by Joseph Coley
Larry dropped the box of kneepads. “Take back the town? Look around, Joe! We don’t exactly have a militia here! If we take back the town, we are going to need a hell of a lot more than a box of elbow pads! We’ve got women, children, and a limited supply of ammo, so tell me – how the hell are we gonna take back my goddamned town!”
Joe paused for a moment. Larry normally had a calm demeanor, the cool, collected stance that he had was shattered now. Joe thought for another moment. Wait – his town?
“What the hell do you mean your town? I thought this was a place for all of us to live! I didn’t realize that it all belonged to you!”
Larry smacked his hands against the tailgate of the LMTV. “I led these people for nearly a decade! You come in, and since then we’ve been shot at, blown up, and have a crazy psychopathic Marine after us. Not to mention the fact that we now have a breach for the first time in almost five years! Way to go on busting a big fucking hole in the wall!”
Joe jumped down from the back of the LMTV, his heart racing. He could feel his face getting flush. He was frustrated, sure, but seeing Larry snap at him just made it that much worse. The zombies he could deal with, a simple bullet to the head ended all of their complaining. Straightening out his tasks and thoughts, fixing problems, and keeping the peace was becoming more and more of a pain in the ass.
“So it’s all my fault?”
Larry stepped in front of Joe, meeting his friend face-to-face. “I’m saying none of this shit happened before you got here. Oh, and, by the way, it looks like your charity case killed Roy and Beverly. Near as I can tell, it looks like she started all this shit. Of course, you crashing the wall down didn’t help anything, either.”
“People were in trouble and I reacted – saving your wife and two children as well, I might add. Don’t give me shit about saving lives, Larry. The wall can be rebuilt, but we can’t replace people, can we?”
“Yeah, I’m sure Andrew and Donnie would agree with you, wouldn’t they?”
Joe’s face turned beet red. A shot like that from a friend as close as Larry had been was a little too much, even considering that Joe had taken personal responsibility for what had happened to his two friends. He’d lost more than them since then, but they were still the two biggest sore spots that he had. He’d lost family, friends and acquaintances since that first day, but having them all die at the expense of him getting home, or getting his own personal missions accomplished made it difficult to swallow. He couldn’t hold any more of it in, and what came out was ugly.
Joe took a swing at Larry.
And missed.
He didn’t so much as miss, as Larry ducked away, but the message behind it was clear. There was not room enough for two men to try to run the town. Joe had his way, Larry had his, and up to now, it seemed that they had been able to agree. Joe was more prone to wild ideas that didn’t pan out sometimes, but effective nonetheless. Larry was more conservative; he had made a walled-in town, and kept its inhabitants safe for nearly a decade. He didn’t take unnecessary risks, preferring to play it safe, and, in turn, kept its citizens away from harm. The styles of both men weren’t meshing well, and now, at the most inopportune time; the differences were showing.
Larry stumbled back for a second, and then regained his footing quickly. He charged over to Joe, who was holding his fists up, ready for a fight. Larry forced himself towards White’s outstretched arm, fuming. The voice of reason, oddly enough, was Captain White. He quickly stepped between Joe and Larry. There was no time for arguing. “You two fuckers want to take care of this at another time? We have a town full of zombies here. The personal bullshit can wait. Get your shit together and get in the goddamned jail!” He shoved both men back, planting a hand in each one’s chest and separating them.
“What the fuck was that for? What is your goddamn problem?”
Joe pointed an accusing finger back. “You and your bullshit, Larry! If you don’t like the way I do things, then fucking come to me like a man and say so! Don’t wait until the shit hits the fan and take out your shortcomings on me!”
“Knock it off! Both of you have friends out there that we haven’t found yet. There are people that are counting on you two fucktards to get your shit straight, so I suggest you do it!” Captain White silenced both men temporarily.
They hadn’t heard White lash out at anyone. The man had been an asshole to most everyone in his time in Tazewell, until he was loosed from his cell. In the time that he had been out and about, he’d shown the skills that served him well as a Marine. Leadership in the face of uncertainty was one of his better traits.
Larry shot White a disapproving, angered look. “Since when are you the voice of reason there, General Sherman?”
Captain White lowered his rifle. “Since you two fuckers decided to hash out your personal shit all of the sudden. Someone has to get you assholes in gear; stop your goddamned complaining and get the rest of that shit inside.”
Joe had already grabbed another box, clambering back into the truck while Larry and White were arguing. As much as he hated to admit it, White was right. He wasn’t sure why Larry had decided to take out his frustrations now, but it didn’t matter. The truth had made its way out, and there was no hiding it now. Like a shot out of the blue, feelings had a way of bursting to the surface at the most inopportune times.
Joe and Larry continued unloading the LMTV in silence. Both men knew what was at stake with the town being overrun. It was going to be a hell of an undertaking to get it clear, and they had neither the personnel nor the supplies to pull it off successfully. They were going to need some help, a plan, and for God’s sake, they needed a little unity.
CHAPTER 16
April 18, 2022 – 1631 Hours – Hazard, Kentucky
Jamie and Cornbread barreled down the road in the semi. The folks in Hazard, Kentucky had taken them in and kept them safe, even if only for a day, but it had a lasting mark on Jamie. The people there had no reason to help other than to be kind to their fellow man in need, and that was something sorely lacking nowadays. The semi-truck wouldn’t hold all of them, but, with any luck, he would be able to hook up to one of the trailers and take them all into town. The people of Camp Brown deserved to be taken care of, and Tazewell was as good as anywhere. Jamie hadn’t thought his plan all the way through; he was still running through how he was going to tell Joe about leaving town. Of course, he wasn’t going to get the chance to explain himself until they got back.
If they got back.
Cornbread fidgeted in the passenger’s seat. He wasn’t keen on leaving Larry or Joe, either one, in the dark, but he agreed with Jamie’s rationalization: both men needed a break from their respective burdens of leadership. Neither man gave their approval for them to leave, and they were just fine with that. There were a select few people that knew about them leaving, and that’s the way they wanted it. The less people that knew about their operation, the better.
Jamie knew that Joe wanted to get the good folks at Camp Brown to Tazewell, and he was taking it upon himself to do so. It was like getting someone a gift; you had to get something that they would never get themselves, and the trip to Hazard was something that Joe would mull over too much before doing. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect Joe, quite the contrary, but if he and Cornbread got the people from Camp Brown to come along, they Joe could claim plausible deniability. What he didn’t know, he couldn’t disapprove.
“I still don’t like this, Jamie. Way too much shit can go wrong while we’re out gallivanting around three hours away from home. What if something happens while we’re gone? How are we gonna explain that to Larry and Joe? Not to mention the fact that Larry and him are out doin’ their own thing today, too. We better not fuck this up, Jamie, or we’ll be cleaning the motel’s toilets until we can’t taste the difference between shit and French fries.”
Jamie chuckled. “Let’s just hope that nothing goes wrong. Trust me, I know Joe and I know that he wants to do right by the folks in Haza
rd. As long as we make it back in one piece, we should be fine. No harm, no foul.”
Cornbread eased back into the seat. “If you say so. How much longer until we get there?”
“We should be there any minute. It was hard to see in the snow and the darkness, but I remember the place. I hate that it took so damn long to get here; I was hoping to get out of here tonight. If for some reason we have to sleep here tonight, the gig is up. I don’t know many people that will miss you or me…No offense.”
Cornbread didn’t even look up. “None taken,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand.
“But if they do, hopefully they will at least wait until morning to go out after us. If we leave before dawn, we should be in the clear.”
“You say that like you’ve already figured out that we can’t make it back in time.”
“I’m leaning towards staying here, yeah.”
Cornbread sat up in the seat. “Why don’t we just worry about finding this fuckin’ place, then we can do whatever your little pointed head desires.”
Jamie gave him the finger.
“Yeah, fuck you too, Jamie. You know you love me.”
“I’m beginning to regret my choice of partners for this little endeavor.”
“Like you said, nobody will miss us.” Cornbread tossed an old rolled up napkin at his driver, further irking him.
“I sure as shit won’t miss you, ya fat asshole.” Jamie said “ya fat asshole” in his best redneck accent. Sure, they were from the South and had a little southern drawl, but even at that, it could be greatly exaggerated. It was all a matter of perspective; folks in Massachusetts thought Virginians had a thick accent, Virginians thought Georgians did, and so on. Making fun of one’s own stereotype was a way of making sure the stereotype didn’t bother you, like cops eating doughnuts on purpose. Both men shared a good guffaw at Jamie’s redneck expense.
Jamie chugged along the road for another few minutes before he noticed something familiar. Even in the snow and darkness, he remembered a certain landmark of the UPS building that made up Camp Brown, and now that it wasn’t covered in nature’s cold confetti, he recognized it even more. There had been a rock wall directly across from Camp Brown, adjacent to the building’s east side. That, in of itself, wasn’t that memorable, but the giant University of Kentucky symbol spray painted on the wall was noticeable. The paint was faded, chipped and missing in some large spaces, but largely, it was still there.
Jamie slowed the truck, turning the signal on for a right-hand turn. Realizing what he’d done, he swiftly turned the blinker off.
“Yeah, I don’t think anybody is gonna write you a ticket, hoss.”
Jamie paid no attention to Cornbread’s remark. The truck rumbled down the street for another hundred yards or so before Jamie eyed the distinct building. “Here we go!”
The snow was missing, but all the other landmarks were there. The fenced in area, the guards standing watch, and the familiar look of the former UPS station were all present. Jamie pulled the truck to the median and turned the big semi in a wide arc towards the entrance. In another time, he might have been mistaken for a delivery driver, but not today.
Both the guards at the gate turned their weapons towards the big truck and opened fire.
* * *
“I don’t know where either one of them are, frankly, we don’t have enough information to go on right now. The best thing we can do is wait until morning and then clear out the town. We can use the LMTV and the Ram to plug the hole in the wall until we can get something else to seal it up with.” Joe stood, his hands on his hips, pacing back and forth in front of what was left of what he considered his “useable” personnel. Curtis, Rick, Larry, Kody, Boyd, Reggie, and Captain White sat against the alabaster white wall of the holding area, all eyes trained towards Joe.
“I’m with you; if they are still alive, then we will most likely find them tomorrow. Chances are, they were surrounded or had to hole up somewhere,” Reggie said.
“Then why the hell haven’t they contacted us yet? Both of ‘em had radios, so why haven’t they hollered at us?” Larry questioned, not bothering to look up.
Joe stopped pacing. “I don’t know. Maybe we should go out and do a quick search. We can take a couple of us in the LMTV and do a quick run through town. Hell, we might even be able to plug the hole in the wall with the truck.”
“That’s a terrible idea, Joe.” Captain White stood and addressed their informal leader. “Fact of the matter is, if they had radios they would have called. If they saw what was going on in town, then they would have followed, and if they were within a few miles, they would have come back after hearing all the gunfire. They are either far away from town, or they are dead.”
“Well I’d like to think that they are alive, so we will assume they are and, for whatever reason, can’t contact us right now. As much as I hate to say it, it is pretty low on our list of priorities right now.”
“Then what is on the top of our list right now?” Larry asked, absently looking down.
Joe stopped pacing and turned towards his colleagues. “I have no idea. I think we should get some gear together and sleep on it for now. We don’t know how many we have out there, and we don’t know how many people we are missing. I say we hold tight for tonight and see what it looks like in the morning. Any thoughts?”
The men exchanged casual glances. Fact of the matter was none of them had any idea how to proceed. They had become accustomed to living the good life within the walls of Tazewell, only going out to get supplies when it was necessary, and it had made them somewhat soft. There was no contingency plan in place for such an event, and Joe was disappointed in himself above all others. In his EMS heyday, he would often go over “worst-case scenarios,” with his partners, especially as far as 911 calls went. The “what if” element was always present in his work, and contrary to popular belief, it could always get worse. A breach in the wall and a mass of undead was doable, although difficult.
Joe thought it would do them best to mull it over for a while and get some idea how to proceed. As much as he wanted to get Jamie and Cornbread back, it wouldn’t do them any good to get caught in a less-than-capable building, especially in the dark.
“How many did we manage to get from town?” Joe asked.
“Head count was only thirty-five, including all of us,” Balboa said. “Which means we have roughly sixty unaccounted for.”
“Yeah, sixty more goddamned zombies, not including the extra hundred or so that came through the gate,” Captain White said, not adding any positive spin on the situation. “Why don’t you tell them about the tunnel?”
Larry, Kody, and Reggie all collectively turned their attention to Joe.
“What about the tunnel?” Larry asked after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence.
“It’s full of zombies. There’s fucking thousands of them, and we got them all riled up to get out goddamn LMTV back. If they make it to town, then we are completely fucked. The walls won’t hold that many and we don’t have that kind of ammo to waste on ‘em,” Joe said, further aggravating his problems.
“Great. Now we have a couple thousand undead after us, sixty people unaccounted for, and two of our friends are missing in action. Does that about cover it?” Larry said sarcastically. “Well ain’t that just fucking peachy. I really don’t even know where to start, Joe. This is about as a big a clusterfuck as we have ever had. I really don’t know what the hell we are going to do about this shit. It is just too much to absorb right now.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Let’s take care of one problem at a time, shall we?” Joe ruffled his own hair vigorously and tried to change the subject. “It’s gonna get dark in an hour or two. Let’s just get our stuff together and be prepared for the morning. Load up every magazine and LBV we have; check rifles and make sure they are in perfect working order, and grab every grenade we have. Tomorrow morning, we take back the town.”
More work to do, more lives to save.
Just another day in the zombie apocalypse.
CHAPTER 17
April 18, 2022 – 1641 Hours
“These fuckers ain’t very friendly! Your friends are real assholes, you know!” Cornbread yelled as he ducked down under the dash. The truck’s high profile saved them from taking several rounds to the face, but it was already smoking badly. A couple of the rounds had obviously penetrated the radiator, spraying the hood and windshield with oil and antifreeze. Jamie couldn’t see anything through the hazed glass.
Jamie tried his best to control the truck despite not being able to see. A plume of white smoke continued to billow up from the hood. Jamie lowered his head, making himself a smaller target for the assailants. Rounds smacked against the truck, none of them hitting home, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He couldn’t figure out why the members of Camp Brown were shooting at them, but right now, he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting the truck out of the line of fire and getting to a safe distance. He slammed on the brakes and desperately tried to force the truck into reverse. Metal ground against metal, ruining the transmission of the big rig as Jamie continued to force the gearshift to do his bidding. The truck finally gave way, popping unceremoniously into reverse. Both men smacked their heads against the dash as it did.
“I think it goes without saying, but get us the fuck out of here!” Cornbread yelled.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! I’m trying! Start fucking shooting or something!” Jamie hollered, shoving the gearshift.
“I would, but I like my fuckin’ head right where it is, thank you!”
Jamie popped the clutch and slammed the gas simultaneously, spinning tires and forcing the truck backwards. They flew backwards quickly, faster than Jamie had expected. He didn’t have enough time to completely turn the wheel, and the truck slammed against the rock wall across the road with a hard thud. He’d managed to turn the rig just enough to keep Cornbread’s side out of the line of fire. The passenger’s side rear wedged against the wall, slinging it further to the right, and the truck abruptly came to a complete halt. As soon as the truck stopped, Cornbread quickly jumped out, racking his shotgun as he did.
