top of the second hill climb towards Tazewell, he regained service on his cell phone and was immediately greeted by three different text messages from as many different people. The first message was from Larry wanting to know what was taking him so long. He would let that one go for the time being, just give Larry a good smack upside the back of his head later, and tell him to chill out; he was going as fast as he could. The second message was from another coworker, Missy, who was Star’s only female employee at the Tazewell station, she was very smart and one of Joe’s favorite partners to work with. She warned Joe that he was going to be partnered up with David, one of the rookies that had recently started working at Star Ambulance as well as a recent graduate from EMT class. Great, Joe thought. I’m going to be stuck with the buzzard-looking moron that might as well been the door gunner on the space shuttle.

  David was notorious in his short stint with Star Ambulance for telling of all the supposed lives that he had saved in his short time as an EMT and as a combat medic in the Army. Joe and his colleagues had called him out on most of his lies, yet he persisted on what a badass he was. Never mind the fact that he looked like a cartoon buzzard from some 1960‘s Looney Tunes episode. Tall, lanky, and goofy looking were not appealing characteristics as well as the fact that he was a compulsive liar. In addition, he was stuck with Star’s other resident window-licker, James. Short, fat, and dumb was no way to go through life but that did not seem to stop him from getting a job alongside Joe and his well-trained coworkers. James was blessed (or cursed) with the personality of a wet dishcloth and did not care to lie to anyone to get his way. Joe did not like having him around at all. To him, James seemed like he could be dangerous, given the right circumstances.

  The third message was a voicemail from Josh who informed Joe that the miners that had not died in the initial explosions were being taken by ground and by air to a number of hospitals. A dozen or more helicopters were coming in to Grundy Municipal Airport to transport them by air to trauma centers in Charleston, Winston-Salem, Roanoke, Bristol, Kingsport, Johnson City, and Pikeville. The rest of the injured were being taken to local hospitals in Grundy, Richlands, and Joe’s area hospital in Tazewell, Bluefield, Lebanon, and Wytheville. Josh went on to say that nearly every emergency room within 75 miles was receiving injured miners. The affected group of people were numbering around 250, with no official word as to what caused the event or what was being done. Chaos and disorder were ruling the day. Josh, as well, now had a twinge of fear in his voice that Joe had not noticed before. Something did not seem right.

  Now well past the last climb of his journey to work Joe had plenty to digest as well as a gargantuan feeling in his gut that was telling him something was amiss. Larry and Josh were both freaking out; his wife was still none the wiser that he had this all going on so far away from home. The incident looked like a full 24 to 48 hour shift ahead; he would not be getting home anytime soon. The influx of family members and outside help was going to wreak havoc on the small mountain area assured him that he was going to have to sleep at work until the situation calmed down. At least he had two MRE’s (Meals Ready to Eat) in the trunk from his last field training exercise at the unit and a case of water that he sipped on when there was too much month at the end of the money and could not afford the fast-food luxury.

  * * *

  As he neared town Joe began to notice the traffic on the normally quiet Route 16 was picking up as well as seeing what was going to be the first of many medevac helicopters flying off to the south, likely headed towards hospitals in Tennessee. He headed toward the main four-lane highway and immediately wished that he had stayed on back roads instead. Joe had never seen a traffic jam of this kind of proportion in a county that had less than 30,000 residents. Vehicles lined the east and westbound lanes to the point that it was impossible to get on the highway let alone get anywhere fast. Joe reached down and flipped the dash lights on in his car that he had installed back in the day before he got paid to do what he did, and the red and white LED’s quickly lit up to no avail to the passing motorists. Cars were moving at a snail’s pace and a few drivers rolled their windows down to ask how their loved ones were doing or where they were being taken after seeing that a person of authority was trying to get through.

  “How the hell should I know?” Joe mumbled under his breath as he turned down the emergency lane to get moving toward the station. He made a point not to make eye contact for the next few miles until he reached his destination, which looked like a free all-you-can-eat buffet at a fat kid’s birthday party. People were already lined up outside the station wanting to know what passing travelers had just asked of him not five minutes earlier. Joe got out of his car and was immediately hounded by a young woman
around 20 years old about the whereabouts of her boyfriend.

  “I’m sorry ma’am I just got here I don’t have any more information than you do,” Joe said as calmly and sincerely as he could muster. Joe looked around at the irritated people standing in the doorway of the station and drew his gaze back at the woman.

  “How is it that this many people know about all of this already, anyway?” he asked.

  “It was all over Facebook right after it happened, everybody is posting about it!” The woman said emphatically.

  “Oh I see,” Joe said, trying to act as if he gave two shits about Facebook. Damn social networking is going to be the end of us, he thought.

  “Hey Joe!” a voice rang out from behind the doorway; it was Jamie, Star Ambulance’s resident gun nut. Jamie had a collection of weapons that would make the National Guard Armory look like the sporting goods section at Wal-Mart, but was a great guy anyway. Jamie was in his early forties but had the sophomoric sense of humor of a sixteen-year-old kid; he looked obviously worried despite his normally calm demeanor.

  “Be right there, man!” Joe responded and slunk away from the woman who was now using her cellphone. Probably posting more useless bullshit on Facebook, Joe thought.

  Joe opened the trunk, got his personal three-day assault pack out of the back of the car, and stuffed his two MRE’s and a couple bottles of water as well as his CamelBak. The water bladder was still relatively full from last weekend’s hike that he had taken, and his tactical tomahawk and bowie knife that were both still in the bag as well, also from his outdoor excursion. Probably not going to get any chance to get this stuff later, he thought, and closed the lid. He made his way through the crowd of people into the station and Jamie caught up with him in stride.

  “I don’t like the look of this,” said Jamie nervously.

  “Me either dude, it sounds like this is the real deal from what I’ve heard from Josh down in Grundy,” Joe replied.