by Joseph Coley
“And where might those be?” Larry asked.
“Bluefield and Richlands both have National Guard and Reserve units that are located right on Route 460. Larry, I don’t know if you’ve checked out either place…”
“We haven’t,” answered Larry.
“…Then we should make it a point to get some people, radios, guns, and some vehicles to each one of ‘em,” Joe continued.
Larry pushed his hands together and let out a low groan. “As much as I would like for us to have a heads up, I don’t think that we are going to have enough people around here to be able to send out a couple to just sit and wait. We don’t have enough diesel or vehicles to put it in. I’m all for it, but we have to do some serious planning if we want to make this work.”
Joe held his right hand up. “I have an idea for that as well. Both of the wrecked LMTV’s haven’t been scavenged yet. With any luck, they’ll have some useable fuel left in ‘em.”
Curtis smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand in a classic duh fashion. “I forgot about the one in the tunnel!”
The group turned and looked at Curtis. “What one in the tunnel?” Joe asked.
Curtis looked up swiftly. “When Wagner and Mike were pulling their shit, we had three LMTV’s. One of them was left inside the tunnel at the state line. It’s loaded down with a little bit of everything. There’s radios, guns, ammo, and some more diesel. It might not be in the best shape after sitting for so long, but we could at least go see what’s left.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier? You got a bad case of CRS, Curtis,” Joe said, laughing.
“CRS?”
Joe laughed harder. “Yeah, CRS. Can’t Remember Shit.”
Curtis chuckled at his own forgetfulness. “Sorry.”
“Alright,” Joe said, getting back to the situation at hand. “We’ll go tomorrow morning and take Captain White out for a walk. I’ll go with Curtis and Captain White. I’d like to have at least one other so we can have two to a vehicle.”
“I’ll go. Captain White won’t try any shit around me. If he does, I’ll knock his goddamned teeth in,” Rick spoke up.
“Good deal. That’s all I’ve got for tonight,” Joe looked to his cohorts. “Anybody else got anything?” He pointed to each individual man, each one shaking his head no. “Alright, fellas. Have a good night; Rick, Curtis, and I will leave out after breakfast tomorrow morning. Larry, it’s your town, so I leave everything else to you.”
“We’ll hold down the fort. Ya’ll be careful in the morning,” Larry said, getting up and stretching again. “Good night, boys.”
One by one, each man filed out of the building. When their meeting had ended, the daylight had faded and nighttime was creeping in. The days were getting longer, but were still painfully short for the work that needed done. Crews in town were busy taking care of a little bit of everything. The wall constantly needed repairing, the solar panels needed cleaning, the water needed collecting, the firewood needed gathering; there was never a shortage of things to do.
Jamie pulled Cornbread off to the side after they finished their impromptu meeting. He waited until the others had passed before he spoke.
“We still on for tomorrow afternoon?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah, but I still don’t feel right doin’ this. What if we get caught? What if we get killed out there?” Cornbread leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And what if we actually succeed? How are we gonna explain it to Joe and Larry?”
Jamie folded his arms and lowered his voice as well. “Let me worry about them. I just need the truck up and running for tomorrow. If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to.”
“I’m still coming; I just hope this works out the way you planned.”
“It will. I have to make a run over to my house in the morning, but after that, I’m free. I’ve got to get a few things that I have stashed down in the basement.”
“What have you got stashed away, Jamie? You got a Howitzer down there?” Rick asked. He had unintentionally eavesdropped on Jamie’s conversation.
Jamie patted him on the shoulder. “No, just a few things we might need around here.”
“I’m sure that Larry raided your house already. You did have a shitload of guns and whatnot.”
Jamie grinned. “Yeah, I figured that he did what he had to, but I’ve got a fireproof safe in the basement with some stuff that’ll come in handy later.”
As Joe walked to the edge of the building, he slowed as he reached the entrance. He leaned over on an old brick pillar and crossed his arms. He listened for a few moments as he heard the few sounds of nightlife in Tazewell, as well as a few of the guys conversing about something. A dog barked, followed by another. The steady hum of a generator buzzed somewhere. Crickets chirped, a few birds sang, but the chilling moan of a zombie in the wilderness destroyed the general peace of nature. As Joe closed his eyes, he tried to imagine what life was like in Tazewell before the world went to hell. He listened intensely again for a few moments. For a brief few seconds, he was taken back ten years ago to a better time, a civil time. The world was at his fingertips. The only worry was what time he had to be at work in the morning. Joe took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Another sound drew his attention behind him.
Footsteps.
Joe simultaneously drew his .45 as he spun around, the footsteps stopping as he aimed the gun into the darkness. A painfully quiet few seconds passed. Joe could hear the soft breathing of someone standing about ten feet from him. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Angel. Could you put the gun away, please?”
Joe was immediately embarrassed. He hurriedly holstered the .45, fumbling the pistol into the holster. “Oh, damn! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to draw on you, it’s just instinct anymore.”
Angel lowered her voice. “Don’t worry about it, hun. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
Joe frowned in the darkness, slightly confused. “Then what were you trying to do?”
Angel stepped forward. Joe could just barely make out her face as she stepped in front of him. Her soft features appeared as she stood directly in front of him. The tiny amount of light behind him reflected off her eyes. The sight, for some reason, relaxed Joe. He felt a rush of endorphins as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was shorter than he was, her hands barely connecting behind his neck. Joe eased his hands around her waist, prompting another flood of adrenaline. He wrapped his hand around her back as she leaned in and kissed him, slowly and delicately at first, then passionate and firm. They stayed locked in their embrace, both wanting each other, both needing a companion. Angel slowly eased back after a few seconds and smiled in the darkness.
“That’s what I was trying to do.”
CHAPTER 5
April 18, 2022 – 0715 hours
The next morning, Joe sat waiting for breakfast before anyone else. He and Angel had arrived before the residents of Tazewell filed in. They had spent the night together, both enamored with each other and both needing the night of companionship and stress relief. Angel was now behind the counter helping Heather with breakfast. The sweet smell of bacon in the morning reminded Joe of his military days for some reason. The early morning smell of delicious food always brought back memories of finishing PT in the pre-dawn hours. The morning runs that brought them in front of the mess hall always managed to give him a little more incentive to go faster. A hungry soldier was a motivated soldier.
Joe tried his best to contain his childish giddiness. He hadn’t been with a woman in a long time, and it showed on his face. He couldn’t keep from smiling as he sat and watched Angel work behind the counter. Every so often, she would catch him looking and throw a cheerful wink his direction. He would grin and look down, not ashamed of the wonderful night that he’d spent with her, but just unsure of how to go about the dating game in the post-apocalyptic world. One thing was for sure, though – he wanted her and she wanted him.
Joe shook off his romantic daydrea
ming and stared back down at the timeworn notebook in front of him. It was a hardback green military composition book that he’d gathered from Camp Dawson; it was essential to his day-to-day operations. He had written down several ideas that he wanted to put into place, starting with recovering the LMTV from inside the East River Tunnel. Taking over the Richlands National Guard and the Bluefield Army Reserve units were next. Unfortunately, he had little to rely on for extra personnel. He wanted at least four or five men per station and wanted to rotate every few days. The biggest issue aside from the personnel was the fuel consumption. Larry had been making a decent amount of biodiesel before they arrived and Joe was hoping the LMTV in the tunnel had a few cans on it as well. The Dodge that Larry used wasn’t exactly a hybrid, either. The truck was lucky to get fifteen miles-per-gallon on the highway, and that was with ultra-low-sulfur diesel. The biodiesel wasn’t as reliable, but it made it from point A to point B.
Joe penned in several names to the list of outpost volunteers. He, and Rick, Curtis, Jamie, Balboa, Larry, Cornbread and Jim Crowley made up most of the work force that he had at his disposal. That was not enough. He would have to carouse around town to gather more reinforcements. That in of itself would be a difficult mission. Most of the citizens in town had a good thing going and didn’t want to stray from their daily norms. The only other person that had versed any interest in doing anything was Boyd, and he was horribly inexperienced. Maybe a trip out to the tunnel would decide his mettle. Joe penned his name with a question mark. That was still not enough for what he wanted. He kicked back in the chair and folded his hands over his head, pondering.
Rick came walking in a few seconds later, with Kane in tow. The dog had become an indispensable part of their team. Not only did the dog have excellent hunting skills, he was hyperaware of the undead threat when it approached. The German shepherd spotted Joe and looked to Rick for approval.
“Go on, then. Get some table scraps from Dad,” Rick said.
The dog grunted slightly and trotted over to Joe. Joe sat forward in his chair and met the canine. He ruffled the dog’s fur and gave a hearty pat on his belly. A couple of months of decent food had brought back the luster to his coat and he looked much healthier than when they had picked him up in Kentucky.
Kentucky!
“Motherfucker! I got it!” Kane snapped his head up and met Joe’s gaze. He looked down to the dog and smiled. “Sorry Kane, I just figured something out.”
Rick came over with a cup of hot apple cider. The coffee had long since been gone and no one knew how to grow and preserve the plant, so apple cider was as close as they got to an early morning breakfast beverage. Rick sat down next to his father; a shit-eating grin was on Joe’s face still. Rick looked all around and behind him, trying to spot what Joe had seen.
“What? Did I say the word of the day?”
“No! I just figured out who we can get to help us with the Richlands and Bluefield OP’s.”
Rick’s brow furrowed. “And who might that be?” He took a slow sip of cider and watched his father.
“Remember the folks from Hazard, Kentucky? We never did go back and tell them that we had found Tazewell. We owe them for keeping us safe and feeding us. It’s only right that we go back to them and let them know there are other places they can go. I’m almost positive Camp Brown would come back with us now, especially if we tell them about the wall.”
Rick thought for a moment. “Might be worth the drive. Problem is, that is gonna cost us quite a bit of diesel, especially if we use the biodiesel. It’s warm out, but not warm enough to keep it from gelling up. We’re gonna need some anti-gel additive and a full tank of diesel, preferably not the biodiesel,” Rick sat his mug down and let out a long sigh. “That being said, you know what Larry is gonna ask.”
“What might that be?”
“What are they gonna bring to the table? We can’t just bring thirty or so more mouths to feed around here without them doing something in return. I understand that they helped us out, but we were only there for one day. If they come here, they are gonna be here a lot longer than just a day. They are gonna have to have something for us in return,” Rick replied.
“You sound like you’ve got something in mind.”
Rick shuffled in his seat slightly. “Not really. I just think that we ought to have a job for everyone here, you know, find out people’s strengths and weaknesses. The way that things are done nowadays seems a little unorganized. We need to get the town together and get some more opinions on what they might want. They are gonna be the ones doing extra work so we can go. I think it’s only fair that we ask if they are okay with what we want to do.”
* * *
“We don’t want ‘em!”
The grand introduction and explanation that Joe had planned out fell apart in a single sentence. He stood on a table near the entrance to the chow hall, trying to gather the collective attention of the masses in front of him. Nearly all the residents had shown up for breakfast, each one braving the cool drizzle that had begun to fall outside. The denizens of Tazewell were not in the mood for hearing a scheme to bring more work and possibly more problems to the town. A dozen different arguments, all separate from one another, flooded the large building. Joe let his arms fall to his side, disappointed.
“Calm down and listen to the man!” Larry yelled from beneath where Joe stood. The citizens lowered their chatter and turned their attention to the two men. Larry clambered up onto the table with Joe and addressed his people.
“Most of you know me personally. Almost all of you knew me before the world went to hell. You know that I would never do anything to put your lives in jeopardy,” Larry said. He paced the top of the table as he spoke. “I was a paramedic for nearly ten years when the undead came. I helped people back then; people who were less than worthy of the caring that they received, but I did it anyway. I didn’t judge people on the base of whether they could pay for my services, whether they were worthy of care, or whether they were decent human beings. I treated them all the same. The people that Joe wants to help are decent people. They took him in and gave him food and a place to sleep. They gave him a truck to drive. They didn’t ask for anything in return. As far as I’m concerned, that qualifies them for help.” Larry stopped and faced the crowd.
“Where are they?” A voice from the middle of the crowd yelled out.
“Joe said that they are holed up in an old UPS building in Hazard, Kentucky that they nicknamed ‘Camp Brown.’ It’s about a hundred and fifty miles from here. Normally it would take around three hours to get there, but I would conservatively say five hours now. I think it’s only fair that we at least extend help to them. I’m not asking for anyone to come with us, but if you want, you can.”
“I’m game,” Boyd hollered out.
Joe pointed to Boyd. “Not for the Hazard run, Boyd. We plan to put some listening posts in Richlands and Bluefield, that’s why I want to go get the folks from Camp Brown. I’m gonna take as few people as possible for it so we can bring back as many as we can. Camp Brown only had about thirty people, so if I take myself and two others, then we should be able to fit most, if not all of them in the LMTV.”
“Where is this LMTV? I don’t recall us having one,” Boyd asked.
“That’s what I want you to come with me on. It will be me, Rick, Curtis, Boyd…and Captain White.”
The uproar from the crowd was nearly unanimous and simultaneous. Angry shouts, finger pointing, and fist waving. The natives were restless. There had been no explanation of Captain White thus far, and people weren’t going to sit and wait for one. It was time to see if Joe’s risky move would pay off, the first step being the citizens’ approval.
“That sonofabitch tried to kill you! What in the hell are you thinking?” A random voice rose above the din of the crowd.
“AT EASE!” Joe screamed. The phrase had little meaning to most of the civilians within earshot, but it subsided the screaming chorus of angry citizens. It was a phrase from h
is military days, one that was yelled when an NCO walked into the room, or when a group of soldiers got a little out of hand with their mouths.
Joe continued on the table, as the citizens looked on silenced. “Captain White is not of your concern. I’m the one that took him in, and I will be the one to look after him. I’m going to take him out on a couple missions. If he does well, then I will keep him, if not then we will have him executed. It’s as simple as that. I want to make outposts in Richlands and Bluefield if we have more unwanted guests, and I want to get the folks from Hazard.”
“We didn’t have many unwanted guests until ya’ll showed up! We minded our own business and kept the Mountain Men and the Snake Handlers outta here by our damn selves. Not that we ain’t grateful for the rifles and whatnot, but it seems trouble is followin’ you boys around quite a bit.” Another voice from the crowd rose above the others. The man had the gall to question the motives of Joe and his team, all the while grasping the M4 that Joe had brought to him.
Joe pointed a finger and started to respond when he realized that he had no idea who the Mountain Men or the Snake Handlers were. He had an idea, but was afraid to voice it now. The Snake Handlers were most likely the followers of the Church of God With Signs Following, a sect in the area that was notorious for handling venomous snakes and drinking strychnine. They believed that if your faith were strong enough then the poison from the bite or other source would not harm you. There had been many members of the church that had died of snakebites and other poisonings. In the days when the law meant something, it was perfectly legal in the state of West Virginia.
