“You doin’ okay?” Donnie asked as he patted Joe on the back.
“No, not really to be honest” Joe replied, not looking toward his friend as he did.
“Look, I know you are gonna feel guilty about this. Even though we tried to stop you, it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t the right thing to do. If you hadn’t done that he might have done something worse, and God knows we can’t be takin’ prisoners. He would have killed us the first chance he got.”
“Yeah, I know,” Joe, said as he flipped the butt of the cigarette onto the lawn. “Still doesn’t make it any better.”
Jamie and Andrew came back up to the house. “Let’s get inside, get warm, and get some rest finally,” Donnie suggested. He got no argument from the men as they quickly filed inside of the house, closed, and dead bolted the door. The men went into the living room of the house, just to the left of the entrance. There were two couches and a recliner there. Donnie sat on one of the couches and took a deep breath. He was still in pain, but not having taken any pain medication for the last few hours was already taking its toll on him. Joe sat his pack and rifle down and looked around.
“Well let’s hope that if there was anything here we would have heard it by now, but just in case it didn’t hear us we need to clear this house before we decide to get any sleep. Plus we need to scavenge anything of use. Jamie, you up for a room clearing?”
“Sure, how you wanna do it?”
“Sidearms only. I’m already tired of carrying all this shit around and I want to get my shit dry before the morning so let’s see what we can find to help that along”
“Well, there is a fireplace over here in the other room” Andrew said as he entered the room.
“We get some wood to burn we can dry off our shit and get warm. I feel fuckin’ waterlogged as hell, so let’s bust up some of the furniture, and get this going.”
“Okay, me and Jamie clear the upstairs; you and Donnie get some wood or whatever you can find to burn. If you do get a fire going, don’t let it get too bright. I don’t want anything gettin’ fuckin’ curious and seein’ what’s up in here.” Jamie grounded his gear in the living room and headed with Joe up the first floor landing and on up to the second floor. Andrew and Donnie dropped their packs and weapons as well and started looking for anything to burn. Andrew went into the kitchen adjacent to the living room, took three wooden chairs from there, and moved them into the living room with the fireplace. He and Donnie began breaking apart and making kindling out of the chairs.
Joe and Jamie headed upstairs with their sidearms and flashlights to clear out the rooms. Joe went upstairs first, leading along with his flashlight. He turned and looked up as he and Jamie were on the first floor landing. Joe crept up to the top of the staircase. There was a bedroom immediately across from the top of the stairs, and a bathroom to their right. The door was ajar on the bedroom as they slowly made their way toward it. Joe’s heart was racing. He didn’t think that they would find anyone else in the house, but the possibility of it petrified him anyway. He pushed the door open on the bedroom and scanned around. He did not see anything, other than some blankets and pillows on the bed. He breathed a large sigh and grabbed up the items, then turned and tossed them over the railing down to the ground floor. It was by far not extremely cold out yet this time of year, but they would need to take their clothes off to dry and a good dry blanket would be indispensable. They scanned the bedroom and closet and found nothing and no one. Joe left the room and moved to the bathroom. Jamie moved in front and stopped suddenly.
The bathtub was full of blood.
There were handprints on the side of the tub as well as in the shower stall. Jamie’s flashlight moved about the room looking at the bloody mess that was in the bathroom. Jamie moved forward slowly, and Joe walked in behind him and looked around with his flashlight.
“Jesus Christ, dude. Looks like someone killed themselves in here.” Joe scanned the room and eventually landed on the bathtub. “You don’t think James did this?”
“I think he might have. Need to find out if it’s still in there,” Jamie said as he aimed his 9mm at the back of the tub, where the head should be. He cocked the hammer back and inched closer to the edge of the blood-filled tub. He moved his flashlight in his left hand and crossed it under his right hand, holding his gun in a tactical manner. Joe aimed his pistol at the head of the tub as he moved to Jamie’s right, looking in the tub for any sign of movement. If there was anything in it, it was not moving. Joe tapped Jamie on the shoulder and pointed to the towel rack in the bathroom.
“I’m gonna get the rod off of that rack and poke it in there. You keep watching. If there is anything in there we fuckin’ blast it!” Jamie nodded, and turned back toward the tub. Joe reached over, grabbed the towel rack, and gave it a hard yank. It freed with just one pull. Joe took the end of the rack, stuck it in the water, and slowly moved it around. A hand came up, grabbed the end of the towel rod, and pulled.
“HOLY SHIT!” Joe screamed as it pulled him towards the tub. He immediately let go of it and fell back, dropping his pistol. Jamie was so stunned at the exchange that he did not fire. He looked back at Joe on the bathroom floor and slowly turned back towards the tub. His flashlight met a black haired woman. She was covered in blood and had not been dead long. She now rose as one of the undead and snarled at Jamie as he stared into her black, unblinking eyes. “SHOOT HER!” Joe screamed.
Jamie snapped out of his daze and stood up. He took a step back and blasted two shots into the woman’s head, splattering her brains all over the back of the ceramic tile bathtub. Jamie turned back to Joe, his gun still trained on the body.
“Holy shit, dude. Wonder why it didn’t come down when we made all that racket?" Joe said as he quickly got to his feet.
”If it was underwater it wouldn‘t have. Jesus, man look at her wrists.” There were two large cuts on each wrist. Vertical, not horizontal like everyone tries. The suicidal woman had done it right, slicing from her wrist nearly to her elbow and deep enough to see the faint bleach white glimpse of bone.
“She bumped herself off, looks like.” Jamie was still shaking from the scare that the zombie had given him.
Andrew ran upstairs, rifle in hand, with Donnie hobbling along behind him. “What the hell was that? You guys all right?”
“Yeah, some bitch offed herself in the tub,” Joe said, moving out of the doorway and into the hall. “We’re fine, just scared the shit out of me is all.”
Donnie called out from below on the landing. “Well we got some stuff for firewood, should last us at least through the night.”
“Sounds good, you guys get it going, we’re gonna finish up here and be down in a few minutes.”
Andrew and Donnie both went back downstairs. Jamie stood at the top of the banister and leaned over it, pistol still in hand. Joe patted him on the ribs, “Come on, we can rest when we get this done. I see a couple more rooms; let’s just hope none of ‘em is occupied.” Jamie nodded and followed Joe to the next set of rooms down the hallway. There was another bedroom at the end of the hallway to the left and to the right. Each man took a room apiece and emerged in the hallway a few minutes later. Joe came out with two more blankets and a handful of towels. Jamie was holding a box of 7mm rifle shells as he came out of the room.
“Gun case is empty aside from these. Looks like the man of the house had a shotgun or two. Must’ve taken the shells with him, though cause there’s nothin’ in there.”
“Alright, then. We should go downstairs, be dried off, and get some damn food. I’m starved.”
“Damn dude.”
“What?”
“Well you just killed a guy not ten minutes ago, and now you’re hungry. Kinda fucked up don’t you think?” Jamie looked at Joe quizzically, one eyebrow raised. Joe shined the flashlight to where he could see Jamie’s face and stepped forward.
“Nothing, and I mean nothing, will keep me from getting home. Anyone or anything that gets in my way from now on i
s gonna end up the same way James did. Dead.” Joe frowned at his friend. “If you had family you would understand.” Joe moved past Jamie, who stood musing his comment. Jamie began to get angry.
“What the hell is that ‘sposed to mean? Just because I’m not married and have kids doesn’t mean that I want to get you home any more than you do. If it weren’t for my guns, none of us would have made it out of town. Even you.”
Joe paused on the staircase. Jamie was right, without the firepower that they had, none of them would have made it. “Look I’m not being ungrateful; I just want to go home.” Jamie walked down the stairs and met Joe there.
“Then try not to go off the rails again, okay? I know you scared the shit out of me back there and I’m sure that you did Andrew and Donnie” Jamie tapped Joe on the forehead. “Just got to keep your head right until you get home. Then you can fall apart all you want.” Jamie stepped by Joe and on downstairs. Joe sat down on the step he was standing on and instantly burst into tears. None of the stress of the last 36 hours had gotten to him yet. They all came in a flood of emotion as he put his head in his hands and silently wept. He missed his wife and his son. The separation anxiety that flooded him was unbearable. He had never been so close to a mental breakdown, something that never happened in zombie movies or books or any of it. The “hero" was invincible, and did not have time to be sitting in the dark on a staircase, bawling. He was not invincible, though, and he let the last of it out and wiped his face off. They needed a vehicle if he was going to get home to his loved ones, and tomorrow they would go looking for one. For now, though he needed to eat and get his strength. He vigorously wiped his face to destroy any evidence of the trauma he was experiencing inside. He was going to fall apart if he did not make it home soon.
Joe took a deep breath and went downstairs to his waiting colleagues. Andrew had a small fire built in the fireplace, and was feeding it small parts of what Joe thought to be a dining room chair. The three men looked up as Joe came down the steps and took a seat next to his friends. They were just as weary as he was, but seemed to be holding it together. Joe went over to his gear and took it over to the fireplace to dry off. He got into his pack and got out one of the MRE’s that he had put in there yesterday morning. Southwest chicken with black beans was not his favorite, but under the circumstances, he did not care. He tore it open and placed it in the water-activated heater. Andrew was already eating into his MRE as well, and asking for more.
“I wouldn’t do that, dude,” Joe said, “Eat more than one of those things a day and you won’t shit for a week, and when you do it’s like giving birth to a frozen turkey.” The comment got snickers from all of his colleagues. Andrew stopped eating the MRE he was on and set it down.
“On second thought, I think that will do for the night then.” The four men exchanged smirks then laughed heartily at him as they continued to eat. Joe’s nerves began to slowly settle. He tore open the pack with the wet wipes in the MRE and began to wash his face and hands off. There was no telling how much disease that the dead were carrying aside from the infection.
The four men finished eating. The fire was keeping them warm and for the first time since the dead started walking they were able to relax for a little while. Joe had taken some paracord that he had in his personal pack and made a makeshift clothesline across the front of the fireplace. All of the men had taken their pants and shirts and strung them on the line, trying to dry the wetness that had soaked them all day. They each had taken their boots off and put them near the fireplace as well. Joe looked at his pruned feet as he pulled the rain-drenched socks off them. His feet ached. He rubbed them as he sat in front of the fire and dried off with one of the towels that he had procured from upstairs.
“Well, I hate to bring it up, but we gonna need guard duty. I will do the first shift, if that’s cool with ya’ll.” Joe looked up at his colleagues as he asked for volunteers, and was met with a disdained look from all three. Andrew was the first to speak up.
“Do we really need guards tonight? I mean, we are indoors finally and I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sleep for shit last night and I didn’t sleep for shit the night before all of this started. I am tired as hell and I don’t want my sleep interrupted for once.”
Joe looked at his other friends. “Is that what the rest of you think?”
“He does have a point,” Jamie said. “We are gonna need some decent rest tonight if we plan on getting anywhere tomorrow. And I’m with Andrew. My dogs are barkin’.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Joe barked, and rose to his feet. “We have been on the road for less than 24 hours! We have been on our feet for a whole hell of a lot less than that!”
“Yeah, no shit dude. We aren’t all weekend warriors either. I’m not used to all this shit!” Andrew was visibly upset now. He held his arm out towards Joe. “I didn’t sign any fuckin’ contract that said I have to do shit! Carrying all this shit in the piss pouring rain is bad enough. Combine that with dodging zombies and crazy-ass ex-employees I believe that I have earned at least a good night’s sleep.”
Joe clenched his jaw then opened his mouth to lash out at Andrew when he looked at Jamie and remembered what he had just told him not ten minutes before. Don’t go off the rails. If he wants to sleep, let him.
“Okay, you’re right.” Joe held up his hands in surrender and bowed his head. “It goes against my better judgment, but I guess I will concede for tonight. As far as the other shit goes, we are going to find a car tomorrow.” Joe looked back up at Andrew, and he was now much more relaxed.
“Thanks, Sergeant Hardass.” The sarcasm in his voice was not lost on Joe, but he did want to get some rest as well. Andrew lay on the couch opposite Joe and rolled over. Joe settled in and pulled the blanket around him. The warmth of the fire and the blanket combined with being dry for the first time all day were one of the best feelings he had in a long time. He fought sleep at first, trying to stay on guard, such as it was. He did not last long, and fell asleep within minutes. He went to sleep with determination for the next day. They were going to find some transport tomorrow, come hell or high water.
CHAPTER 10
Buffey stared out the kitchen window of the trailer. She had done so all day in anticipation of Joe showing up any minute. Any minute had lasted all day long, with no sign of Joe yet. She had no way of getting hold of him. The cellphone conversation that she had with him before they were cut off was the last communication that she had with the outside world. Chris and Ashleigh had divulged as much information as they could about their occurrence with the zombies at the grocery store. She sighed and closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them that she would see headlights coming up the driveway. She opened them back up and did not see anything. The moon was out, giving some light onto the yard out front. She looked around and did not see any movement. Buffey stepped away from the window and set down on the kitchen table. A single candle burned on the table, giving them a little light in the room. Chris, Ashleigh, and Rickey had all fallen asleep already. Buffey had volunteered again for the first guard shift of the night. She did not expect to wake up Chris or Ashleigh for the other shifts. She did not sleep well with Joe gone, and now was no exception. She would let them sleep for the night and get some well-needed rest. She would keep watch over them tonight. Buffey always felt like the den mother and now more so than ever. She had made sure that Rickey was cleaned up before he went to bed. She also reminded Chris and Ashleigh that they would need to brush their teeth regularly now because of the lack of a good dentist. She didn’t want them getting sick, or worse, from something as simple as an abscessed tooth. They had obliged, each rinsing with mouthwash from the back bathroom. Ashleigh had sworn that she heard something in the bathroom, and it sounded like it was near the end of the trailer with the spare bedroom that they had left alone. Chris and Buffey did not want to venture out late at night, and did not hear the sound themselves. They decided to leave it for the night. If there were something outs
ide it would have to wait until morning.
* * *
Rickey was the first to wake in the morning. Buffey noticed he slept well throughout the night. She did not wake Chris or Ashleigh in the night for guard duty either and they both slept like rocks. Rickey stirred and got out from under his covers. He was wearing nothing but his underwear. Buffey had to laugh at her son. She had tried to get him to wear clothes as much as possible, but the boy always wanted to be nearly nude. Even playing outside in the fall and winter, she would have to remind him to put pants on or that he would freeze to death. He would grudgingly oblige and go put some on, usually after much debate. He got up and saw Buffey sitting in the recliner. She had not slept much the night before, managing only forty-five minutes here and an hour there. She did not hear any sounds in the night. Buffey smiled as she saw Rickey getting up.
“Mornin’, babe.” She whispered to Rickey in hopes that he would remember that he needed to be quiet this morning and eventually learn to keep his voice down.
“Mornin’, mommy,” he whispered back. Buffey gave him the thumbs up. He was remembering his surroundings. It was a good thing too, as the rain had let up outside some. It was now a slow drizzle and somewhat foggy outside in the early morning hours. Rickey went past Buffey to the pantry and got his morning Pop-Tart and bottle of water. Buffey was impressed. She had tried to make him be more independent before the world had gone to hell. Now that it had, Rickey seemed to be adapting better.
Chris woke a little over an hour after Rickey had, followed by Ashleigh. They both went silently to the pantry and got their cheap, cold breakfast as well. They did not seem as enthusiastic this morning.
“Look, it might not be the best time, but I am bored as hell” Chris chuckled as he sat at the table and addressed Buffey and Ashleigh.
“Well, there’s not much we can do ‘til Joe gets here,” Buffey replied.
Chris turned and faced Buffey. “Actually there is, and it would help two different problems. We need some kind of early warning system. Especially seeing as how we can never see outside first thing in the morning or at night. That is a lot of time to be blind.”
Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3 Page 11
