Just Another Day

by Jacob Louis Sims

  “FUUUUUCK!!!!!” I yelled (more like rasped painfully) after reading that line, “them fuckin’ dicks left me out for lunch!”

  Please don’t be mad!!! (too late) I tried and tried to talk our CO, Col. Dwyer, into sending a team out to get you as soon as we saw you go down, but the fucker kept saying “I am not going to risk the lives of my troops to rescue one man, who we don’t even know is still alive.” The dick. I could see you moving around down there from where I was at on the wall, and I know he could, too. Luckily, I pulled two of the best shooters to keep the zombies off you until Dwyer came to his senses. Oh yeah, Cpl. Dale wants me to let you know he is very sorry for shooting you, but it was the only way to kill the zombie that was about to take a bite out of your arm. Okay… now that that’s out of the way, I’ll get back to the story. After the recovery team got you safe inside the compound, you were rushed to the best gut-tosser we have left (don’t let that scare you, it’s just that the other two doc’s we had got ate along the way) and he patched you up, and then some. I say “and then some” because when Doc and his nurse stripped your clothes off you because they were nasty and covered in all types of things that didn’t belong around an open wound, we were all surprised to find that you were already walking-wounded way before Dale shot you. Yes, I was there and saw you naked. I actually blushed and giggled like a school-girl when Doc yanked your pants down and your dick plopped out.

  “That’s right, bet you liked that that shit, honey…” I said, with a big smile on my face.

  God!, you would swear that I hadn’t seen a dick before, the way I acted - even though it had been a while. Sure, I am the only girl floating in a sea of testosterone, but I’m no slut. Besides, I don’t see guys, I see: Colonel, Private, Specialist, Sergeant, you get the picture… But anyway, you were already all messed up, and I wished you were awake to tell, because you must have had some good stories. Sure would have beat listening to the bullshit stories some of the grunts tell me in their weak attempts to get into my pants. After Doc and the nurse cleaned all the filth and grime from your body and did a thorough inspection for bites and scratches (they would have immediately killed you right then and there if they had found anything even looking like a zombie bite or scratch) they set to fixing you up. Doc says that you either have the highest tolerance to pain that he has ever witnessed, or you are a PCP junkie, because he says that some of the wounds you had sustained would have “felled a rhino”, especially that nasty infection on your side. He even found chunks of glass in there!!! Glass!!! And you used super glue to close it!? Doc says he hasn’t seen that since ‘Nam! You were one messed up individual, and here’s what Doc and the nurse found: your skull was fractured and you’re missing a few teeth; your jaw was fractured; your body was just covered in cuts and bruises; some fingers on your left hand were broken; you had some shrapnel from the mortars in your back; Dale’s gunshot wound plus another from God only knows where!; the super glue stab wound; the big toe on your right foot was broken; there was a Mercedes-Benz hood ornament in sticking out of your groin (had to have been tossed from the mortars, that’s the only thing I could think of), and while he was in there, Doc found that you had a bad hernia(!) so he fixed that too; your right leg was tore up bad ; three broken ribs; and the worst injury, in my opinion, that we didn’t even realize for the first few days - you were in a coma. After Doc and his nurse (Spc. Johnson, his name is) fixed you up as good as new, you were taken and placed with the rest of the wounded, and then connected to the only life support system we had that our head mechanic, Sgt. Guitteriez, picked up when we were in Springfield. I am so glad he had the foresight to grab that out of the blue, because if he hadn’t, there would have been no way to keep you alive. Three weeks went by without any change in your condition, although Doc was happy to see that you were healing up even better than he expected - every time he came in to check up on you, which he did quite often, he kept telling me “I swear, Jesse, he’s got to be a fucking mutant. I ain’t never seen a person heal up this quick. Shee-it!”. That was great to hear, but I would have been a lot happier if he had came in and told me you had woken up, rather than lay there in an eternal dream state. I just hope that whatever was going on in that head of yours, it was nice. You smiled an awful lot while you slept. You even laughed once, I nearly shit! In the middle of the fourth week while Johnson and I were giving you a sponge-bath (which we did twice a week, as well as moved you around to avoid bedsores, and also exercised your arms and legs so they wouldn’t be stiff when you woke up), my squad leader, SSG Grady, came in and told me that our unit (which I laughed at, because at that moment I was in the process of washing your “unit”) was going to be moving out in one week and that I had better be ready to say my good-byes, because you weren’t going to be coming with us. I expected that, so as soon as he left I immediately ran out and found Sgt. Guitteriez and asked him to concoct something that would hopefully keep you alive until you came out of your coma. Lucky for you, he had already been thinking about it, and even had a bunch of shit gathered up that he planned on using to make it happen. He was like MacGyver or something the way he rigged up everything, just without the stupid mullet.

  “Hey now,” I objected, “that mullet was fucking awesome…”

  What he came up with was what you woke up to, although how he did it and how it works are beyond me - I just stood and watched while he and Johnson put it all together. It took the guys a couple of days to finish your “life-saving machine”, as they were rightly calling it (even though it looked like a medieval torture device), and when they were done, they ensured me that it would be able to keep you alive for at least another few weeks to a month. I know that doesn’t sound like a long time, but it was the best Guitteriez could do in the limited amount of time he had and with whatever supplies he was able to scrounge up. Jesus, I have to end this letter, it’s getting a little long. Plus, it’ getting late, and I have to get up in a few hours and help with the final loads for the move. We’re going to move up north, to Chicago. Col. Dwyer got a radio transmission saying that they were making a stand there, and were hoping to clear the city of all the zombies. The fact that he hasn’t heard from them since then doesn’t seem all that important to him. I’m scared, but I have to follow orders. They shoot you now if you don’t, and I definitely don’t want that to happen. So, “Yes sir!” I say, with a smile on my face. Okay… a few last things. You might have missed it, but I put a bag under your bed that has some toiletries, and towels and such. I also had Johnson leave a set of BDU’s in there for you, since you looked to be around his size. There is a shower in the principal’s office (God only knows why he would need one) that you can use, if the water is still on. It was when we left, so it should still be working. Sgt. Guitteriez “disabled” a humvee (he disconnected the start switch and his squad leader took his word that it was meant for the scrap heap - it’s an easy fix), and I put a couple rucks full of MRE’s and ammo in there for you. By ammo, I mean the ammo for the M4/203 I left for you, the SAW, and the M9. I also left you four full fuel cans and four full water cans. They’re marked so you won’t drink from the wrong one. I’m not insinuating that you are stupid or anything, it’s just that I don’t even know if your nose works like it’s supposed to. You better try and get a hold of me, if you do wake up, that is. I want to know that all these preparations were for a reason and not a waste of my time.

  “Highly unlikely,” I mumbled, “especially if you make it to Chicago, lady. If O.K. and his family can barely make it outta there alive, you’s is fucked.”

  How, you ask? Easy, the SINGCARS in the humvee is loaded with our current freq, and it’s one we are not likely to change, as it is the one the unit in Chicago contacted us with. Okay, now I’m going to end this for real… I’m sleepy as hell and I can hardly keep my eyes open… Well, good-bye, whoever you are.

  Your new Friend,

  Spc. Jessica Valdez

  P.S.: Here’s a picture of me so you know who it was who saved you. And i
t’s really me, not some fake picture like lots of people post on Facebook. Oh yeah, the humvee’s at the gas station!

  P.P.S.: In case you’re wondering what day it Is that you woke up on, today’s date is September 23 and it has been exactly four weeks that you’ve been here. I’m not sure this is gonna be any help to you, but I hope it is.

  “Holy fucking shit!!!”, I yelled as I looked at the pic, that showed Jesse in a teeny, tiny little bikini - where she had her license in hand, clearly visible, so I would know it was really her and not some picture that was cut out of a magazine or something. “Thank god my cock still works!!!” If you didn’t get the innuendo, I had a massive erection. Which I took care of with a muthafuckin’ vengeance, yo. Dry-dogged it, even. No spit. Of course, I had to do it after I pulled the catheter from my cock, which almost ruined the moment - but nothing beats my damn boners. Only me.

  74

  “Jesus Christ, that was some letter,” I rasped, as I lay there contemplating what the epic letter said (my libido now sated), why she even wrote it in the first place, and my next course of action, as well - ‘cause that floor was mighty uncomfortable, my back was aching something fierce, and I needed to get moving forward again.

  Finished with my quiet contemplation of the letter and its smokin’ author, I set the letter and the pic on the floor and attempted to drag and pull myself to my feet, using the door handle as leverage. It was fuckin’ hard as hell and I felt as weak as a kitten, but after about fifteen long minutes - and a few tries - I was up and a-rearin’ to go.

  “All right, motherfucker… that done,” I mumbled to myself, my voice sounding like I had been gargling broken glass mixed with rocks mixed with… honey, “now let’s see if I can make it back through this fuckin’ mess here, get that bag, then go find that fuckin’ principal’s office, ‘cause I fuckin’ stiiiiink!!! Whoooo!!! Hope the water still works…”

  It was a long, arduous journey, but I eventually got the bag from under the bed - which I did see, but just thought was some of my soiled bed sheets - and took a long shower, and cleaned the gunk of many a long day and night unbathed off my body. The water was cold as day old shit, as there was no power, but I wasn’t complaining - I was just glad the water still ran, cold or not.

  Once I was thoroughly cleaned and refreshed (and still naked, but I wasn’t worried about being seen anymore), and with a belly full of water, I ambled outside - Jesse’s pic in hand - to go look for the Humvee she had left me, and it was right where she said it would be. And it was even Up-Armored!

  “Goddamn,” I said, sounding a little better after chugging shower water, “I gotta hand it to her - this shit is mighty impressive.”

  Content with what I saw in the hummer, I put Jesse’s sticky picture in the driver’s window (didn’t even need any tape) so I’d have something beautiful to look at as I drove through a world full of ugliness, and turned and walked back to the principal’s office. Once there, I threw on the BDU’s (which fit like they were made for me - even the boots fit), shouldered the bag of goodies, and then left the school to find someplace to sleep where the beds weren’t covered in my shit and piss yet ‘cause it was fuckin’ dark as sackcloth out and I was motherfuckin’ exhausted… Shit, I was even too tired to eat, and I hadn’t eaten in gawd only knows how long! At least the water I drank in the shower had revitalized me a bit.

  I walked in a nice leisurely pace down Main Street, scanning my surroundings as I went, and broke into the first house I came upon that wasn’t unlocked and that didn’t have a car in the driveway. I figured that if the house was unlocked and there was a car in the driveway, there was a good chance that I might have a surprise inside - like rotting bodies piled everywhere. With the house locked up tight and no car in the drive, I figured that meant whoever had lived there had left alive and well - ‘cause you don’t lock doors when you’re running for your life. And I wasn’t too worried about running into a zombie behind locked doors, ‘cause I was pretty sure the Army would want any place they were occupying to be threat free, and a zombie locked in a house is just as deadly as a zombie in the street.

  Sure enough, the place was unoccupado. I did a quick run-through just in case there was some unforeseen surprise waiting for me in one of the rooms, but just as I thought, there weren’t shee-it. The place was as empty as a church on a Tuesday afternoon and as quiet as a tomb.

  As I searched through the rooms, I noticed that the house was strangely neat and orderly, with no signs of hurried packing that one would assume to find in an empty house during the Zombie Apocalypse. When I got to the kitchen, I looked at the calendar and found the reason why - it turned out that whoever it was that lived in the house had gone on vacation about a week before all this shit started going down. The poor saps had no clue that they would probably never see their home again and that their world would end. I just hope that they’re okay and safe, wherever they are.

  After locking all the doors and making sure all the lower windows were secure (just in case there was a zombie or some other threat in Grand Ridge - which I highly doubted, but you can never be too careful), I went upstairs to the bedroom and dropped into the bed, where I fell fast asleep.

  I don’t know what time it was when I woke up the next day, but the sun was already up and the birds were happily chirping in the trees. It was so serene that I just laid there in bed - listening - for what must have been hours and hours, judging by how far I saw the shadows in the room move. Eventually, the rumbling of my stomach became something that I couldn’t ignore, and I got my ass outta bed and went downstairs to see what I could find to eat in the kitchen.

  The fridge was without a doubt out of the question, as the power was out, so I hit the cupboards first thing to see what kind of grub I could find. On the fourth one I hit the jackpot - I found where the snacks were kept. Fuck yeah! There was boxes of Cheez-it’s, Pop-Tarts, a couple packs of Twizzler’s, a box of Zinger’s, a bag of tortilla chips and three unopened jars of nacho cheese, a twelve pack of Mountain Dew, and a big-ass bag of beef jerky. It was the treasure trove. A single tear rolled down my cheek.

  I didn’t leave that kitchen until it was full dark, and that was just to go to bed - the few times I had to piss I just opened the kitchen door and pissed on the porch. For some reason I didn’t have to shit, and in a way I was glad of that ‘cause I was a little afraid - I hadn’t eaten any solid foods for a long motherfuckin’ time and had visions of the torment I was sure to endure when it all made its way back outta me.

  75

  The next day I woke up to those happy birds again and smiled at the prospect of a bright new day… and bounded out that motherfuckin’ bed like a fuckin’ rocket, ‘cause all of a sudden it felt like my stomach was all knotted up and on fire - that shit I had been worried about had come a-knockin’ at my door. My back door. I thought I had known pain before… but I was so wrong. Dead wrong. While the death-brick forced its way out of my body, I understood the pain that a woman must feel during child birth.

  After my post-shit shower was over and I brushed my grill and combed my beard out, I threw on the BDU’s and went back to the kitchen to get something to eat. Once my hunger was sated, I stepped out onto the porch and took in my surroundings.

  While I was dropping my kids off at the pool, I decided that after I was done should go on a house to house for supplies and food-stuffs and shit - ‘cause who the fuck knew when I would get a better chance to gather up whatever I might need, right? I needed to get a move on and get on to Streator, ‘cause I had no clue as to how long I was out and I didn’t want to waste any more time than I already had, but I didn’t want to get there and find myself wanting. So as I stood there, cringing at the thought of all the blood running down the shower drain, I figured I’d start on “my” block and go on from there, and then do three blocks only. After that… rolling.

  Since I didn’t feel like wasting the time to walk back and get the hummer, I did the hunt on foot and just piled up everything I found on the s
idewalks in front of each house. I knew that even though the Army had been occupying Grand Ridge for a while, that I would still find a lot of shit that would be useful - the Army isn’t the scavenging and pillaging type, they’re a pretty self-sufficient beast. And find a lot of shit I did. It was like when we did the same thing at Gus’s - I found tons of food-stuffs that wouldn’t spoil anytime soon, clothes that fit me so I wouldn’t have to wear the same nasty shit over and over again, lots of toiletries (soaps, toothpastes and brushes, tons of toilet paper, towels and washcloths, etc., each item a motherfuckin’ necessity), lots and lots of beer (of which I partook of as soon as I found the first one and kept on partaking of during the rest of the hunt - most of it was warm, but mah gawd was it nice!), and the icing on the cake, which made me even happier than I was when I found the beer (but only slightly) - more guns and ammo!!! Fuck yeah!!!

  Another thing I found on my little hunt, which proved to be the most important thing ever, was a working digital watch - one that told you the date as well as the time. The date on the watch - if it was right - said that it was September 28, meaning that I came out of my coma damn near right after Jesse and the Army left. That explained why my body wasn’t in too bad of shape when I woke up and why my back and ass wasn’t all bed-sored up. Fuckin’ A! It still sucked that I was out for an entire fucking month, though. What a jip!