“I’m sure she listened to you and holed up. She knows that nothing is gonna stop you from getting home, too,” Jamie said.
“Yeah, I know. She has food, supplies, and guns with plenty of ammo. It’s just that I need to get to her and I don’t know how I’m gonna do it,” Joe replied.
“Well, Andrew and Donnie both need to get to Marion. We could saddle up in one of the ambulances and go across the mountain. Be a lot less people and a shitload easier than hitting the main roads, which are already a damn warzone.”
“What do you mean, ‘we’? What are you gonna do?” Joe said, noticing that Jamie had included himself in the scheme. Jamie was single, no ties to hold him to his hometown. He also had plenty of firepower to get them across the mountains with relative ease. “Yeah, thought you would like some company along the way. What the hell am I gonna do here? Use up all my ammo and then not be able to get out of here when the time comes, or go with ya’ll and possibly have the most fun of my life?” Jamie said, cracking a smile.
“Alrighty then,” Joe said, “we go.”
For the first time since their ordeal had started, Joe felt like that things might work out in their favor. Jamie was right. Going across the mountain instead of hitting the main roads would be less populated and have less vehicles traveling through the area. Both of those facts were not lost on Joe. The mission, such as it was, would be much easier with a few extra guns and they would be getting where they were needed. To their families, their children. Joe spoke to Larry about taking one of the ambulances to get home in. The Dodge Ram 2500HD that they were using would be perfect for the haul. Big fuel tank, four-wheel-drive, and plenty of power. “I know its stealing, but...” Larry cut Joe off in mid-sentence and put his hand up. “I don’t really think those rules apply anymore, do you?” he said.
“No I don’t reckon they do,” Joe said. “So you are leaving now then?”
“No we will wait ‘til tonight. I figure it will be safer then. Hell, I might hijack me one of those Hummer H3‘s from Ramey’s myself,” Larry said, laughing.
Kody joined the conversation from a far corner of the room. Joe had almost forgotten that he was there. “I think I will stick with Larry for a little while. I don’t suppose you could get me home, could you? I have plenty of guns and a decent amount of ammo to do me for a while. I just hope that my family hasn’t tried to get outta here in a hurry.”
“Sure, man. We can get you over to ‘em. Let’s not waste any more time,” Larry replied.
“Well me, Jamie, Andrew, and Donnie are all going to go across Route 16 to Marion. They got family in Marion and it’s safer for me to go that way.” Joe paused, knowing this would be the last time he ever saw his friend. “Good luck and God bless, Larry. I will miss you, brother.” Joe said, and shook Larry’s hand, his eyes welling up and holding back tears.
“Good luck to you to, man. Tell Buffey I said we will see ya’ll on the other side,” Larry said, his voice cracking and holding back tears as well.
“Not just yet you won’t.” Joe said and made his mind up. When he went to the other side, he was going to take some of the undead with him.
CHAPTER 6
Buffey stared at the phone. “Hello! Hey! You’re breaking up!” The phone call she had just received from Joe had gone dead. She had heard him say something, maybe about the cell towers. She could not make out what he was saying at the end of the conversation. The high-end technology would be the first to go, Joe had told her before when the subject of a disaster came up. Cell phones, wireless Internet, and other high-tech gadgets would be useless. Buffey was confused as to why it was going to take him so long to get home. He had said that they should have enough supplies for a couple weeks.
A couple weeks? What the hell is going on? Buffey thought. To beat it all Joe was hurt as well, and she did not like the fact of him being so far away without care. She picked up the home phone and dialed his cellphone back. The annoying RNK message came on and said that the customer she was trying to reach was no longer available and to try her call later. Disgusted, she hung up. She then dialed Chris’ cellphone to see what was taking him so long. Same message, same uneasy feeling.
Buffey walked back into the living room and was met by their son, Rickey. “Mommy, I can’t get on Xbox Live anymore. Can you reset the Internet?” he said.
Buffey felt another pang of fear as she glanced at the router for the DSL. All three lights were on but the INTERNET light was red, meaning no internet, and soon no phone line. She put her hand over her eyes and contemplated. She was about to tell Rickey that the internet was not coming back on when she heard a loud noise coming from outside. She instinctively grabbed the only weapon she had, a .22 rifle with a 10 round clip Joe had bought from Ronnie, Buffey’s oldest son. She had married once before, and had children at 16 and 17. Ronnie had a sister named Lori as well. They were 20 and 21, now respectively. God, I forgot about them in all this, I hope they are on the way, Buffey thought. I didn’t even call them. They know to come here if things get bad, just like that tornado last April. She did not have time to dwell on it any further, as she went to the door and looked out. Chris had pulled haphazardly up to the singlewide trailer that was Buffey and Joe’s home and was getting out in a frenzy. Ashleigh was with him and in the same state of panic as she shot out of the truck and headed for Buffey and the front door. Buffey was too awestruck to say anything as they were getting out.
“Hey, what is going on?” Buffey shouted at Chris as he went around to the back of the truck and began to get bags of what looked like canned food and water out of the truck.
“Just keep me covered while I get all this shit in the house!” Chris ordered.
“Cover you from what? Tell me what the fuck is going on here!” Buffey burst out.
“There are goddamned zombies all over town! Ashleigh and I barely got out of there in one piece! If you see anyone that doesn’t look familiar, shoot ‘em in the head!” Chris said as he unloaded some more groceries, canned soup, and the like.
“Are you kidding me? Joe is stuck in Tazewell, and he’s hurt but he’s OK. He said he’s gonna try to get here as soon as he can. He’s holed up somewhere there; the damn phone went out before I could find out anything else. How many of those things are there in town?” Buffey asked.
“I dunno a couple dozen at least. The ones in the ground are coming out, too,” Chris said as he feverishly tossed more items on the front porch. “Ash, you, and Buffey get this stuff inside; I’m gonna go get the shotgun and my ammo first. I need to get the gas cans out and fill up the generator, too. Work fast! I don’t know how much time we have before they get here!”
Buffey and Ashleigh began to grab items off the porch and bring them inside, tossing them wherever they could make room. Chris had a good haul of supplies as Buffey noticed several boxes of matches, some bottled water, and an assortment of canned goods. Baked beans, corn, green beans, ravioli, it was all there. Enough food to last for a few weeks might have been an overestimate, however. Buffey figured that they would have enough for a week, maybe two since Ashleigh was now with them. They would have to ration what they ate and keep careful track of everything. They brought the last of the items inside - a case of instant noodles - and both looked back outside to make sure it was still clear. Chris came out of his tiny apartment, shotgun in hand, and with several boxes of shells. He froze in place as he approached the house. He tossed the boxes of shells at Ashleigh and Buffey.
“What the hell are you doing? Get in here!” they shouted at him.
He darted back to the building and this time came back out with a hockey stick, and his compound bow. He had six broad head arrows in the quiver and another three practice arrows in his hand.
“We are gonna need this shit, might as well get it now!” he said. Chris was right, Buffey thought, the bow was a hell of a lot more quiet than the Mossberg 12 gauge that he had. “Here,” Chris said as he handed Buffey the bow and arrows as well as the defenseman’s stick,
“I’ve got to fill up the generator around the back of the house. Take the rest of the gas cans and put ‘em in the house while I go fill it up.”
Buffey and Ashleigh did as they were told and went to the truck and procured the three (5) gallon cans that were left and brought them inside. Chris grabbed the other can in one hand and carried the Mossberg in the other. He slowly maneuvered to the end of the trailer nearest the generator. He apprehensively clutched the shotgun. He did not want to have to fill up the generator right now, but having it at least full of fuel would be a head start on using it when the time came. Chris did not figure that time was too far off by now, either. He moved to the end of the house, set the can down, and raised the shotgun, scanning the area for any movement or sound. He did not hear anything except for the faint sound of sirens in the distance. The entire world had gone to shit in a matter of a few hours. It had not taken society long to fall apart, even in such a rustic place as Rural Retreat. It does not take long when you can’t call 911 or can’t get help by going to a hospital or flagging down a State Trooper. It was every man for himself, and it was going to stay that way for the foreseeable future.
Chris lowered the gun and quickly snatched the gas can and began to fill up the small generator. It only held little more than a gallon of gas, and would run a few hours on it. They would have to start it back up as needed, but for the time being the power was still on. He had got 20 gallons of gas total. The generator was loud, as well, bad news for attracting the undead. They could run it in spurts, cooking food and using lights as needed, but they would have to keep its use to a minimum until they could figure out what they were going to do. Chris finished filling the tank and replaced the cap. He switched it to START and pulled the chain to make sure it was going to work the next time he needed it to. The engine sputtered and blew white smoke out and died. He pulled the chain again and the unit sprang to life. He quickly shut it off and plugged the receptacle from the house that ran to the generator. The next time they needed it, it would be ready to go.
As the engine died, Chris heard the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet and the rotten stench of decay. The smell was palpable, like an invisible slime in the air that nearly made him gag. Chris immediately grabbed the shotgun and peered around the corner. A zombie about twenty feet away who looked like he had been frozen in time since the early 1900 met him. His clothes were tattered and filthy and he wore what remained of a straw hat and an old pair of coveralls. His face was grotesquely misconstrued, missing most of his lower jaw and the left side of his face. Worms and beetles crawled over his face and hands. His skin was almost entirely black, although Chris did not think he was African-American. He looked almost mummified. The throwback look suggested he was a farmer, most likely. Chris could see the left side of his skull was missing, and more larvae crawling in it. He raised the gun to the undead creature’s head and pulled the trigger. The zombie’s head exploded in a shower of decayed bits and dirt. The zombie was thrown back by the blast of the gun and landed on his back - sans face. Chris eagerly looked around for more of them to be coming, attracted by the blast. He again did not hear anything or see any more of them. He quickly gathered the gas can and headed back to the front of the house. Buffey was standing on the porch, rifle aimed in his direction.
“HEY! Watch where you point that thing!” he said. Buffey lowered the rifle. “What the hell was that, did you see one?”
“Yeah, old ass lookin’ one too. Think he might’ve been what was buried over in the woods.” Chris laughed. Joe and Buffey had always had their suspicions of what was buried about fifty yards away from their house, and it rather turned into a running joke. They had found rocks in a circle, about eight feet in diameter in a corner of their property and had run a metal detector over it several times. The detector went crazy, reading a large amount of metal in the ground, about ten feet down. They had assumed that it was an old cistern, as there was an old house that used to be on their property. The house had burned down before they moved their trailer onto the property. Nevertheless, they had left the area undisturbed in case that it was not just a cistern. Buffey now wondered what else might be buried on their property if the zombie that Chris had killed was the one in question. She shook her head and dismissed the idea. I hope that I am right, she thought. Chris brought the remaining gas can inside and set it with the others.
Once Chris was inside, he consulted with the women. They began to list all the things that needed to be fixed. They knew that they had to reinforce some areas, especially the sliding glass door on the backside of the house. It was double-pane glass, but it would not hold up in the event of several of the undead trying to get in. The front door, as well, would have to be reinforced. It was a typical singlewide trailer door, made mostly of plastic, vinyl, and Styrofoam insulation. There was no back porch, only a set of steps leading up to the sliding glass door. Those could go. The far bedroom had a floor-to-ceiling bay window. It needed to go as well. All the other windows of the house were too far off the ground, or had some kind of tactical advantage, so they would remain in place. They went to work on the areas needed first.
They began to work on the sliding glass door. It was thick, but also had a large viewing area, not suitable if they did not want to be seen. They tacked up the curtains as to not let any light in and reinforced the door by screwing on some leftover snap-together hardwood flooring across it. Aside from being strong, it was well insulated with backer board to deaden the sound made inside the house. They did the same to the front door, screwing in some of the hardwood flooring to it as well. They made a makeshift bar across the door with another piece. After they were satisfied that it would hold they began to try to figure out what to do about the back bedroom. The windows were nearly six feet tall, and the end of the trailer was four feet off the ground. There was plenty of room for the undead to climb in through the window and take one of them in their sleep, and they would be helpless against it. They decided to put several chest-of-drawers in front of the window to barricade it. If the zombies managed to get through the window, they would at least be slowed up by the heavy furniture. Chris decided they should leave the room off-limits to avoid attracting any unwanted guests.
They looked outside to the front porch. It did not have any railing or gate and would be easy to clamber up on to. As they were deciding on what to do with it, Buffey noticed more of the undead across the road at the dairy farm that belonged to their neighbors. There were about two dozen of them slowly shambling across the field. Buffey brought it to the group’s attention.
“Guys we ain’t alone. Look,” she said quietly. “Damn, too many of ‘em to just shoot from here, we would waste too much ammo and the shotty won’t reach that far,” Chris noted.
“Plus it would be too loud, we would attract all of them here,” Ashleigh chimed in. She squinted across the road at them. “Look at them; they’re leaving the cattle alone. Why won’t they eat them?”
“Cows don’t smell like us. All the movies I ever saw say that they can smell us. I guess they were right.” Chris noted.
“Well I guess we need to go inside and be quiet then,” Buffey observed, and began to move inside slowly. Chris and Ashleigh followed. They were outnumbered nearly ten to one. The three moved inside quietly and barred the door behind them. They each looked at one another trying to think of a plan between the three.
“We have to do something about them. If we don’t they are gonna get in here and tear us to pieces and that is really gonna make things worse for all of us,” Chris said.
“What about the T-Rex?” Buffey suggested. In all the confusion they had forgot about the T-Rex. Buffey and Joe had bought the ATV almost a year ago and had not go much use out of it other than joy rides around the yard in the snow during winter and giving some of the neighbors kids a ride. It had a roll cage and a steering wheel unlike a traditional four-wheeler. The T-Rex was not too loud, especially compared to the noise that shooting at the undead would make. Buffey formulated a pl
an that would keep them out of danger, as well as dispatching the dead. Buffey would drive, and Chris would ride shotgun. Chris could use the machete Joe had to decapitate the ghouls. The zombies were undoubtedly from a cemetery that was near the house. The plot was down a dirt road and people would not find it unless they were looking for it. The current amount of walking dead that was approaching the house made up nearly all of the residents of the cemetery. They moved inside and fine-tuned their plan. Buffey would run out to the ATV with Chris, Ashleigh would cover from the porch, and if anything should happen to the two while they were out, Ashleigh would fall back to the house and take care of Rick until Joe arrived. The latter part of the plan did not sit well with Buffey, she did not want Rick to be left without her, but the greater threat was the undead approaching. She needed to take care of them to take care of him.
Chris and Buffey both put on Joe’s ACU’s, complete with boots, and waited by the door. Ashleigh clutched the shotgun in her hand anxiously. She had not held a gun much by the age of 22 and did so now reluctantly. Chris peered out the doorway and sized up their targets. They were slowly making their way across the road onto the driveway to the house. Chris figured they could outrun nearly all of them. They had been dead quite some time and did not move with any quickness the way the firefighter that Chris had killed in town earlier. This fact was not lost on Chris. He had assumed the ones that came out of the ground that had been dead a while were a considerable bit slower than the recently turned dead they had encountered before. He counted eighteen zombies that he could see. He grabbed the machete, turned to Buffey, and nodded. She nodded back, ready to go.
They crept out of the house slowly and made their way to their objective. There were no zombies in their path so they quickened their pace and made it to the T-Rex in a few seconds. Buffey jumped in the driver’s seat and started it up. The sound of the engine coming to life attracted the attention of several of the undead, and they turned to meet the noise. Buffey stomped the gas and the ATV sprang forward. Chris perched up on the passenger’s seat and readied the machete. Buffey turned the vehicle toward the oncoming dead. She spun the wheel and headed in the direction of the first few of the assailants. Chris reared back the machete and swung at the first zombie, connecting with it in the mouth and severing the head neatly in half. He then turned the blade forward in a joust-like manner and speared the next one between the eyes. Buffey continued the vehicle forward and ran over two more of the zombies, crushing the skull of one and splattering another on the brush guard on the front of the ATV. Buffey turned toward the end of the driveway and met five more of the undead head-on. Chris feverishly swung at the undead haphazardly and connected with two of them in the face, dropping them instantly. Another was crushed by the brush guard of the T-Rex as Buffey turned away from the group.
Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3 Page 6
