Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3
Page 15
Andrew was tense as he sat in the passenger seat, closest to the door. The three men had all managed to get in the front of the pickup after tossing their gear into the bed. They had kept their rifles with them in case of an attack like with J.W. and his merry band of goons. Andrew gripped the AR-15 tightly as he stared at the front of the house. He turned towards Joe and Jamie with a forlorn look on his face.
“What if she didn’t make it? What if she left with her parents? They only live a few miles away. I don’t know if I can deal with this if she’s not in there or worse...” He trailed off and snapped back to the front of the house. Jamie patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. He did not have to say anything; he knew what Andrew was thinking. Joe did as well. Neither one of them wanted to think of what Andrew might have to go through once he opened the door to the house.
“We will go up to the door with you and stand guard. You have to do this, though. You’ll never know if you never go in. And whatever happens, happens,” Joe said, trying to instill some courage in the frightened young man.
Andrew nodded his head slowly, grabbed the door handle, and set foot outside of the truck. Jamie slid out the passenger side as Joe moved from the driver’s seat and followed them to the front of the house. The day was eerily quiet. No birds chirping, no sound of traffic, and most of all no sounds of the undead. The three men looked about and listened for a few second before moving to the side of the house where the driveway entrance was. Joe and Jamie stopped at the bottom of the steps and let Andrew pass between them as he nervously made his way to the door.
Andrew gripped the handle and looked to the sky, then back to his friends. They both gave him a reassuring nod and motioned to the house. Andrew took a deep breath and a long exhale and opened the door with a swift motion. He stepped inside his all-too-familiar home and looked around. There was no sign of a rush to get out or any signal that alerted him to anything having gone wrong. There were two DVD’s sitting on the coffee table in the living room that he had rented before leaving for work a few days earlier. He moved about the living room and into the spacious kitchen. Dishes in the sink, and the last bit of mail that he had got from the mailbox sat on the breakfast nook. Nothing out of the ordinary. He wanted to call out to his wife, but did not for fear of attracting any unwanted attention. He looked to his left at the hallway that led to the master bedroom of the house.
The door was closed.
And locked.
* * *
Joe and Jamie stood outside in the cool air, waiting for their friend to come out of the house and declare that everything was fine and that they could go when they wanted to. Joe fidgeted from the moment Andrew had walked inside, and finally had reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He hadn’t had the luxury of having a smoke for quite some time now and the increase of endorphins in his body was a welcome event. Jamie stood motionless, still waiting to hear any kind of indication that anything was going on. Joe paced around, feverishly puffing on the cigarette. Jamie motioned to Joe as he paced back and forth. Joe dropped the butt and crushed it under his foot. He exhaled the last of the nicotine as he approached Jamie.
“What is it? You hear something?”
“No, that’s just it. I haven’t heard shit. I know it looks like a decent sized house and all but if he had found anything out we’d know about it by now.” Jamie stared back towards the door. “If she was smart she’d have stayed put n’ waited.”
Joe looked back at the house as well. An uneasy feeling crept over him as he watched the lifeless home. Andrew’s wife was an RN. She might have been called into work during all of this. God help her if she had gone ahead with it. Andrew had been called in as well, but did not mention whether or not his wife had been summoned to do work for the common good as her husband had. Both men stood silently. A crackle of gunfire in the distance momentarily distracted their attention. They turned around to the sound off in the distance. A closer shot rang out.
A shot from inside the house.
Then another.
Then silence again.
Joe and Jamie spun around to the door of the house. Without hesitation, they both rushed inside. Joe ran in first and scanned the living room for Andrew or his wife. There was no sound or movement and the smell of cordite was in the air. Jamie darted into the kitchen, as much as his large frame would let him. He quickly looked about in the kitchen, and then turned to face the long hallway that led to what looked to be bedrooms.
“Andrew!” Jamie hissed, keeping his voice down, but needing his friend to respond.
Joe sniffed the air. The smell of cordite was there, but there was also another familiar smell. In his years in EMS Joe had discovered that there were certain smells that you could not get out of your nose. The smell of burning flesh was one, the smell of diabetic ketoacidosis was another. Then there was always the smell of gray matter from the brain. The sickly sweet smell with a metallic twinge to it was unmistakable. Joe’s heart sank.
Jamie moved down the hallway to the bedroom cautiously. Joe fell in behind of him and clasped a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Startled, Jamie looked back to the upset look on Joe’s face. “What is it? You find something?”
Joe closed his eyes and shook his head no. “Smell the air.”
Jamie did as he was told and turned his nose up and sniffed at the air. Instantly, he knew what Joe was talking about. The scent of brain matter permeated their senses. Joe switched on the flashlight on the end of his rifle and made his way into the bedroom at the end of the hallway. He knew that something bad had gone down, and was praying it was not Andrew that had paid the price for it. He crept up to the door with Jamie in tow, his flashlight leading the way into the room. The light first fell on the bed. It took a few seconds for Joe’s eyes to adjust to the light as the curtains had been drawn, letting very little in the way of illumination into the room. The bed was unkempt and clothes had been scattered about. There were signs of what appeared to be a struggle. Joe moved the light around in the room. There was a walk-in closet in the corner of the room and another door off to his right. The scent that they had noticed before was stronger now, filling the room and their senses with a sick smell. Jamie moved past Joe and towards the bathroom. He pushed the door open and staggered back.
“Oh my God,” Jamie said in a hushed tone, his voice full of despair. He slumped back and sat on the bed.
Joe heard the grief in Jamie’s voice and made his way over to him. Jamie’s eyes were still fixated on the bathroom. Joe stared at Jamie for a moment, and then slowly turned his gaze towards the bathroom.
“Jesus Christ. No!”
The shots that rang out a few minutes before told the story as to what had happened. The bathroom looked like a massacre. The stench of decay was overpowered by the smell of blood and gray matter. Andrew’s lifeless body was lying slumped in the floor, a single bullet hole under his chin. Joe stepped into the bathroom and saw the full scope of what had happened. Andrew’s newlywed wife was lying halfway in the tub, both wrists slit. Her body had obviously been there quite some time. She was bloated and gray and stank of decomposition. The gross water that she had laid in was not kind to her over the last few days. She also had a single bullet hole in her head, right between the eyes. Her brains had been sprayed all over the back of the shower. Andrew’s cranium had also been thrown around in the small bathroom. Chunks of brains and skull fragments littered the floor and ceiling, sticking to the shower curtain and the towels draped over the rack. Andrew had apparently found his wife in the bathtub, having taken her own life. She had turned and not been able to navigate her way out of the bathroom. Andrew could not bear to be without his wife and had taken his own life. There was no reasoning with him; there had been no consoling him. He had simply taken the easy way out. Joe could not blame him, but did not agree with the way he had come to terms with it. Joe had his doubts along their trip so far, but had not lost faith that his wife and son would be waiting for him once he got home.
“C’mon. There’s nothing left for us here. Let’s go.” Joe got to his feet. “We are only about fifteen minutes away from my house. Seeing as how we are down to just the two of us now.”
Jamie snapped out of his trance and gave a disconcerting look to his only comrade now. “Have a little respect for the dead, will ya?”
Joe stormed over to his friend. “It’s respect for the dead that got us here in the first damn place! Don’t you see that? If we hadn’t buried people in the ground they wouldn’t be coming back and trying to fuckin’ eat us would they?”
“I really don’t think that has any fuckin’ bearing on our current situation! Andrew is dead, Donnie is dead, and we have just been trucking along like nothing happened! We need to remember them! If they hadn’t been here we might not have made it this far.”
“If it hadn’t been for you we wouldn’t have made it. It’s your guns and your equipment that has got us here so far. I’m not tryin’ to downplay the situation, but dammit, we have bigger problems to deal with right now. If zed out there heard those shots then we are gonna be in deep shit.”
Jamie stood and stormed past Joe into the hallway leading out of the house. “We need to just get the hell outta here. I’m sick of death and dying.”
“Amen to that,” Joe said under his breath and followed Jamie out of the house. Jamie was already in the passenger seat of the pickup by the time Joe got out to it. He sat in silence as Joe fired up the old truck and put it into gear. He was finally going to make it home, and was not wasting any time. He backed out of the driveway and directed the vehicle in the direction of home. In fifteen minutes, he would finally be with his family.
CHAPTER 14
Ronnie was the first to step outside to the waiting hordes of creatures that had invaded the small corner of the world where he and his family had holed up. He instantly eyed two zombies attempting to crawl their way up the front porch steps. He aimed down the sights of the double-barrel shotgun and took out one with each pull of the shotgun’s two triggers. Chris was behind him with his .45 taking aim and shooting several of the undead that had taken notice of Ronnie’s boomstick. The ghouls moaned and shuffled their way towards the front of the house where Ashleigh had made her way out of the door as well. She took aim with the .22 rifle and missed her first several shots, then settled down and took out a nearby walker that was shambling his way towards the group. Buffey stayed inside the doorframe of the house, protecting Rickey and keeping an eye on the newborn Dakota. The infant shrieked from the blast of gunfire coming from the front of the trailer. Buffey inched her way backwards and closed the storm door, shielding the child somewhat from the hail of gunfire coming from the front of the house. Buffey coddled and soothed the infant as much as possible. The child was hungry and they did not have any formula to give the baby, or any usable milk. Buffey held the newborn tight against her chest and cried quietly with her grandson.
Rickey sat in the corner of the living room, his fingers in his ears. His heart was racing and he was holding back tears. He was scared beyond belief and he wanted his daddy to come home. He had told his mommy not to worry about the zombies that once daddy got home he would take care of all of them. Daddy had not made it home yet and Rickey was cared that he might have been wrong, fearing the worst for his father.
Chris and Ronnie shouted out from the porch, calling out positions of the undead that were inching closer to the house. They had taken out the ones at the front of the house and were starting in on the ones coming across the road and down the driveway. Ronnie feverishly reloaded the double barrel and tried in vain to hit a group of zombies coming towards them, over thirty yards away. The buckshot spread was too great to make an impact on the skulls of the undead. He fired the two rounds that the shotgun held and dropped it. He pulled his 9mm from his belt and began taking shots on the farther targets.
Chris dropped his first clip and loaded a second one. He was dropping bodies at a decent rate, but where one went down it, seemed two more would show up. “Son of a bitch! How many of those dead fuckers are there?” Chris said as he fired off his second clip of .45 rounds.
Ronnie kept firing his 9mm at the oncoming zombies as well. Ashleigh ran out of .22 clips, picked up Ronnie’s lever action rifle, and squeezed off a shot, knocking her back and nearly dislocating her shoulder. The shot missed wide as Ronnie ducked from the surprisingly loud shot. She shook off the hard kick, reacquired her target, and fired again, this time exploding the head of a shambling walker. The concussion from the shot going through its head and knocking down the zombie behind it as well. Ronnie grabbed the rifle away from Ashleigh and handed her his pistol. She gave Ronnie a scorned look as he grinned and racked another shot on the lever action.
“Lemme show ‘ya how to do it,” he said laughing.
“I had it!” Ashleigh said, rubbing her shoulder.
Ronnie gave her a disconcerting look as he raised the rifle and aimed through the scope at another zombie making his way through the melee. Ronnie closed his left eye and placed the crosshairs directly on the creature’s head and fired. The round blasted through the zombies head, exploding blobs of decayed brain matter and bone fragments went flying through the air. Ronnie, pleased with himself, racked another round and targeted another creature. He squeezed the trigger...
Click.
Ronnie looked disbelieved at the rifle. It was out of ammo. He picked the shotgun back up, opened the breech, and looked to Chris. “Rifle is out!” He hollered. “Got any more shotgun shells?”
Chris dropped his magazine and loaded his third, and last, clip. “I’m down to my last mag! We have to go back inside and regroup!”
“If we go back now, they are gonna get some more friends here and we won’t be able to stop ‘em!”
Chris fired off several more rounds as panic began to set in on the group. Short on ammo and shorter on time they inched their way back towards the front door. The other weapons they had could not take down the remaining zombies without putting themselves in great danger. Chris fired off the last of his .45 rounds as the slide on his gun locked back. He was out as well. There were still more than a dozen zombies shambling their way across the front yard, and they had not checked the back of the house for any intruders. The can system they had earlier had been useful but short-lived as the wave of undead they had dealt with before had destroyed it. Ronnie grabbed his rifle and shotgun and took them back inside. Ashleigh emptied the rest of the clip that she had in Ronnie’s 9mm and followed him indoors as well, reluctantly.
Chris stood on the porch and holstered his .45. He turned silently, went inside the house, and grabbed the chainsaw from near the door. Ashleigh grabbed his hand and pulled it away from the saw.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Chris pulled his hand free and did not make eye contact with her. “If we don’t get them away from us now, we never will.” He snatched up the chainsaw and made for the door. He looked over his shoulder. “Lock this behind me and don’t look out.”
He pulled the door shut before the rest of the group could get a word in. He stood on the porch and set down the chainsaw. Chris kneeled down and said a silent prayer to himself. He made himself right with God and then turned his attention to the still dozen or more zombies on the lawn.
“Come on, you zombie bastards!” He said to himself and fired up the chainsaw. The trail of white smoke and the deafening roar of the chainsaw attracted the ghoulish group to him. The sound was so loud and the smoke so thick that he did not hear or see the old pickup coming up the driveway.
He ran headlong at the first zombie with the saw raised. He came down with a satisfying buzz as he split the first zombie from head to toe, literally. He spun around to h
is right and began to take out the next zombie when the creature’s head exploded in front of him. He flinched and staggered, backing into another one. He fell to the ground with the creature drooling above him when its head popped as well. He spat out the bits of gore and dirt and rubbed his eyes. He could not see and only heard the steady POW of close gunfire. He dropped the chainsaw and moved toward what he thought was the porch as the gunfire ceased. He fell on the steps and tried to clear his sight as two men came up to him with M16 looking assault rifles. He could not make out their faces, but looked astoundingly familiar. The first man kneeled down in front of him as his vision became cleared.
“Chris? From the office, right? Man this is a coincidence!”
Chris looked up at Joe standing over him with a shit-eating grin and could not help but laugh aloud. Even in the face of the apocalypse, Joe had managed to keep his sense of humor about him. Chris hurriedly got to his feet and hugged his longtime friend.
“Okay, but buy me a drink first!” Joe replied to Chris’ show of affection. Joe grabbed him under the shoulder and helped him towards the door.
“I think my ankle is sprained. You guys scared the shit out of me! Fell and busted my ass on that last one.” Chris hobbled to the door and pounded on the glass. “Open up! Friendlies!”
Sounds of scuffling behind the door as Ronnie was removing the barricade from the doorframe were met with screams of joy as the rest of the group inside the house realized who exactly was coming inside. Ronnie flung the door open, took Chris under the arm, and led him inside. Rickey came running out from his hiding spot in the corner of the living room and scampered to the door, tears running down his face.
“DADDY!” He screamed upon seeing Joe come inside.
Rickey ran up as Joe went down to one knee, grabbed his son, and squeezed him like he had not seen him in ages. For all accounts, he had not. Their embrace was only interrupted by the sound of Dakota beginning to cry as Joe looked up and saw Buffey standing with the infant. Joe waved her over and he grabbed his wife and laid a passionate kiss on her as Dakota cried away. He released his grip from his wife and son.