The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 1): Awakening (15 page)

I made my way back down to the floor, tossed the bolt cutters to the side and started to heave Fish up.  He may have been shorter than I was, but the bastard was heavy.  He croaked and groaned as I got him to his feet and leaned him against the ladder.

“Hey!” I shouted at him.  “Get on the roof!  Climb!” 

He wasn’t paying attention.  I finally got to do something I had wanted to do since I met him.  I slapped him as hard as I could.  His head snapped back, and his eyes started to open.  I reared back, and swung again, but his free hand came up and grabbed my arm.  Pain, anger, and determination all flushed over his face.

“You first… Supply,” he croaked, “I… got your… six.”

I ignored him and spun him around.  “Sorry Fish, age before beauty,” I jested. 

He grudgingly complied, but of course, not without comment.  “Too bad… for you,” he squeaked out between breaths as he climbed, “I’m older… and… better looking.”

“You really must have hit your head pretty hard.  We’ll have to-” the face of a zombie coming around the doorway shut me up.  The meat around its eye socket had been torn off, and I got a good look at the purple and black veins spider-webbing across the whites of its eye. 

Bringing up my AR, I fired and hit the zombie in the neck.  It stumbled back a step, then proceeded to claw its way over the shelving unit.  I fired two more times, one shot to the face, the other to the forehead.  It slumped over but another zombie was instantly there to take its place.  In seconds a dozen zombies were in sight, all trying to push their way past the blockade.

I fired until my magazine was empty and six of the zombies lay motionless behind the rack.  Others were peppered with gunshot wounds, leaking black ooze.  It didn’t matter how many I put down, they were pressing in on the shelf, moving it back. 

I looked up, and saw Fish was stumbling over the lip of the hatch on the roof.  I let my AR hang freely on its sling and started to climb. 

About halfway up, I saw the first zombie make its way to the ladder, clawing up in my direction.  It grabbed onto my boot and started to pull me down.  The bastard was strong.  Its teeth were gnashing, making horrible clicking sounds and spitting black goo off of them with every chomp.  I saw others coming up close behind.

I unfastened my Glock, and put the oil filter an inch from the creature’s head.  One squeeze of the trigger and it fell motionless into its friends, which pushed them out of the way.  I struggled the rest of the way up the ladder, not wanting to let go of my gun or put it away. 

Finally, I reached the top and rolled over the edge.  Fish was lying there with his eyes closed.   He was silent but still breathing.  I peered back down the ladder, half scared they would be climbing up after us.  They were still on the ground level, though one was hanging from a rung on the ladder. 

I wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to get up here, but I figured standing over them and taunting them wouldn’t help the situation.  I shut the door and turned the latch.  There was no locking mechanism, but these things didn’t seem to turn doorknobs, so it really didn’t matter.

I knelt down next to Fish.  His breathing was light, but steady.  I removed the small first aid kit from the back of my vest and retrieved some gauze and antiseptic cream.  Taking off the rag on his head, I could see the rip across his forehead.  I cleaned it with water from my canteen, and saw it was about three inches long, but not really that severe.  He would need stitches, I was sure.  I guess it just looked bad because of all the blood.  Head wounds bleed, someone once told me.  I found out they were right.  I wasn’t sure if he was dazed because of the loss of blood or a concussion, but either way, he was pretty much out of the fight then.

After I bandaged him up, I dragged him over to one of the air conditioning units and leaned him against it.  I needed to keep the wound above his heart.  I remembered that much from first aid training.  I thought he would be okay, though.  There wasn’t a lot of swelling around the wound and I guessed it was just bad friction when he connected with the steering wheel.

I decided to look around.  I changed the magazine in my AR, noting that I only had five full ones left, and made my way toward the front of the building.  The top of the roof, where the air conditioning units were, was flat and surrounded by three walls.  The back side just dropped off over their walk-in refrigeration unit.  It sort of reminded me of a McDonald’s rooftop.  I made my way to the edge, and listened to the ever growing rumble of moans below.

Hundreds, if not thousands surrounded the restaurant.  There were tall ones, fat ones, kids, women and more.  My heart sank.  I had no idea how we were going to get out of this.  We probably had about four or five hours of daylight left before their numbers would grow.  The misty rain wasn’t getting stronger either.  Not to mention the fact it was a fifteen foot drop down and the restaurant was undoubtedly full of zombies.

“Maybe it will be a sunny day tomorrow,” I said aloud.  Of course, no one was listening.  I wished Boomer was there.  That reminded me.  Fish still had his radio on him.  I grabbed it and called Judy.

She seemed upset when I told her we would probably be stuck till morning.  I told her it would be fine and just to stay quiet and let Boomer stand guard.  She agreed, and I told her I didn’t want our battery to die, so I would contact her later.  Telling her how dire our situation was would not have helped or made it better.  It’s not like she was going to jump in her SUV and come to the rescue.

I was scared.  It was then that I had to make a crucial decision.  Even if we waited till morning, the building would most definitely still be filled with the dead, not to mention the ones taking to the shade around us.  There was a lot of vegetation surrounding the parking lot, and I figured the ones that didn’t find shade by the building would just be a couple of dozen feet away in the woods. 

Fish’s truck was stuck, and would probably require some time to get it moving again.  Even if he was at full strength, it was a near impossible task to get out of there safely.  That’s not even considering that a scab could take notice of the overactive zombies and pursue us.  I was sure they could turn a doorknob or easily find a way onto the roof.

I looked at Fish.  He was still breathing evenly.  I switched the radio frequency to the one I saw him give DJ.

“DJ, this is Christian.  Come in please.” I said into the transmitter.

I sat there for few minutes, waiting for a response.  Nothing.

I repeated the message every twenty minutes or so with our dilemma and location.  I was happy it was a different channel than what Judy was on.  She didn’t need to know how bad things really were.

Fish would wake up here and there, and I would feed him some water and some crackers that I always carried on me. 

The sun finally showed itself after a couple of hours.  It didn’t matter much now, it wouldn’t be long before it went down and we were stuck here for the night.  Even if DJ and his people got our message, it would be suicide to come here after dark.

I peered over the edge of the building and saw the mass of zombies packed in tight, thirty deep around the building.  They were all still trying to get in. 

A bang caught my attention.  After the second one, I was able to pinpoint it.  It was coming from the roof access hatch.  A pit formed in my stomach as I realized that zombies could climb.  It took them awhile, but at least one of them was able to make its way up to the top, hold itself in place, and try to bash its way out. 

My shoulders slumped.  I felt defeated.  Up to this point, I was kind of proud of myself.  I took charge for once.  I had the plan that would keep us alive, but now it seemed like I had failed.  Zombies were persistent sons of bitches.  It wouldn’t stop until the latch broke and the door opened.

Then I heard something else.  It was a buzzing sound, like an engine off in the distance.  At first, it was hard to hear over the consistent moaning of the zombies below, but it was getting louder.  Then the radio chirped.

“Fish, this is DJ, over,” it rang.  I can’t tell you how high my heart jumped. I just knew I could feel it pulsating in my throat.  I ran over to my friend, who was still passed out near the air conditioning unit.

“This is Christian,” I said back.  “Fish is hurt and passed out.” 

The sound was getting louder and I could tell now that it was coming from the west near the old Kmart.  Two vehicles were driving through the parking lot of the Kmart, rounding the edge of the strip mall and coming into view. 

I saw a large Ford F350 followed by a 3500 Dodge Ram.  Both of the trucks were modified.  Attached to the hoods were large pieces of plywood brought to point that gave the fronts an almost boat-like appearance.  Each truck was high enough off the ground so that it was hard for anyone, particularly zombies, to reach into the back.  Even still, the beds of the trucks were lined with sheets of metal, adding an additional foot or so to the sides.

“Say ‘over’ when you’re done transmitting, Supply,” Fish said, slowly trying to stand up.  “I know they at least taught you pogues that much in the rear.”  Meaning, I was in a non-combat unit.  You know, where all of the ‘pogues’ were while the real men were on the front lines.

I couldn’t help but grin.  I was so happy to see him getting to his feet that I almost forgot that we had a rescue party on their way to save us.  The radio squawked again.

“We’re approaching Wagon Wheel Pizza.  Where’s the best place to pick you two up?  Over.”

Fish snatched the radio from me as he stumbled to the back of the roof, glaring at the access hatch as he passed it.

“We could jump off the back of the building, if you can get some of these Zulus out of the way.  Over,” Fish said.

“Roger that.  Have a hand-tossed special waiting for us. Over,” D.J. replied.

“Sure thing.  Anchovies and all.  Over and out,” Fish returned.  He turned to me.  “Make sure we have everything.”

I nodded, and gathered all the medical supplies I had laid out to bandage him up.  We made our way to the edge, and jumped down to the roof of the walk-in refrigerator unit.  The zombies’ hands could almost reach us, and the smell was even worse close up.

The F350 rounded the corner.  It didn’t speed through the horde of zombies, but just slowly moved forward.  The front contraption they had fixed on it was parting the zombies like an ocean liner through the waves, although some fell over and were victim to the large truck’s tires.  Each truck had a man in the back, using shovels to push or beat any of the zombies that were getting too close to climbing into the vehicles.  Jared was in the first one, and helped Fish and I leap into the bed.

Chapter 13

Firehouse

April 8
th
  Twilight

I thanked Jared once we settled in the back of the truck.  DJ yelled back through the sliding window and told us to hold on.  We drove down the road and turned south, taking back streets through an urban area.  Zombies could be seen in yards and near houses, slowly getting up and heading in our direction in a feeble attempt to follow us.

Jared told us we were heading to a safe house.  It was some place they cleared just in case they got caught in this part of town after dark or when it was overcast.  Thankfully, Fish didn’t pass out again.  Probably because we were jolted back and forth as DJ drove wildly to avoid the zombies in the streets.

We finally made it to the back of what appeared to be a newly constructed fire station.  We drove up to the large garage doors in the back.  Jared leaped out of the bed of the truck, as did the occupant in the back of the second truck. I recognized the other man.  It was Chad, or Convict, as Fish called him.  They moved to one of the two retractable doors and lifted it just enough for the trucks to drive in, then lowered it after we drove passed it. 

The inside of the building was devoid of any of the fire engines that usually took up occupancy.  I figured most had been out taking care of emergencies when everything went to hell.  There were not any windows, which was good, I thought.  Zombies and scabs would probably just pass us by as long as we kept the noise and light level to a minimum. 

Jared came over and lowered the back gate of the truck, and then helped Fish and me get out.  I could hear DJ on a radio as he stayed in the driver’s seat.  I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I could hear his gruff voice well enough.  Whomever he was talking to, they didn’t seem too happy with the situation.

“We stay in this bay.” Jared told me.  “We don’t like to separate in here.  There are a few mattresses on the other side of the garage.  If you take your friend over there, Daniel can take a look at him.  He’s an EMT.”  He was referring to the man who was getting out of the passenger side of the other truck.

Daniel was tall, somewhat chunky with dark hair, and appeared to be around my age.  He wore thin rimmed glasses that rested on a jovial face. 

The driver of the other truck was a young girl named Jenna.  She too was about my age, tall, big-boned and pretty, though she could have used a nice long shower.  Both her accent and demeanor screamed redneck.  The way she carried her shotgun and the revolver on her hip told me she knew how to take care of herself.  I thought that perhaps she could give Jared some lessons on how to use his gun.

Chad grabbed some gear out of the back of the other truck.  He seemed pissed about something, but I couldn’t care less why.  He still had on his filthy white tank top and gave us regular dirty looks, like we did him wrong in some way.  He was taking electric lanterns out of Jenna’s truck and placing them around the garage.  The low light gave an ominous feeling to the garage. 

Daniel, the medic, went right to work on Fish.  He laid him on one of the mattresses and propped him up on a couple of pillows.  Fish grumbled a bit, saying he was fine, but let the medic do his job.  He grabbed an IV bag and started to insert the catheter when Chad spoke up.

“So, we’re not only going to risk our lives for these assholes, but now we have to waste our drugs on them too?”  Chad shook his head in disgust. 

I wanted to say to something in response, but these guys had just saved our lives.  I didn’t think raising tensions would be the best thing at that moment.  To be honest, I was also a little intimidated.  Chad had definitely been in prison, and I really didn’t think it was a good time to get my ass kicked by a hardened criminal.  Daniel, however, was not intimidated.

“Can you please go be a prick on the other side of the station?” the EMT said evenly, and without turning to look at Chad, he inserted the needle into Fish’s arm.  “You’re polluting my air.  Besides, this is a saline bag, not drugs.  I would think, out of all people, you would know the difference.”

“I told you I wasn’t a fuckin’ crack head,” Chad responded angrily while taking a few steps closer to Daniel.  “Keep talkin’ shit and-.”

“Hey man,” Jared interrupted, nervously intercepting Chad.  “Back off.”  Jared didn’t seem like a tough guy, and was clearly uneasy as he approached him.

“What are you going to do, pussy?” Chad taunted as he got in Jared’s face.

I saw Fish, who was still dazed, put his hand on his .45.  Luckily, though, DJ quickly defused the situation.

“Back it up, Chad, or you’re going to be eating your teeth,” DJ ordered.  He didn’t seem very happy and I think Chad was just making him angrier.  Whatever conversation the big guy had on the radio in his truck had clearly gotten under his skin.

Chad hesitated, almost as if he was trying to save face, but slowly backed away from Jared.  He swore under his breath as we walked towards the other side of the garage.

I let out a breath and turned to look at Fish.  His eyes were glazed, but his hand was still on his gun.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked Daniel as he took out stitching supplies.

“He’ll be fine.  Just need to stitch him up and get some fluids in him.  It looks like he lost a good amount of blood.”  He hung the IV bag on a screw in the wall, and then cleaned the wound before he applied the stitching.  Fish barely flinched as Daniel quickly and expertly applied a few stitches to his forehead.  I instinctively grabbed my forearm. 

“Take it easy and get some sleep,” he told Fish.  “Can you do me a favor and clean up the wound?” he asked me as he finished, snipping the last stitch.  I nodded.  Daniel got up and walked over to the others who were talking quietly near DJ’s truck.

I knelt down near Fish, and tried to listen in on their conversation as I wiped up the trickling blood around the stitches.  It wasn’t easy to hear, but I gathered that DJ was pissed at this Lt. Campbell, and vice versa.  I found out later that when I radioed them, DJ and the Lieutenant had argued over rescuing us. 

The LT thought it may have been a trap and wasn’t worth risking vehicles, fuel, and personnel to rescue us so close to night fall.  DJ, however, told him he wasn’t about to let us get eaten, and that the trucks were his to do with as he pleased.  I guess there was somewhat of a power struggle in their group.  I understood that.  The Lieutenant probably thought since he was the ranking officer there, he was in charge.  I think DJ let him think that most of the time, but would put his boot down… on the LT, when he felt the need. 

DJ had asked for volunteers, and Campbell asked Chad to go with them, just to keep an eye on things.  That seemed like an awkward duo, a criminal and an officer in the military.  I wasn’t about to ask why, though.  We were definitely outsiders here. 

Fish had been passed out for at least a half an hour by the time DJ, Daniel, and the girl named Jenna made their way over to us while Chad and Jared unloaded some gear.

“How is he?” DJ asked.

“I think he’s alright,” I responded as I looked Fish over.  “Just lost a lot of blood, like he said,” I nodded toward Daniel.

“We got some food, if you’re hungry,” Jenna said in a thick country accent.  A cute little smile spread across her face.

“Thanks,” I said as I stood, “I’m starving.”

I sat quietly while the six of us ate.  They had brought a few cans of chicken noodle soup, along with Wheat Thins and some bottled water.  I decided to drink the water I had brought, rather than earn a few more dirty looks from Chad.

The five of them talked mostly about the politics I heard earlier.  They were careful not to mention where their base was.  I didn’t want to inquire either and thought it was best to just play humble.  Mostly, though, they just grumbled and griped about their situation.

After we ate, DJ told the crew to get some rest, and he would pull first watch.

“I’ll help,” I chimed in.  Everyone, including DJ, glared at me.  I guess they didn’t trust me yet.

“Yeah right, shit head,” Chad remarked.

DJ moved his glaring eyes over to Chad, but spoke to me.

“Don’t worry, Christian, we have this.  But if you want, you can stay up with me.”

I nodded, and snuck a ‘fuck you’ glance at Chad.  He definitely noticed it.  Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.

Jared went to DJ’s truck and Jenna went to hers while Chad and Daniel picked a mattress to sleep on. Fish was still passed out.  Daniel had changed the IV bag before he went down for the night.

DJ sat near the door that led to the inside of the fire station.  I grabbed my AR and moved over to him.  He looked up at me as I took a seat and then went back to drawing something on a pad of paper.

“I never really thanked you,” I said.

“You don’t have to,” he returned.  He wasn’t rude but also wasn’t kind.  He spoke matter-of-factly.

“Um, yeah I do.  You guys put your asses on the line for us.  We were going to be zombie food.”

He gave me a confused look.  “What are you talking about?  You two would have been safe up there.  The dead-heads probably would have dispersed after a while.  They definitely would have after the sun came up.”

“I thought we would have been safe too, until they started banging on the roof hatch,” I said.

“Banging on the hatch?” he asked.

“Yeah, a few of them must have climbed up the ladder.  Right before you radioed us, they were banging on it.  They probably would have broken through, eventually.  They’re persistent.” I started taking apart my rifle as we spoke.  I had shot a lot of rounds out of it and the AR was a sensitive rifle that you had to clean regularly.  At least, that’s what the Army taught us.

“You’re telling me the dead-heads climbed up there?  Impossible.”  He wasn’t calling me a liar exactly, but I think he just couldn’t believe it.  “Are you sure a scab wasn’t in the mix?”

Evidently DJ and the rest had heard the same nickname over the radio that Fish had heard.  I thought back to earlier when the zombie was banging on the hatch.  It was slow and methodical, not fast and desperate like I thought would come from a scab.  Besides, Fish had told me zombies would attack scabs just as they would try and eat a living person.

“I’m pretty sure.  You mean you’ve never seen a zombie, or dead-head, do something like that before?” I asked, including the nickname DJ had used for the walking dead.

“Hell no.  Scabs, sure, but dead-heads?  That’s something new.”

“Well, anyway, thanks.  I thought Fish was going to die up there,” I told him.

“Eh, just a light head wound.  He probably would have come out of it anyways,” he said.  “You guys friends before all this happened?”

I couldn’t suppress a snicker.  “Um, no.  He’s not exactly my type of person.”  Truthfully, I wasn’t
his
type of person.

“What was he?  Army?  He wasn’t a Marine, that much is for sure,” he chuckled to himself. 

That last remark told me DJ use to be a Marine.  It’s funny how easy it was to catch things if you paid attention.  If he was, it had to have been a while ago.  He was easily in his late thirties or early forties, and I was sure he wouldn’t be able to pass the physical fitness test.  I’m not saying he was out of shape, but… okay, he was out of shape.

“I’m not exactly sure,” I told him, lowering my voice a little.  “He’s not exactly the talkative sort.  I’m pretty sure he was Army, but what he did?  Well, I’d guess a Ranger or Special Ops.  Whichever type makes you a bigger asshole would be the one I would go with.”

DJ started to grin at my last remark, then let it fall into a frown.

“Man has demons.  I can tell,” DJ said, like he knew what they might be.  “Everyone has to work it out in their own way.”  He paused for a moment.  “What about you?  You seem to know how to handle that pea shooter,” he motioned at my AR which was now taken fully apart.

“I was in the Army.  Supply.  No, I don’t need to hear any jokes,” I said with a smirk.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t.  Everyone has a role to play when they strap on a uniform.  Even the paper pushers,” he added with sincerity in his voice.

I smiled as I cleaned the bolt from my rifle.  I was sure to add a little oil to it before I reassembled it.  The AR only needed a little lubricant to work effectively.

“What about your crew?” I asked.  “Any vets?”

“None of the ones here, no,” he said, and slightly shook his head.  “Just me.  Jared over there, well, I knew him before all this went down.  He did some electrical work at my house.  Chad, if you couldn’t tell, recently got out of prison.  Guess he was breaking into houses when he was a teenager.  Judge threw the book at him and gave him eleven years.  Only been out six months.  Campbell found him.  Guess the LT saved his life.  We got lucky with Daniel.  I’m guessing a paramedic or a doctor will be hard to find these days.  Jenna pulled him out of a FEMA camp when things started getting bad.  She’s a wild and crazy one, that girl.  I’d rather have her at my side then most of the guys we have at camp.”

I started to put my AR back together, allowing silence take over for a few seconds.  Then I asked, “And you?  You have a story?”

He huffed, and then looked at me.  “Everyone has a story.  I was in the Marines.  Got married, had a boy.  My wife wanted me to get out, so I did.  I’ve been working as a bike mechanic at a chop shop off US1 ever since.”