The Eliminators | Volume 1

by Druga, Jacqueline

  “It did. And I can’t quit, I can’t stop. Not because I have nothing else to do or live for, but because I need to find out what’s going on. Something isn’t right and the only way I am going to find out what’s up, is to be on a team. And I will find out.” After another long look at his notepad and a few flips of the pages, he closed it and put it away.

  TWELVE

  The RV rolled to a stop. “Okay, we hit a zone,” Barry announced. “Looks like maybe twenty or thirty.”

  “Where are we at?” Rigs asked.

  “Hannibal, Illinois. It’s right up ahead.”

  “Oh,” Sandy said chipper. “Home of Mark Twain. We should stop. They have a museum.”

  “I don’t have it cleared,” said Rigs, then looked to New Guy. “Do you?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s take them out, maybe see Mark Twain’s home.”

  “See, now, that sounds like a good idea?” Rigs stood. “Rach, top side of ground?”

  New Guy answered before she did. “I’ll take top. I mean if that’s okay.”

  “Sure.” Rigs shrugged. “You got it. Kasper. Ready?”

  Kasper emerged from the back. He carried a spear, Arrows, and aside from a rifle, he also carried a gladius. “Yeah.”

  “Watch your ammunition everyone,” Rigs said. “We have weeks before we get more.” He moved to the door. “Sandy, hang tight, keep the doors latched.”

  She gave a thumbs up and sat on the couch. “I’ll watch from here.”

  “Barry, you’re on door duty, keep them away,” Rigs instructed. “Rach and Kasper you’re with me up front.”

  “Got it,” Rachel said.

  “New Guy,” Rigs said. “Despite what you wanted, you now just learned everyone’s name. You first because you’re topside.”

  New Guy grabbed his bag and shouldered it and moved to the door.

  “Let’s go,” Rigs said. “Let’s get this cleared.”

  New Guy left first, followed by Rachel.

  Kasper paused before he stepped out. “Hey, uh, Rigs? Who’s Mark Twain?”

  They all had walked out and Sandy secured the doors on the RV, she then took a seat on the front couch to watch, but before she did, she grabbed that Senior Lady magazine.

  Ammunition was rationed, which was a good thing, because the sound of gunfire only attracted more. If there were already twenty on the road, there had to be more ahead.

  Truly one of the best weapons when fighting up close and personal was the honing rod. It was funny because Rigs had one in his kitchen to sharpen knives and never once thought of it as a weapon.

  They impaled nicely with little effort. Everyone had their favorite spot to aim for, Rigs was the temple.

  Quickly he scanned and counted—Rigs was good at that—there were twenty-three.

  Rachel and Kasper were on the warrior kick, dangerously heading into the pack while Rigs and Barry took a closer stance near the RV.

  Kasper used his sword taking the first one out, then the second, slicing upwards from the nose and staying true to his saying, ‘be humane, destroy the brain’.

  Twenty-two, twenty-one, twenty …

  Rachel was more artistic, but always cautious. Choosing her spots wisely and taking a little more time than Kasper but no less efficient. She became quite versed in using a staff and the art of Aikido. She learned a lot from watching that TV show and other DVDs. While she was mostly self-taught, she did run into a Major in the air force who spent time teaching her. She’d bring down the dead, sweeping them from their feet, then impale.

  Nineteen … eighteen.

  Rigs took out one.

  Seventeen wasn’t bad and none got near the side of the RV.

  A few arrows few from overhead, obviously from New Guy.

  For their first time out with New Guy in the team, they were actually doing well.

  Rigs stepped forward, taking out another, then did another quick scan count.

  Never did it take him long, but the dead often didn’t need long.

  With Rachel and Kasper at a distance, and Barry off to the side of the RV, Rigs was in a tough to save position when one of the dead lunged his way. He stepped back to shove him, making some room to impale when another grabbed hold of him.

  Just as he thought, there it was, he had suddenly become the red shirt, what looked like a wire loop sailed down over the head of the one to his right. A split second later, an arrow impaled the forehead of the other one. And instantly following that, the head popped off the one on his right.

  What the fuck? Rigs wondered and imbedded that moment to memory to ask about later.

  He needed to get it together, there were still nine left.

  Perhaps it wasn’t funny, not the moment or situation, but Barry found it amusing.

  He was keeping an eye out, ready and waiting for maybe one to slip through. When a runner came racing from the side of the road.

  They moved fast but weren’t thinkers, not that any of the dead were, but runners seemed more fueled by a rage to eat than meandering to a meal like the others. Once close they usually aimlessly leapt for their victim.

  Barry heard the rustle of the branches, the crunch against the cold soil, and looked up to see him coming.

  Barry dodged out of the way just as the dead jumped for him. He slammed right into the RV at the window where Sandy was engrossed in her magazine.

  It was a loud bang and thump.

  Sandy only raised her head, looked and returned to reading.

  Had the attacks and dead become so commonplace that the ‘startled’ effect was lost.

  When the dead man spun to Barry, he shoved the honing rod up into his jaw.

  The dead went down.

  “You okay?” New Guy shouted.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Barry gave a thumbs up.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough. I heard him …”

  “No. No. I’m good.” Barry said, then tapped on the window.

  Sandy lifted her head, smiled and returned to reading.

  <><><><>

  It didn’t take them long to clear the hoard and move the carcasses off the road. Barry returned to the driver’s seat and Sandy was hard put to give up that magazine.

  The RV was moving before they were settled and cleaned up.

  “That …” Rigs said with excitement to New Guy as he put his weapons away. “Was super impressive. I mean, we had guys that did some cool shit, but when you did that lasso thing, you stopped me from being a … what does Kasper call them, a red shirt.”

  “Dude,” Kasper said with a laugh. “It doesn’t work like that. A red shirt really doesn’t have a background story. The team occasionally calls out their name like their pals, but no one really knows them. They really are there to be killed.”

  “But wouldn’t I be his red shirt.” Rigs pointed to New Guy.

  “Yeah.” Kasper shrugged. “I guess you would. What do you mean … lasso?”

  “Just this thing I made,” New Guy said. “I use wire as a lasso, I lasso them, then yank. It goes right through their neck.”

  “You have to be good with a lasso to do that,” Kasper said.

  “I like to think so. I spent twelve years with the rodeo.”

  “Now that’s something you don’t come across in a zombie apocalypse movie,” Kasper said. “A rodeo star. Though … you don’t sound like a cowboy.”

  “What do you mean I don’t sound like a cowboy?”

  “Hmm,” Kasper nodded. “Cowboys have that polite southern drawl you have more of a red … redneck vibe. Anyhow, maybe I’ll call you Cowboy. And you’re starting to let more and more information slip. And ... we’ve only known you a couple hours.”

  “What were the other members of your team like?” Rigs asked. “Can you tell us that?”

  “A lot like you guys,” New Guy answered. “I mean, we didn’t have any women on our ….” He looked up. “Are we slowing down?”

  “Yep,” Barry answered. “Looks like we have a straggler.
I’ll stop so we can pick him off.”

  Rigs stood, making his way to the front. On the side of the road the man moved. His hair gray, long and stringy. In his right hand he held on to a backpack strap, dragging the bag as he walked. Even though Rigs could only see the back of him, he had to be fresh.

  “We don’t need to be too far,” Rigs said. “He’s not a runner. Pull up by him.”

  “Roger that.”

  A few more feet at a slow pace and the man on the road stopped. He turned around, faced the RV and held out his arm with a ‘thumbs up’.

  “Is he … is he hitchhiking?” Rigs asked.

  “I believe he is.” Barry stopped the RV.

  <><><><>

  The roadside stranger gratefully embraced Rigs the second he saw him, then placed his hand on his chest in an ‘I’m humbled and honored’ way when invited to board the RV. His face was worn from a hard life, possibly the drink, because he did smell of it. He didn’t seem drunk, but then not one of them knew him well enough to gauge.

  “Have you been walking long?” Barry asked.

  Road Man nodded.

  “Are you thirsty?” Sandy asked. “Would you like something to drink?”

  He replied with a nod.

  “Food.”

  He pressed his lips together with a thank you smile and nodded once more.

  “So.” Barry said down across from him. “What’s your name?”

  His reply was vocally. A rusty and coarse edge to it, but his first, single one word, one syllable answer wasn’t a real name. It sounded like ‘Ill or Mill’ but without the ‘l’ sound. In fact, he followed his name with another comment. It was unclear, because he didn’t speak real words. Everything he said came out like short syllable sounds in random order, no hard consonant, mixed in with a bit of slurring.

  Everyone just stared.

  Except for Rachel, she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Bill. I’m Rachel. That’s Barry,” she pointed for his convenience. “Sandy, Kasper, Rigs and the new guy. We don’t know his name, he’s being mysterious. You can call him New Guy, Cowboy or Red shirt.”

  Bill laughed then said, “Ah eh un a oo.”

  “Don’t we all.” Rachel chuckled.

  Bill strung together some more sounds coming across like a question.

  “Sure,” Rachel said. “I’ll be right back. I have some good stuff in my bag. Excuse me.” She stood, reached for the cabinet above the sink, pulled out two glasses and walked to the back.

  Rigs followed. She was pulling a bottle out of the duffle bag when he walked in.

  “Should I bring the whole thing?” Rachel asked. “Maybe not. He did say he has a bit of a problem. He can have the cheap stuff.”

  “You … you really understand him?”

  “Yeah,” Rachel cocked back. “You don’t?”

  “No. I don’t think any of us can.”

  “That’s silly. You just have to listen.” She poured two drinks. “Well, okay, maybe I’m more experience. My uncle talked exactly like that. Add dehydration, his tongue is dry, it’s really hard.”

  “He has a medical condition?”

  “Not really. He just doesn’t have teeth.”

  Rigs hurriedly spun around as if he could see Bill. “He doesn’t?”

  Rachel shook her head. “No. I bet he lost them somewhere.”

  “That’s crazy perceptive of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “He’s not going to be too big of a threat then if he would turn.”

  “That’s so not funny.”

  “Yes, it was,” Rigs said. “Anyhow … your uncle was the same way?”

  Rachel nodded. “And …” she lifted the glasses. “My uncle was also a big drinker. You think he’s hard to understand now, wait.”

  “Swell.”

  Rachel walked by him.

  “Rach,” Rigs called her, causing her to stop. “Look, can you do us a favor? And it’s for Bill too. Since you understand him can you maybe repeat his answer or what he says in a way that he doesn’t think you’re translating?”

  “You want me to secretly translate what he’s saying?”

  “Yes,” Rigs replied. “But don’t be obvious.”

  “You don’t want it obvious?”

  “No.” Rigs shook his head. “We just want to know what he is saying that way he’s not, you know, feeling bad because none of us understand him.”

  “You don’t want him to know you can’t understand him because it will make him feel bad?”

  “Yeah and …” Rigs groaned. “I get what you’re doing. Yeah, just like that.”

  Rachel sipped one of the drinks and winked. “You got it.” She headed back to the rest of the group with Rigs close by.

  Bill graciously accepted the drink, downing it instantly while the others looked at Rachel.

  “What?” Rachel asked. “Get your own.”

  “Bill,” Barry said. “Can we take you somewhere?”

  Bill shook his head then lifted his shoulders. “Ah, ah, ee, I, eh.”

  “No where we can take you?” Rachel asked.

  Bill shook his head.

  “I’m going to apologize,” Barry said,. “I’m just having a little bit of a difficult time understanding you.”

  Bill gave a thumbs up.

  “I don’t,” Rachel said.

  Bill smiled.

  “We ran into a pack,” Barry said. “The dead are thick here, from what I heard. Did you run into many?”

  Bill rolled his eyes slightly upward and made an attempt to whistle, but his lips only fluttered. He waved out his hand giving up.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Barry said. “What are you doing out here alone? Do you travel alone? Is that your thing or something else?”

  Bill shook his head. Then Bill began to journey into a story, long and animated. His hands moved, his face distorted from scared to angry as he rambled on and on for a good five minutes.

  There was a moment of silence after he finished and everyone turned to Rachel. Who had an incredibly serious look on her face as she seemed to slip into a daze.

  “Rach?” Rigs snapped his finger in front of her face.

  “Oh. Sorry,” Rachel said. “He got separated from his group.”

  Everyone groaned.

  “Really?” Kasper asked. “All that wordage and it’s as simple as he got separated from his group?”

  “I paraphrased. But that’s it.”

  Rigs knew that wasn’t it. Aside from the fact that far too much came from Bill’s mouth for it to be that easy, Bill’s expression was one of confusion as Rachel instantly locked into a stare with Bill. That told Rigs, there was more to the truth she heard, a lot more.

  <><><><>

  They weren’t bad people and he could have gotten a worse team. Maybe one less experienced or not as quirky. E-Team Division One, Unit four were an interesting bunch and like his previous team, the core group had been together since the outbreak. Surviving, traveling and joining up with the Congresswoman. They signed up early, too. The fact that their unit number was ‘four’ told him that. As the newest member, they treated him better than a ‘red shirt’, even though during the course of the first day they called him a variety of names.

  Maybe he was a bit harsh not giving up his identity to them, but he was still grieving the loss of his own team.

  One thing was certain, they did things differently. E-Team D1U4 didn’t give themselves a team name like everyone else. They didn’t do what others did when setting up a camp, they didn’t clear a house and move in, they found a storage unit facility, because as Kasper told him, they usually had fences surrounding them.

  The one they located did, they drove the RV in, secured the fence, took out the few stragglers of dead and made camp.

  They’d be in Riverside a while cleaning up. Typically a stop was for a few weeks. That was how long it took for his team to clear an area. According to E-Team D1U4, the house would come after they cleared a street.


  He saw a lot of dead, more than he should have especially since a sweep team was supposed to have gone through there.

  The team didn’t seem to say much about that.

  They spent a good part of the evening around a table planning the strategy for the first day.

  While New Guy spent a lot of the evening sitting and talking with Sandy by the campfire. He was leery about the fire as it did attract the dead. Most of the dead they ignored and only took out the ones that were runners simply because they could climb the fence.

  Runners were typically only a few days dead, he was surprised there were that many around in a dead empty area.

  Bill said he saw a lot of runners on the road. A translation courtesy of Rachel.

  Sandy had said she’d eventually understand him but didn’t see the gentleman being with them too long, they’d drop him off at a center with survivors.

  Sandy had prepared a great meal for everyone. At first the new guy thought she was a team caretaker, or den mother like fraternities had. A lot of teams had one, but Sandy wasn’t recruited, she chose to be there and it surprised him to find out she was a doctor.

  She took charge of making sure people were well and the only time she killed an infected was when the person was still alive. She euthanized them at their request.

  She retired early, sleeping in the RV.

  Her little camping chair was still next to him as he played with the small fire.

  It was quiet and he was a bit anxious about the next day.

  “Jack?” Rachel said from behind him extending a fifth before his eyes.

  “Now, how did you figure out my …” he noticed the bottle and the word slipped out at the same time. “Name. You were talking about the booze, weren’t you?”

  “Yep.” She sat on the camping stool. “So, Jack. Your name, not the booze.”

  “Yep. Pretty lucky.”

  “I’ve been on the ball with psychic things all day,” Rachel poured him some on a paper cup, then poured another. “I asked Rigs to join us. I wanted to talk to you both.”

  Jack flinched some. “You wanted to talk to me?”