Six Feet From Hell: Crisis

by Joseph Coley

  “Should we go look for ‘em?” Larry snapped to, looking to Curtis for an answer.

  “I dunno. It’d be hard to tell which way they're coming. If they were in Kentucky, which way would they come to get here?”

  Larry pondered the question before answering. “Well, honestly there are several ways of getting from Kentucky to here. The easiest was is probably through Pikeville and on through Grundy and Richlands, but Grundy is a major hotspot.”

  “Why’s that?” Curtis asked. He motioned for Cornbread to hand him his pack. He was tired of being without his pants.

  “Well the first day, when all the shit went down, Grundy was the source around here. It may not have been the only place where the gas came out, but it was definitely one of the worst areas hit. We try to avoid that area as much as possible. That being said, there are plenty of back roads and other routes that Joe knows around the center of town. I hate to say it but it’s probably in his best interest to avoid it, though.”

  Curtis opened his pack and procured a ragged but relatively clean and blood-free pair of MultiCam pants and shirt. “Well, if it was me, I’d like to think that he’d come lookin’ for me, but he knows the area, and so does Jamie. I say we just give ‘em a few days.”

  Larry took a deep breath, exhaling quickly. He didn't want to leave Joe and the rest of his crew to their own devices, but under the circumstances, he didn't have much choice. The pros didn't outweigh the cons on a trip towards Grundy. “Fair enough. Now what about this ‘Captain’ asshole that you're talking about?”

  “Not to shit on anyone’s breakfast here, but how do you know that Joe is still alive?” Cornbread interrupted.

  “Oh, I know he is. I can feel it.” Curtis put his shirt on. “Just have faith, brother.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Joe had witnessed too many goodbyes in his day, especially recently. He stood outside the entrance to Camp Brown, shaking hands, expressing gratitude, and accepting future offers for assistance from the Camp Brown residents. He wasn’t able to get any of the denizens of the camp to take his offer for sanctuary in Tazewell, and he wasn’t surprised. The heated discussion that followed the truck pulling around front didn't faze him. They were perfectly comfortable staying in the more than capable company of Jim and Maria. They both seemed fit for the duty of taking care of the populace. Joe didn't try to argue that point, only that if they needed their help, that it would be available down the road.

  Jim stood outside the roll up door beside the Humvee. “You sure I can’t talk y’all in to staying? We could really use the help around here. It’s not every day that we find outsiders that are worth hangin’ on to.”

  Joe stepped down from the side of the truck. Since no one from the camp had decided to leave with them, they’d concluded that the trailer would just be dead weight. It would be much easier to drop the trailer and take the truck by itself. The rig had ample room for the four men and Kane. The sleeper cab in the truck was still in very good shape, mattress included. The truck itself was in decent mechanical condition. It contained three-quarters of a tank of diesel and only had one flat tire. Fortunately it was an inside rear tire, one they could live without.

  “I promise if I didn't have people waiting on me that I would. I gotta get to Tazewell and see if Curtis made it. If for some reason he didn't, we will turn around and come back, but I have to at least try, Jim. I'm sure you can understand.” Joe extended his right hand for a handshake, and Jim graciously accepted. “By the way, you never did say anything about who you were looking for in Lexington. I heard Maria say that ‘she’ wasn’t there, I assume that you were missing someone important to you.”

  Jim released his hand from Joe’s and nodded. “Yeah, my wife, Claire. We were married for nearly forty years. Even after the world went all to shit, she stayed by my side. She was one of those women that come along once in a lifetime, and I was lucky enough to be married to her. She went missing the day after we left Lexington. I don’t think she wandered off, but I like to think that she's still alive out there somewhere. We had so many people dying and falling by the wayside, I thought she was just helping them. I didn't see her for a couple hours one evening, and after that, she was gone,” Jim said forlornly, brushing back a tear. “I miss her so much.”

  Joe patted the old man on the back. He felt sorry for the timeworn traveler that had been so accommodating to him. Maybe he would find his wife, maybe not. The odds were most definitely not in his favor; she’d been missing for months now. Joe could understand the workings of a broken heart. He himself had been heartbroken, but was over it. He didn't miss his ex-wife; she was doing her own thing and he was doing his. It had worked out for the better for both of them. In a strange way, Dakota being immune had done Joe a favor. There was no sense in trying to have someone to hold onto in such an unpredictable world. Joe had Rick, and the road in front of him was never ending as far as he was concerned.

  “Good luck, Jim. I hope that everyone here understands what a good man you are and how lucky they are to have you as their leader.” And with that, they were ready to leave.

  Jim nodded and Joe walked around to the passenger’s side of the truck. He climbed up into the spacious cab of the semi and sat heavily on the comfortable seat. Rick, Balboa, and Kane were in the sleeper of the truck, while Jamie drove. He was the only one of the group that knew how to drive the ten-wheeled monstrosity.

  Jamie jammed the gears of the truck, finally getting it into first gear. “Where to, boss?” he grinned as he let the clutch out and the truck lurched forward.

  Joe settled back in the passenger’s seat. It went without saying, but he versed it anyway. There was only one more destination in their immediate future. “Head back home, Jamie. Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  Joe woke to a strange thumping sound. At first, his heart sank, thinking they had blown a tire. With only one tire on the driver’s side, they couldn’t afford to blow another on that side, or they would be more screwed than when they were bleeding in a downed helicopter. Joe sat up from his lackadaisical position in the passenger’s seat. As if sensing that something was amiss, Kane started a low growl. Joe propped himself up and had a look outside. It was evident that they were not alone.

  Zombies lined the road. Zombies pounded on the truck. Zombies fouled up the air around them.

  “Holy shit!” Joe blurted out, not realizing that Jamie wore a gruesome smile. Joe turned to him and playfully punched him on the shoulder. “You asshole! That is one shitty-ass alarm clock.”

  Jamie laughed at Joe’s misfortune. “Sorry, brother. I just couldn’t resist the chance to fuck with you just a little.”

  Joe shifted in his seat to get a better view as Jamie rumbled over a few more zombies. The undead squished and splattered underneath the truck’s massive tires. The truck shook and bounced as it crushed more ghouls beneath it. “Looks like we made it past Grundy. How bad was it?”

  “Not as bad as I thought it'd be, actually. The roads weren’t bad, but the creek beds and shit were full of zeds. Grundy’s population was what, around two thousand or so; the whole county may have been around twenty thousand or so. Not many people to turn.”

  Joe nodded as he watched the road roll by. “Good deal. Looks like we are almost to Richlands.” Joe turned to his attention back to Jamie. “You nervous? It’s been a long time since we’ve been back here. I'm sure a lot has changed.”

  “Yeah, I am. I always thought that if I ever left here, that I’d never miss it. Even growing up here, I didn't ever wanna come back, now I'm nervous about seeing it again. Funny how that works out, ain't it?”

  “Yeah, I never thought we’d make it back here. Just puts us back at the beginning, back where we started. Even though it was my idea, I didn't ever think we’d see this place again. When I came up with our ‘Plan B’ I didn't think it’d come to fruition. Now that it has, I wonder what the hell I was thinking.” Joe laughed off his second-guessing; it was far too late for that now.
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br />   The semi drove on, the men silent for the ride, each lost in his own thoughts. As they proceeded into Tazewell County, the amount of undead slowed until they didn't see any at all. The county looked nearly zombie free. Joe sat back and watched as the scenery passed by, remembering the first day of the outbreak. It had been so many years ago, and yet was still fresh in his memory. The entire incident was a nightmarish scenario, but had drawn him closer together with his co-workers and friends. Aside from the incident with James, the first couple of hours had been a well-coordinated effort from people that had not been prepared for an incident of that magnitude.

  Joe missed the simpler days of life when all he had to worry about was who his partner at work would be for the day. He missed driving the ambulance and answering 911 calls. He missed the genuine excitement of screaming down the road, lights and sirens going strong, busting through red lights and stop signs on the way to help. Life was exponentially easier by comparison. There were good times to be had after work, functions to attend, Facebook statuses to be commented on, any number of tasks to do.

  Jamie passed several exit signs that showed what Joe had been waiting for: Tazewell was only two miles away. Joe scooted up a little further in his seat in anticipation, leaning forward and darting his eyes back and forth. The snow-covered mountains and idyllic scenery would have made for an excellent vacation spot, if it were not for the lurking corpses that invaded the serene locale.

  “What are the chances that there’s someone still holed up around here?” Rick said, peeking up from the sleeper cab. Kane wandered up as well, curious about something. The canine sat down between Joe and Jamie.

  Joe turned to address Rick. “I dunno. Most people around here can hunt, fish, and take care of themselves. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were a few left.”

  Jamie slowed the rig considerably and geared down quickly, kicking in the truck’s Jake brake. All the men in the cab pitched forward suddenly and grabbed onto whatever they could grab. Kane lunged ahead as well, nearly ramming his snout into the gearshift.

  “Whoa! What the hell, man?” Rick stammered out.

  Jamie and Joe stared forward, unflinching. Neither man spoke nor moved. What lay in front of them gave them both reason for hope and apprehension simultaneously. Jamie pulled the parking brake and got out of the truck. Joe grabbed his rifle and did the same.

  Rick and Kane exited the truck, followed shortly by Balboa. The four men stood in the middle of the road and gazed upon an unusual sight, one they had seen before, but not one they expected to find outside of Tazewell. Balboa was the first and only person to speak what was on everyone else’s mind.

  “What in the hell is that?”

  CHAPTER 21

  Curtis laced his boots slowly. He was glad to be dressed in his own clothes again, and grateful to Larry and Cornbread for taking care of him, but he was still anxious. They were obviously friends of Joe, a definite plus. But uncertainty nagged at him like the pain in his ribs. He didn't have a problem with waiting for Joe and the rest of the team to get there, but God only knew how long that could be, even if they were alive. He decided it was best not to concern himself with such things and just get on with living for the time being.

  Curtis could see why Joe had taken a liking to the small town of Tazewell as soon as he exited his room. He walked outside onto a second-floor balcony, flanked on either side by Larry and Cornbread. As soon as he got outside, he realized where he was: an old motel. Doors and room numbers were on his left as he walked towards a staircase which led down to a derelict parking lot. Despite the hulking remains of former businesses and old, long-forgotten eateries and roads, the serene backdrop of the mountains was breathtaking. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he glanced behind him. The steep incline of mountains and snow-covered hills were stunning, as if the town had been carved out of ivory.

  Curtis couldn’t help but fall in love with the mountain town; it was a sight straight out of a Robert Frost poem. As he reached the bottom of the staircase, Larry gestured to a large diesel truck, the lone vehicle in the parking lot.

  “The grand tour, eh? You guys mind telling me where we’re going?”

  Larry grinned. “Well, I figured you’d be hungry, so we’re gonna head down to get a little bite to eat. It’s about lunchtime for the rest of us.”

  “The rest of you? How many people do you have, Larry?”

  “Ninety-seven, to be exact. Most of us have been here since the beginning, or just never left. We grow and hunt our own food, have our own water supply, and make our own power. We’ve even gotten decent at making our own biodiesel for the vehicles. We are a completely self-sustained community,” Larry finished proudly.

  Curtis got into the truck, an extended-cab Dodge Ram, and settled in. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but Joe mentioned to me before that he was pretty sure you were gonna make a run to the hills, somewhere in Tennessee if I'm not mistaken.”

  Larry put the truck in gear and shifted into four-wheel drive. He cocked his head to one side. “Well, yeah, originally I was gonna just run to some family that I've got in the Tennessee backcountry, but decided to stay. Tazewell is one of the best places I've ever lived in; I couldn’t just up and leave without a fight. And trust me; it’s been a hell of a fight sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I feel ya there, brother. Sometimes I wish I woulda just rode off into the sunset on some big-ass yacht and waited until I ran outta food. A couple days or a week out on the ocean would’ve been a hell of a lot better than fighting every day on land.”

  Larry made a right-hand turn out of the motel parking lot and slowly made his way through an abandoned intersection. The truck’s back end slid out a little as he made the turn and headed down the road. After topping a small rise in the road, Larry held out his hand, gesturing to a massive wall at the end of the road. It was about ten feet high and ran the length of the road that Curtis could see. “There it is; Virginia's own Great Wall,” Larry proclaimed.

  “I’ll be damned …” Curtis said, in awe.

  The wall stretched out a couple hundred yards to the left and right before it faded out of sight. The bulk of what Curtis could see was made up of semi-trailers and flatbeds. The exterior portion of the massive fence was reinforced with a combination of trees, boards, and steel. A mishmash of components, but effective nonetheless. The flatbed trailers and regular semi-trailers were alternated, the flatbeds making an excellent walkway and barrier. Curtis could see about ten of the flatbeds, every other one with an armed guard posted. He was impressed.

  “Whaddya think?”

  Curtis’ jaw remained slack at the sight of the barrier. “Nice wall ya got there, Larry. Where in the hell did you find all these? And how far does it stretch out?”

  “Well, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to take credit for it, but everyone pitched in on it. It took us the better part of two years to stretch it out as far as we have it now. It runs straight through the middle of town, along the easiest and straightest routes. I'm not sure how much we have, square mileage-wise, but it’s plenty of room for just under a hundred people to be comfortable in. The wall makes a turn with the road about a quarter-mile down that way,” Larry pointed to his left. “After that, it goes on for about a mile and a half, and then makes another turn to the left for another mile or so.” Larry grinned and stopped the truck. “Like I said, plenty of room. The train tracks cut the town in half; a good portion of the wall follows it.”

  “You guys definitely have your shit together. I'm impressed,” Curtis said as he got out of the truck. He wanted a better look at the massive structure that the town of Tazewell was surrounded by. He strolled to the end of the street and gazed down the road to his left. Sure enough, the wall ran the length of what looked like an old road. At the end of the street, he could barely make out the turn in the barrier curving around to the left and continuing on parallel with the train tracks.

  A radio squelched inside the truck, followed by unintelligible sounds and a panicked v
oice. In the distance, Curtis could hear several individual gunshots followed by a pause, then automatic gunfire. Larry flung the door open and popped up over the top of the windshield.

  “Did anybody else follow you? We got company and they don’t look like they're here to talk!”

  “No, I swear! One of my guys is dead at the tunnel; the other was shot by your people on the road.”

  “Get in! We need to head down towards the old salt dome!”

  Curtis got back to the truck as fast as his injured legs would take him. He climbed up in the Dodge as Larry threw the truck into drive and took off. He felt a pang of guilt. These people had made an excellent living in spite of their abysmal surroundings. They had taken on the elements, Mother Nature, and the undead, and still made a habitable place to stay. If it weren’t for them rescuing Curtis and taking him in then maybe they wouldn’t have the problem they were facing now. The Captain had clearly become tired of waiting for Wagner to contact him and had initiated an attack on the town. Curtis buried his head in his hands.

  It was time to fight once again.

  * * *

  Rounds ricocheted off the semi-truck as Joe tried to get a better position to return fire, but every time he moved, a high-powered rifle round would snap by. They had started to take fire immediately after parking the truck and getting out. The first couple salvos fired had obviously been warning shots, but the last few were intended to kill, or at least maim.

  They had parked the truck just outside of Tazewell after seeing that the town was surrounded by a ten-foot-high wall. They immediately began taking fire. Joe had suggested driving on past the town, but the bridge less than a hundred yards away had been destroyed. The wall was directly in line with them, as the road they were on was slightly higher up than the off-ramp. Joe couldn’t get his head up long enough to see who they were shooting at. They were trapped in a turkey shoot.