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Authors: William Allen

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Hunger Driven: A Zombie Short Story (7 page)

BOOK: Hunger Driven: A Zombie Short Story
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“Oh, yes.  There’s maybe two hundred left in the whole gang.  The bikers are all insane, high all the time and just part of Arturo’s army.  They do scouting runs and handle errands.  The rest are as bad, or worse.  Cartel guys, from the Mexican drug gangs.  They run a big chunk of what’s left of Beaumont.”

“But you seem sure they will come.  Why is that?”

“Because Arturo Sandoval is a hypochondriac and I am his last doctor.  And I just ran off with six of his newest girls, all intended to go to his lieutenants as their wives.  Really, their slaves.”

I let out a low whistle, and then looked around guiltily to see if any of the few remaining crawlers were coming.

“Good for you, Doc.  And yeah, he’ll be sending more guys.  My name’s Brad McCoy, and it’s nice to meet you.”

When I stuck out my hand to shake, the doctor started to take my hand but looked more closely and scrutinized the gloves was I wearing.

“I’m Kelly.  Kelly Gooden.  Just call me Kelly, or Doc.  And, I’m sorry, but are you bleeding?”

I looked down.  The leather tip on the index finger did look a little darkened and I saw another bloody spot in the palm of my hand.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.  It isn’t a bite or anything, but an occupational hazard.”

Doctor Gooden gave me a funny look and said she’d fix me up if I had some medical supplies, explaining simply that most of hers went up in the car fire.  Then, she turned and then knocked on the door, calling out, “Hey, this is Doc Kelly.  We need to talk.”

Doctor Gooden.  Ah, Doc Gooden.  The younger generation probably didn’t even get it, but apparently the young physician knew something of her baseball history.  But she didn’t look anything like her namesake, and I resolved not to tease her about the name.  I wasn’t feeling too playful anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

After she cleaned up my hands and said I was going to live, Kelly insisted on bringing me around to meet the rest of what she called “the girls”.  On closer inspection I found out she really meant what she said.  The oldest looked like she might be college aged, barely, and the youngest should still have been in pigtails, as my Daddy used to say.  I couldn’t remember their names and I really didn’t want to hear their horror stories of captivity.  We all had our stories, and I didn’t need to know any more about theirs.  Cold, sure, but that was the new world.  She tried to return my small medical kit but I told her to take it.  I had a spare under the seat of the truck.

After giving the gathered ladies my abbreviated introduction to the Safe Zones, I backed the Ford up to the rear of the restaurant and loaded them into the truck bed.  The drive across the street came as a bit of a letdown, since I promised them transportation.  I backed into the open service bay, then jumped out and lowered the door.  I swept the offices and small attached warehouse and found nothing.  The dead had already been cleared, but I wanted to make sure no new occupants had drifted in since my last visit.

Once the girls were offloaded, I went through my stash in the metal tool box mounted on one side of the truck bed and found some MREs and a variety of snack foods for the hungry ladies.  All I had for them to drink was water, but nobody complained.

“Van’s out back,” I explained.  “I stashed it here with some help a week ago when I came in to survey.  I always have a backup plan.”

Kelly nodded around the energy bar she’d stuffed in her face and fondled the AR-15 I’d traded to her for the Raven 25 caliber pistol.  Only after she handed over the piece of junk did I realize she was out of rounds for the thing.

“You know how to use that?” I asked, curious.  She handled the adjustable stock Rock River model AR rifle with familiar hands.  Not what I was expecting from a doctor.

“Yeah.  It’s coming back.  Just what I remember from qualifying in Basic.  I did four years in the Air Force right out of high school to help pay for college.  Medical school piled on a bunch of debt, but I guess my lender will just have to suck it.  Not going to be making any loan payments for a while.”

“Yes, a lot of that going around.  Like I said, there’s a van out back.  Full tank of gas, prepped and ready to go.  Don’t wreck it.  It is just a loaner to get you where you need to be.  Easy drive, straight through on 190 until you reach the first checkpoint.  That is just this side of Woodville.  There’s a Guard camp set up in the downtown area and I think they are using the county courthouse for staging.  Anyway, get on the radio when you get about ten miles outside of town, let them know you are coming.  They will take care of you from there.”

“And where are you going to be in all this?  I saw the streets outside. There’s got to be three, maybe four thousand dead infected out there.  I think your job here is done.”

“Yes.  Closer to six or seven thousand, actually.  Right around the Dollar General the bodies are pretty deep.  There’s probably a couple hundred lurkers and crawlers scattered around town but I can get those later.  In the meantime, I’m going to lay low and wait for Sandoval’s boys to show up.”

Kelly gave me a look that spoke volumes.  Mainly, that I was being a moron.

“Not all of his men are as stupid as those bikers.  I think he uses them as cannon fodder, but he has some men, his soldiers, and I think they really used to be soldiers in the Mexican Army.  Heck, maybe in the American Army.  If he sends them, you won’t stand a chance.”

“Well, that depends.  I’m not a soldier, just an exterminator.  But I know we can’t let a shitbag like Sandoval take Jasper from us.  Plus, this town is my home.  Or at least, I grew up here.  Damned if I’m going to let some drug thug take over.  So, I need you to haul ass to Woodville and get in touch with Colonel William Northcutt.  Tell him what you know, and that I’ll hold as long as I can.

“Now, the commander in Woodville is an officer name Captain Shurman.  I don’t want to prejudice you, but the guy’s a bit of an asshole.”

Kelly actually managed a chuckle at that.  I continued.

  “And, he doesn’t like me one bit.  If he tries to give you the runaround, find Sergeant Lawrence.  He’s a communications specialist, and he works for the Colonel, not Shurman.”

As I finished my comments about Shurman, I saw Kelly stiffen.  She didn’t need the extra stress I was placing on her, but people in Hell needed ice water.  I waved to get her attention.

“Kelly, Shurman is not going to harm a hair on your head.  I don’t know what happened in Beaumont, and probably don’t want to know.  Nothing like that is going on here, though.  Northcutt is in charge under martial law, true, but he’s a good man.  He’s been trying to knit things together here, and he is responsible for saving thousands of lives.”

“Thousands?  How many survivors are a part of these Safe Zones?”

I shrugged, not really sure.  I stayed away from the crowded camps and stuck close to the homestead.

“Maybe ten thousand?  I don’t have current numbers, but more people are drifting in every week.  More often, now that we are expanding.  Or maybe we are expanding because more survivors keep turning up.”

Kelly goggled at the numbers, and confided she didn’t think there were five hundred survivors in the whole Golden Triangle area.   I winced but the news wasn’t unexpected.  Interstate 10 carried tens of thousands of infected, but unturned, victims from Houston to points all over the state.  Beaumont was barely seventy miles away and nearly a straight shot on he interstate. 

I went on, needed to make my point.

“The Captain doesn’t like me and that’s all.  Says I’m just a mercenary.  Maybe he’s right.  In fact, probably wouldn’t hurt your credibility with him if you complain about how mean I was to you.  But, you have to convince the Colonel to send troops.”

Doctor Gooden was exhausted but willing to answer my detailed questions about the force likely to be dispatched by the Mexican drug smuggler to recover his pet physician.  He couldn’t send every gun thug under his command, since a large portion of them remained engaged with simply guarding their base, which was centered around the Christus St. Elizabeth Hospital.

On the bad side, Sandoval managed to acquire several Humvees from the local Army Reserve base, but Doctor Gooden felt confident the heavy weapons for those vehicles, the machine guns normally mounted on the trucks, could not be located.  Also, Sandoval had plenty of automatic weapons but a shortage of ammunition. 

For example, he had the guards at the hospital taking out zombies with spears, which while a good idea meant he was probably having to husband his ammo.  Well, shooting zombies with fully automatic AK47s, or M4s for that matter, had proven to be a losing formula for armies around the world.  A soldier might burn through an entire magazine and achieve one or two kills.  So the other five or ten, or two hundred, zombies in the pod or horde would simply seep over a position and eat everyone trying to reload.  I saw some pretty horrible videos on the internet before the whole thing crashed.

“Get those girls somewhere safe.  And get me some soldiers here.”

Kelly finished eating her power bar and stood quickly, slinging the rifle.  And before I knew what she was doing, the woman threw her arms around me in a hug that made my tired bones ache. 

“Just lay low, Mr. McCoy.  Don’t get killed. I’ll get them to send you some help.  Even if I have to lead them back myself.”

 

          

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Seized with an urgent need to move, Kelly chivvied up the girls under her care and was on the road within the hour.  I watched them roll out with a sense of satisfaction.  I was a miserable, sour old man, but I hoped my wife was looking down to see how I’d done right by these girls in need.

Banishing these painful memories, I forced my tired body into motion and set about making some moves before the expected guests rolled into town.  First thing I did was drive out to the four mangled motorcycles and straightened up a bit.   I towed the bikes off the road and made sure all four riders were down for good.  I didn’t try to clean up the site, just disguise what was under each pile of wrecked metal by adding more wreckage on top.  Not perfect, but all I could manage while fending off the occasional shamble and multiple crawlers that turned up.

One crawler nearly scared me to death as he managed to clamp down on the back of my left heel, but the thick work boots I wore didn’t even show a scratch after I blew the creature’s brains all over the pavement.  I made sure to angle the pistol so I had no chance of catching the round on the way out.  Not only would that suck, it would also almost guarantee I would be infected with this plague.  I’d never seen that happen, but I knew someone who did.  I believed her.

Once the bikers’ fate was sufficiently muddied, I retreated back to the Dollar General rooftop and began making plans.  I could try to relocate to another shooting roost, and hope the drug lord’s men didn’t roll in on me in the middle of getting set up.  With my luck, I didn’t like the odds.  I’d make my stand here.

Now, I was not a people person, but that didn’t mean I was Rainman.  I was a numbers guy in my old job, but I had to be pretty good at judging people, too.  Doctor Gooden had no evidence to back up her claims, but I looked at the girls she was escorting.  I mean, really looked, and took the time to read their eyes.  They were terrified, and not of the dead.  Whether her pursuer was a Mexican drug lord or the King of England, whoever released their hounds to chase these girls had to be in the wrong.

Looking around with a new eye, I saw something that caught my attention immediately.  About six hundred yards from the store I spied something that might be a game changer.  The small tanker truck was a mess, having smashed into a concrete barrier and the whole front of the twelve wheel vehicle was caved in and ruined.  Obviously, that truck was not moving short of a massive wrecker.  The kind used to haul 18 wheelers.  However, I was remembering something I saw on a YouTube video.

Walking around the edges of the roof, I saw a parked RV down the street.  Maybe, I thought, maybe that will have what I need.  I could feel the time passing as I climbed back down and drove over to check the big recreational vehicle.

Not sure where the tank would be, I tried the door and found the entrance unlocked.  Pulling my pistol, the quiet one, I eased the door open.  I knew I was rushing things, not following my own protocols, but still I was shocked when the creature leaped at me.

He had to have heard me coming and instead of jumping at the door and pounding, he’d been waiting for me, torn lips pulled back in a welcoming grimace and clawed hands grasping at me.  He was long dead and still pretty spry, especially for a tub of lard, as he launched himself at my throat.

BOOK: Hunger Driven: A Zombie Short Story
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