Zombie Rules (Book 4): Destiny (34 page)

“We’ve got incoming,” Kelly said breathlessly on the radio. “Two SUVs full of people. Possibly six men. I see at least one long gun.”

“Team one, rally at the entrance,” I ordered. Justin nodded and gave a hand signal to his team.

“Team two, follow me,” he commanded.

We’d discussed this possibility and had planned for it. In the event of any contact with humans, my team would make the initial contact while Justin’s team provided cover. We hustled out of the ER’s doors just as the two SUVs hopped the curbs and slid to a stop in the mud. Each of us spread out and took up positions. Kelly and Josue were hidden inside the semi, as planned, and this crew had not even seen them as they drove past.

There were six of them, all men, a mixture of races and age, and all of them armed with an assortment of weapons. They lined up in front of their SUVs like it was high noon at the OK corral. Sarah and I walked out into the open and stopped. There was a distance of about fifty feet between us. I gave a halfhearted wave. Two of them walked forward and stopped ten feet away.

“Who’re you assholes?” the older one of them demanded. I looked him over. He was somewhere around thirty with long greasy hair and an unkempt beard. He was holding a pump action shotgun that had spots of rust all over it, which told me a lot about this man. He held it casually, but ready for use.

“Who are you?” I countered. He sneered at me with a set of teeth in desperate need of a good dental hygienist.

“I asked you a question,” he demanded again.

“Fair enough. My name’s Zach and I don’t appreciate a dirt bag like you making insulting remarks.” He was taken aback, obviously not used to being talked to like I just did. Before he could respond, a teenage boy stepped forward in an apparent attempt to look menacing.

“Don’t you be talking shit to King Ro,” he said menacingly. Well, as menacingly as a scrawny, pencil-necked peckerwood could sound. “This is our turf.”

“King Ro?” Sarah asked. The man grinned proudly, although I have no idea what he was so proud of.

“Yeah, that’s me, baby. I see you looking me over. Like what you see?” The peckerwood chuckled derisively.

“You should call yourself King Turd,” she replied. “I can smell you from here.”

His smile turned back to a sneer and he started to bring his shotgun to bear. I already had my handgun drawn, but King Ro beat me to the punch, in a manner of speaking.

Oh, it wasn’t a good clean shot at Sarah or me. The mighty King violated one of those rules of gun safety Rick had hammered in my brain; keep your finger off of the trigger until you’re on target and ready to shoot. He accidentally shot his little buddy, who instantly fell to the ground howling in pain and wiggling around on the ground like a dying cockroach.

King Ro stared at his companion a moment and started to rack another round into the chamber, but he was frozen in place when he heard a voice behind them.

“Don’t any of you move!” Kelly shouted, causing the rest of them to jump and look behind them. She and Josue had exited the truck and were now pointing their assault rifles at them.

“You people are so stupid you don’t even see the rest of our crew,” I said. They looked back at me and I pointed behind me with my thumb. It was only then that Justin and his team revealed themselves. They didn’t move, but they were anxious, I could see it in their eyes.

“You men are outnumbered,” I said sternly as I slowly stepped forward. “Drop your weapons if you want to live. It’d be a shame for all of you to be killed after everything you’ve been through. Besides,” I said and gestured at the kid who was sobbing in pain, “we’ve got a doctor who can help your friend.”

“You’ll really help Roman?” one of them asked skeptically. He was about my age and even though he was dirty as hell, he looked pretty tough. I nodded.

“You have my word.” He looked at me a long moment and then looked at his friends. King Ro piped up.

“It ain’t going to work that way,” he said and continued staring at me menacingly.

“Can it, Ro,” the tough one said. “Your boy needs help.” He looked pointedly at his friends.

“Do what he says,” he told them and lay his rifle down in the mud gently, as if doing so would prevent it from getting dirty. The others reluctantly followed suit. King Ro refused and continued staring at me. I knew something needed to be done before he raised that shotgun. I charged forward and struck him in the head with the Kimber. He groaned in pain as he fell to the ground and I quickly took the shotgun away from him. The rest of them remained still.

Kelly and Josue gathered up their weapons while we covered them and then ordered them to have a seat on the muddy ground. Justin’s team moved in then and I watched as Grant jogged quickly over to the bus and retrieve his medical bag before jogging over to the kid.

King Ro was quiet now. He rubbed his face anxiously at the sudden turn of events. I watched him warily. He jumped when Roman emitted a shriek of pain. He looked both scared and worried. It seemed like more worry than normal. I made the connection.

“Is he your son?” I asked. King Ro glared at me, but then nodded.

“You shot your own son, what a dumbass,” Sarah remarked.

His face contorted to a mask of evil. I poked him in the side of the head with the barrel of his own shotgun.

“Why did you come at us looking for a confrontation?”

“You people are trespassing on our turf,” he retorted.

“This isn’t your turf, dumbass,” Sarah rejoined. I gave her a look.

“The hell it isn’t,” one of them, the tough-looking one, piped up and pointed to one of the gang signs spray painted on the wall of the hospital. “We marked it.” I looked at him closely and it dawned on me that I knew him.

“I recognize you. You’re Randy Messina. You were a star linebacker for Overton High.”

“Yeah, well I don’t recognize you,” he said suspiciously.

“Again, my name’s Zach, and I grew up here.” I paused and pointed. “And if you people had taken the time to look closely at the intersection over there, you would have seen that I marked this area over a year ago.”

“You’re the one who painted those rules all over the place,” he said in realization. I nodded. Grant got my attention. He was crouched down beside the wounded man and waved Justin and I over to him.

“He’s got a nicked artery,” Grant said. I looked down at them. He had cut off the pants leg of the boy and applied a tourniquet. A hunk of meat the size of a child’s fist had been gouged out of his thigh just a few inches above the knee.

“Am I going to die?” Roman asked. Grant gave him a fatherly look.

“No, son, you’re going to be fine.” He focused back on us.

“I can suture him up, and if infection doesn’t set in, he’ll be okay, but he’ll be walking with a limp for a while.” He looked around. “There’s no sterile area around here and I need to close up that artery. Let’s at least get him out of this mud.”

“I suppose you should get started and then…” I was interrupted by the sound of someone being hit and a groan of pain. Turning, I saw Cutter and Shooter standing over King Ro, putting the boots to him. Justin and I ran toward them, but Sarah intervened first when she screwed the barrel of her assault rifle into Cutter’s ear.

“What the hell?” he asked indignantly.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” I growled and glanced at King Ro’s crew. If they weren’t angry before, they were certainly angry now.

“He deserves it,” Shooter retorted. “You hit him, why can’t we?”

“Back off,” I warned them. Justin had walked up and was standing beside me for emphasis.

“Sure, no problem,” Shooter replied with his dumb smile. “He got what was coming to him.” I started to say something else, but I stopped when I saw one of the gang slowly stand up.

“I recognize you two,” he proclaimed as he pointed and turned toward his friends briefly. “Yeah, I know them. Those two are part of that River Road crew.”

For the first time since I knew him, I saw that damned smile disappear from Shooter’s face. It was replaced with – worry.

“You know them?” I asked him.

“Oh, yeah, I know them.”

“Well now, I want to hear all about this,” I said and momentarily glanced at Shooter before looking back at the man. “Let’s hear—” Before I could finish my sentence, Shooter quickly brought his rifle up and fired a three round burst into him.

“Cease fire!” Justin shouted and grabbed Shooter’s rifle out of his hands. Shooter tried to grab it back but Justin hit him with a devastating right hook. The impact was so hard, Shooter’s feet flew up in the air as he hit the ground. If not for the mud, I’m sure his head would have cracked open from the impact. Cutter gasped and started to raise his own rifle but Sarah kept him from it.

“Don’t even think about it,” she threatened.

“What the hell?” I implored and ran over to the man. He had a three-round grouping right in the middle of his chest. It was the best shooting I’d ever seen Shooter do.

“Talk to me, Cutter. What just happened here?”

Cutter looked at me, Justin, Sarah, and his unconscious brother nervously before shaking his head. “I don’t know, man.”

“Bullshit,” Randy said. He stood as well. “Y’all just murdered Sparks for no good reason.” He then glared at me.

“So, this is how it’s going to be?” he asked with contempt. I turned toward Grant.

“Major, a little assistance here, please.” Grant hustled over to him and squatted down beside him. Surprisingly, he gasped.

“That piece of trash shot me,” he said and coughed up some blood. Grant patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Hold fast, I’m going to give you something for pain.” There was no response that could be understood now, only a lot of groaning. I crouched down beside him.

“Tell me what you know about those two,” I asked. He looked at me, but there was nothing but agony in his eyes. Grant gently pushed me aside. I watched as he filled a syringe and injected it into the man’s leg. The man gave a long sigh as his eyes lost focus.

“I’ve given him an overdose of morphine,” he whispered quietly. “There’s nothing I can do for him.”

“How’s Sparks?” Randy asked. Grant looked at him and slowly shook his head.

We stood there in silence, one group staring at the other group. The only sound was an occasional moan coming from the kid known as Roman. Any chance we might have had in forming some kind of positive relationship with this crew was ruined. They stared at us with thinly veiled hatred. In spite of their original intentions, I can’t say that I blamed them.

“What are we going to do with them?” Justin whispered.

“The safest thing would be to kill them all,” I whispered back. “These guys are our enemies now.” He looked at me; I guess he was trying to get a read on me.

“Is that what you want to do?” he finally asked.

“If I were the colonel, I’d say yes, absolutely. But, I’m not the colonel.” I turned and looked at the other four men. They were silent, still staring and yeah, the hatred was as evident as the graffiti they’d painted on the wall.

“We’ll let them go, then,” Justin said with a hint of reservation in his voice.

There was a lull and a minute or two later Grant stood, ripping off his nitrile gloves as he looked at the remaining five men.

“Would one or two of you help Roman into one of your cars?” he asked. Randy looked pointedly at me and I nodded. He motioned to one of his friends and they carried Roman by his shoulders to one of the SUVs. Grant walked with them, giving them instructions.

“You men will need to take care of your friend and watch him closely. Change the dressing daily and watch close for infection,” Grant said, paused and put his hand on Randy’s shoulder. “Watch for red squiggly lines emanating from the wound, that’ll let you know if infection has set in. If you men don’t have a supply of antibiotics, I suggest you search for some.” He then lowered his voice.

“You should also watch him closely for symptoms of anything else.” Randy looked at him a moment before nodding in understanding. They gently loaded Roman up in the back seat of one of the SUVs and shut the door. Randy motioned at me and I walked over.

“What about Sparks?” he asked.

“He’s not going to make it,” I replied. “If you leave him here, I’m going to put a bullet in his head and burn him.”

“I’ll take care of him,” he said. “He was a good dude.” I nodded in understanding.

“What about our weapons?” I thought for a moment and pointed at one of the ambulances.

“We’ll put them in there. Wait until we’ve left before coming back.” There was a silence for a moment and it looked like he was sizing me up. I knew he was only a year older than me, but he was a good-sized man, almost as tall as me, beefy, with big muscular legs that looked like tree trunks.

“Back before, what college would you have played for?” I asked, trying to make conversation.

“I would’ve liked to have played for Bama, but that’s neither here nor there, is it?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it came to this.”

“But not sorry enough to do anything to that piece of shit who killed Sparks, right?” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead, he walked over to his friend he called Sparks, picked him up easily, and carried him to one of the awaiting vehicles. There was some arguing going on amongst them, but they drove away without any further trouble.