“Let’s roll!” shouted Joe from the back. He and Andrew had managed to get in the back of the truck without firing a shot and now eagerly awaited Jamie.
“Ain’t got to tell me twice!” Jamie said as he put the truck into gear and moved out of the driveway, taking two more zombies with him. They were now on the road.
The men breathed a collective sigh of relief as they turned down towards the center of town. “Well, that was the most terrifying thing I believe I’ve ever done in my life,” Donnie quipped as they made their way down the streets of Tazewell. He leaned back in the passenger’s seat and lit up a cigarette.
“Yeah no shit. I really don’t wanna have to do that again anytime soon.” Joe responded. His heart was racing as well. In the movies, he had seen it was not possible to tell what the character was feeling on the inside. Now that circumstances were reversed, it was a different story. Joe had always imagined that if he was the “hero” character in the movies that he would be able to hold himself up pretty well against the teeming hordes of the undead. He had done well with their current situation, but did not want to make a habit of it. He hoped that when the time came that he had to defend himself that he would not be let down by his own fear.
Joe eased over to the window and looked out to the passing surroundings. Jamie was not flying through town, which was a smart move. The last thing they needed was to his some random debris on the road, which there was plenty of. Abandoned vehicles littered the sides of the streets, some on fire. The haphazard way that they were sitting was indicative of the mass panic that had erupted. So many family members were trying to get to their loved ones at area hospitals that they had jammed the main roads, hence the men’s trip toward the outskirts of town to a less-traveled path. Joe observed a few dozen more zombies and apparently, Jamie was having no problems running the ones in his path over. The occasional whump sound of flesh meeting Dodge meant that they were oblivious to the oncoming truck. Joe sat back down, reached into his pocket, pulled his pack of smokes out, and lit one. The Virginia Office of EMS would not be filing a complaint about smoking in an ambulance anytime soon. The feeling was strange to him, of lawlessness and anarchy. Joe took a long drag on his cigarette and breathed the fire out of his lungs. He was thankful that he had an extra carton in his bag as well. He thought that it would be a shitty time to quit smoking, and then smiled quietly to himself. Those anti-tobacco assholes were probably being eaten by some undead smoker right now. He finished it, crushed out the butt, and tried to sleep, but he was interrupted by the feeling of the truck slowing down.
“Guys, I think we got a problem here.” Jamie said nervously.
“What the fuck are they doing?” Donnie said, staring ahead.
“Oh shit. It’s happening already.” Joe chimed in as he peered through the windshield at the menace that was in front of them.
Now what? He thought.
The headlights of Unit 41 fell upon the armada of police vehicles and guns that were in front of Joe. The sky that was turning from dusk to dark quickly in the fall afternoon gave an eerie sense of the sun setting on something more than just the town. There were men in front of the vehicles, smoking and carrying on. They took a quick notice to the approaching ambulance and quickly assembled in front of the vehicles and readied their weapons. He did not think that the people that were now using those vehicles and weapons were men of the law, though. There were two Explorer SUV’s blocking the road as well as an armored Virginia State Police bomb disposal unit sitting askew in the road in front of them. The men that were now in possession of the armament of the police however did not look like the Wyatt Earp type. They were carrying a variety of assault rifles and shotguns, and they did not look like they wanted to negotiate. It was vigilante justice, just merely 12 hours after the world had started to go to shit, and men already were taking the law into their own hands. Jamie had rounded a corner into the OK Corral, outnumbered, and out-gunned. He slowly put the truck in Park and waited.
“What’s our move guys?” Jamie asked, wanting a quick answer. None of the men had a response.
“We go out there, weapons at our sides. Safeties off. Be ready to defend yourself if need be.” Joe whispered. He did not want to incite the men by coming out and showing force. Perhaps they could be reasoned with.
“If we have to bust out of here go through the SUV’s. We will never budge that EOD truck.” Joe said to Jamie and he nodded. The likelihood of this encounter turning to their advantage was becoming slimmer as time went on and Joe wanted to be ready for the inevitable chase scene.
“They don’t look like they want to talk, dude,” Andrew said, “but the longer we stay in here the antsier they are gonna get.”
The men knew Andrew was right and slowly moved out of the vehicle, weapons slung. They approached the men with their hands up as to say we just want to talk. Joe looked around and counted nine men, each armed with a rifle or shotgun and wearing police body armor. As he drew closer to them, he noticed that most of the men had beards. He knew from his experience with the police that most departments did not allow facial hair other than a mustache. A man dressed in blue jeans and a bulletproof vest who appeared to be the group’s leader approached Joe. He noticed at that point that his three companions had inadvertently made him their leader. He was now about five paces ahead of them. Joe grinned in spite of himself and turned to face the man that approached him. He noticed that the man had his finger on the trigger guard of his shotgun that he carried.
“Something funny there street doc?” Said the man, although he did not look like he was in the mood for jokes.
“No, just trying to get out of town like everybody else. What are you guys still doing here?” Joe responded, turning towards the man.
“Well, seeing as how the pigs done left the town already, we figger that means that WE are the new fuzz around here,” said the man, bragging. “And we say that everybody that wants outta town is gonna have to give us somethin’ in return for our ‘services’ seein’ as how money ain’t gonna be worth shit anymore.”
“Look, we don’t have a whole hell of a lot of anything, other than medical supplies. If any of your people are hurt we will patch ‘em up and be on our way.”
“Naw, we ain’t hurt. We gonna need a ‘fix’ though before too long,” said the man looking back to his gang and chuckling. They joined in unison, laughing.
“Yeah its ‘scription medicine, I swear! Tell ‘em, J.W.!” One of the men quipped.
“How’s about you give us all your good drugs off that meat wagon. Then we let you go.” The man now known as J.W. smiled like the Cheshire Cat and held up two fingers. “Scouts honor.”
Joe knew damn well that the men would not stop at just the “good drugs” as J.W. had put it. They would want their gear, weapons, ammo, hell everything short of the ambulance. Even at that, they might take the truck as well. The men would be back at square one, unarmed, and without transport.
“Okay, let me talk it over with my friends here and we will see what we can do.” Joe turned to walk to his comrades when he heard the shotgun rack behind of him. He froze in his tracks.
“Ain’t nothin’ to discuss, asshole. You give us what we want or we pop your ass right here and now. Fork over your fuckin’ shit before I lose my fuckin’ patience!”
Joe knew that the situation was going to spiral out of control shortly unless they handed over the meds that they were going to need later on. He did not want to give it to the vigilante junkies that were now blocking his path, but he did not see an alternative solution. Joe looked up to the sky that had now turned dark an heard more thunder as the storms that had skirted them all day now were going to blow in full force. He turned back to the man now holding a Mossberg 12-gauge at his head. He put up his hands in surrender.
“Okay, but the meds only. We keep our guns, ammo, and gear. And our truck.” The confidence in his voice was misleading. Joe was scared shitless, but he did not let his voice crack. Any sign of weakness
to these wolves and they would jump in for the kill and take what they wanted.
“Well, seein as how you wastin’ my time, you wastin’ my money too. And seein’ as how money don’t mean shit, imma take what the fuck I want. You done wasted my time, asshole, so hand over them guns too.” His men began to take notice of the escalation of the situation, turned and began to slowly make their way to the four medics. Joe immediately pulled up his AR-15 and pointed it at J.W., knowing full well what was about to happen.
“Look, maybe you don’t get it. We keep our shit and you assholes get your drugs. That’s it!” Joe said, now beginning to feel the adrenaline pump through his veins. He was shaking and felt like he could barely hold himself up. Nervous Iraqis he could handle, good ‘ol boys with bad intentions he could not. He was in a Mexican standoff. J.W.’s men had raised their weapons as well. A palpable tension hung in the air as the four men scanned each one of J.W.’s cronies. They each looked as nervous as Joe, Donnie, Andrew, and Jamie.
“You know this isn’t gonna end well for any of us. Let us go or...” Joe was interrupted by a blinding flash of blue light followed by a loud crack of thunder. Lightning had struck the transformer behind Joe, blinding J.W.’s men as well as setting off a cacophony of gunfire from his men. The four medics dropped down and froze, their weapons clattering against the pavement. The vigilantes were blinded and nearly deaf and firing haphazardly in all directions. One of the men turned and shot another, as he was moving toward him. The blast from the shotgun nearly tore him in half as he spun around, spraying blood all over the blue lights of the police cars.
Joe realized that they would not get this opportunity twice. He quickly recovered from his not-so-graceful dive onto the pavement. “MOVE!” he shouted to his comrades as he scurried up onto his feet and made for the truck. He jumped into the driver’s seat as the other three men clambered into the back of the truck. Joe heard the doors slam as the ricochet of gunfire exploded around him. He slammed the door on the ambulance and spun back to his compatriots in the rear of the unit.
“Are we good?” he asked of the men.
“YES! For God’s sake let’s go!” Jamie shouted from the back of the truck.
Joe threw the truck into gear and made a beeline path between the two police SUV’s that were blocking his path. J.W.’s men were recovering from Mother Nature’s flash bang and were beginning to take notice of their situation. Their blind fire became more focused as they started littering the side of Unit 41 with gunfire. Joe ducked down as the hail of bullets became more intense. He aimed the truck through the only hole he could see in the vigilante’s line of defense, between the two SUV’s. In the back of the truck Andrew, Donnie, and Jamie began returning fire through the now blown-out windows. They fired indiscriminately in all directions as the bullet-torn ambulance made its way. Joe glanced up as he was about to nail the barricade and shouted to his friends to hold on. He fumbled the seat belt and wrapped his arm around it to keep from flying into the dash as they hit the barrier. The force knocked Joe under the dash as the airbag went off with a loud POW and a large plume of cornstarch. Joe winced as he was thrust under the steering wheel as the truck continued forward. He reached down with his hand and emphatically shoved the gas pedal, speeding the truck up and away from their attackers. The truck lurched forward. The spatter of gunfire was behind them now as they sped off. Joe quickly regained his bearings, scrambled out from under the dash, and righted himself. He grabbed the steering wheel and stomped the gas, putting more distance between him and danger. He looked in the rearview mirror as they sped away and noticed that the belligerents were not giving chase.
“Thank God for small favors," Joe said as he leaned back and gave a sigh of relief.
Joe made his way out of town and turned on to Route 16, the curvy road that would lead him closer home. Joe did not bother looking back after their run-in with vigilante justice and proceeded down their intended path for a few minutes. He began to notice that his friends were still hurrying about in the back of the truck even after they had left their would-be attackers far in the rearview. He slowed the truck after he noticed that his mates were moving about as if they were doing a call. Joe saw an IV bag hanging as the blood was drawn from his face and realized what had happened. One of his friends was wounded, and the others were taking care of the injured man.
“What’s going on back there guys? Who’s hit?”
Andrew stuck his head between the front and back areas of the ambulance with a panicked look. “Donnie took one to the hip; it looks pretty shitty right now. Good news is that it’s a through and through. Jamie and I are patching him up now.” The blood feverishly returned to Joe’s face. He was enraged that the lawless bastards that wanted their damn drugs so bad that they would kill for it.
DING. DING. DING. DING. DING.
“What the hell? Dammit!” The dummy lights on the dash of Unit 41 lit up like a Christmas tree.
Check Engine. Low Oil Pressure.
Joe looked back at his colleagues still working in the back of the truck. They were still tending to their wounded friend, Donnie. He reaffirmed the white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. He knew the truck was not going to last, especially not long enough to get them to their intended destination. His mind began racing through all of his options. If they ditched the truck they would lose not only their mobility but also now they would not be able to transport Donnie. He was in no shape to be walking, which was the only other viable way, at least until they could get another car. If they could get another car. Joe kept driving, knowing it would go any second. He did not have to wait long. The engine began to make a knocking racket as white smoke started to pour out from underneath the hood and out the tailpipe. He eased the truck along for another half mile before the engine finally gave up and went the way of the ghost. Jamie stuck his head through the front of the truck.
“Ah, um, please tell me that wasn’t the truck crapping out on us.” He looked and studied Joe’s solemn face. Jamie knew they were dead in the water.
Joe pulled the truck over to the side of the road and parked as the engine made its last efforts to stay amongst the living. It died with a loud grind of metal on metal as the last bit of oil drained out of it. Joe turned off the ignition but left the headlights on. No sense in not knowing what was coming. Joe reached over, grabbed his AR-15, and cautiously opened the door. The sound of crickets chirping and the low rumble of thunder was all he was greeted with. The evening was completely faded now and dark had descended on the travelers. He scanned the area and listened for the sounds of the walking dead. He heard none. Joe went around to the back of the truck and opened the door. As he climbed in Donnie was lying on the stretcher, with an IV still in his arm. The lanky, black haired man looked well beyond his age. The color was drained from his face as he lay in the back of the unit. Donnie halfheartedly looked up as Joe opened the door. He looked as a man with defeated eyes, sunken and listless. He made a weak gesture to Joe that he was OK and laid his head back down on the stretcher.
“As ya’ll can probably tell, we are not going anywhere anytime soon. We are gonna have to move out on foot.”
“Dude, I don’t think that Donnie is going anywhere anytime soon. We will have to get another truck or try and fix this one.” Andrew said.
“Well fixing this one is out of the question. We have no oil and it sounded like the engine was seizing up, it’s not going to happen. We took a lot of fire from those assholes and we are lucky to be alive.” Joe was irritated that his friend could not see what was plainly going on. Ever the optimist, Andrew did not want to come face to face with the fact that they were not able to do anything about their current situation. Andrew dejectedly sank his head and sagged his shoulders.
Jamie turned solemnly to Joe. “Okay, seeing as how we kinda made you our leader by accident back there, what’s our next move?”
“The best I can come up with is we stay the night in the truck and rest up. Especially Donnie. We make our way out o
n foot in the morning and see if we can find a car with some keys, unless anybody knows how to hotwire us a ride?” Joe got defeated looks and both Andrew and Jamie shook their heads NO. “Alright then, let’s have one person awake for watch; we will rotate every four hours. If you see more than one of those dead fuckers, wake the others up. If it’s just one, let them pass unless they notice us.” Joe glanced down at the faux diamond plated floor. It was still covered with a substantial amount of blood. “And we got to clean that shit up. Those fuckers will smell that and be all over us.” Andrew soaked in this information from Joe then turned to Jamie and nodded. Andrew grabbed disinfectant wipes and began cleaning up the mess in the back of the truck while Jamie volunteered for the first shift watch.
After Joe helped Andrew clean up the mess in the back of the rig, both men tried to doze off and forget the day’s events. Neither one would forget what had happened during the last 16 hours, which seemed like ages now. The rain now spattered against the metal roof of the ambulance providing much needed assistance as Joe and Andrew finally faded off into sleep.
CHAPTER 8
Rain pattered the outside of Unit 41 as it sit on the side of the road along route 16, just outside of the Town of Tazewell. The four men that occupied that ambulance were fast asleep, unaware of the devastation that had happened elsewhere the night before. Their own personal piece of hell was pale in comparison to the havoc that had been perpetrated since night had fallen on the walking dead. The world had gone to shit so fast that despite all of the modern technology and services, life as people knew it had disappeared in less than 24 hours. The US Army had been overrun by the living dead in that span of time. When GI Joe has to kill his neighbor and their undead children, orders go right out the window. Soldiers turned on each other as the hierarchy of military brass failed to keep order as chaos spread like wildfire on a dry California forest. The actual wildfire in California was just beginning, however. With no public safety or Forestry Service, the fire would go on unabated for as long as it wanted to.
Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3 Page 8
