The sheriff stood there with Julia in his arms looking at Jeff and Jack. Ruth stood there with her rifle hanging in the dirt and TJ asked her, “Ma’am, you okay?”
Ruth shook her head and Julia broke away from the sheriff and said, “This is Ruth, Doug’s wife. She’s not doing too well right now.”
“Can we go somewhere and get these two taken care of, and we can sit down and talk about what the heck’s happened around here?” TJ asked Jeff and Jack.
Jeff looked at Jack and together they nodded affirmatively, with Jack saying, “Can we put Doug on your trailer and maybe let the ladies ride with you? We’ll go to our places up on the ridge,” he said, pointing to the south.
“Sure, let me get these two in the hummer and I’ll help with his body,” TJ said. He led Ruth and Julia around to the passenger side and put Julia in the front and Ruth in the back then got in the driver’s side and pulled up enough so they wouldn’t have to carry Doug’s body very far.
The three men gently carried Doug to the trailer and put him on the back section. Jack told the sheriff to follow him and they would pick up the third member of their party, Dan, up ahead. They pulled out and up the road about a half mile, found Dan looking back at them with a look of wonder on his face, seeing the hummer following the ATV.
As Jack pulled up to Dan, he said, “Now what?”
“That’s the Sheriff of Albany County, Thomas Gerill,” Jack told him. “Julia confirmed who he was. He helped us load Doug’s body on the trailer back there and we’re headed up to our places. Come on, get in. We’ve all got a lot of talking to do here in a bit. I hear a bottle of scotch calling my name anyway so let’s get to it.”
Dan still had that look on his face, the one that could melt steel. He gazed at his two friends and finally, shook his head and told Jeff to scoot over and got in. Jack pulled out and the drove up to their places. Dan looked at Jack said to go to Jack’s place.
When the two vehicles pulled up and parked, everyone got out and introductions were made all around, with Julia introducing the sheriff to everyone, formally. Jack said for everyone to wipe their feet and he herded them all inside, where he pulled a bottle of eighteen-year-old scotch out and popped the cork. He got out six glasses, but Julia said no and pushed two glasses back to him. He looked at her wondering what was wrong, and Julia looked at Ruth, who, with tears flowing, croaked out, “I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 1 to the third installment of the
I’m Tired of Zombies Series:
Chapter 1: The Sheriff
Scottsbluff, Scotts Bluff County, Nebraska, is a small town with a population of about 16,000. It’s located on the western border of Nebraska, just east of Wyoming. It’s a farm and ranch community founded in 1899 and is named after the bluffs across the North Platte River from the town, Scotts Bluff. The most notable tidbit of information about Scottsbluff is the place is way out in the sticks! It is located just north of Gering, Nebraska, and only has three roads leading to it. The reason its brought up in this story is the sheriff of Albany County, Wyoming’s, last living relative, his sister June, lives there.
The sheriff of Albany County left Laramie, Wyoming, during the height of the zombie outbreak to check and see if his sister was still among the living. She was and he stayed with her in Scottsbluff.
They had survived like everyone else by scavenging and living off the land. The two had had several close encounters with ‘Zs’ as the zombies are called and had thus far come out of their encounters as winners. Sadly, just after June’s 45 birthday on June seventh, she was waylaid by a sniper and killed.
Sheriff Thomas John Gerill, (TJ to his very close friends and some family), was a six-foot, gnarled looking man with a magnum-style, western mustache, medium side-burns and a face that looked like a famous cowboy from the old cigarette commercials on TV, with crows-feet wrinkled skin around his eyes and mouth. A rugged and hansom man with a great smile, he had never married, but had had his fair share of ladies throughout his life.
He was born July 12, 1965, a hot Monday morning, on a small ranch in Rock River, Wyoming, near the Medicine Bow River, population on a good day about 200. Rock River is a tiny place in northern Albany County, Wyoming, and other than visiting his sister in Nebraska, the only other time he left the Equality State whose motto is, “Equal Rights”, was during his military time in the Army.
Growing up he was an average student in school at best and after graduating high school in 1982 as a seventeen-year-old, he opted for ranch work and became a cowboy. He rode a few rodeos and in one, riding bare-back broncs, won a Henry, .45 caliber long colt saddle rifle. It became his pride and joy and he became a crack shot.
In 1990 when the Gulf War broke out and, on an impulsive decision, he went to see the Army recruiter in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and enlisted. He signed up for airborne after AIT and afterwards attended Ranger school, becoming a snake-eater. He deployed to Iraq and served time at several forward operating bases (FOB) with special operation units.
While serving on his second deployment in one classified location in 1996, he was wounded by mortar fragments in his left side, arm, and leg during a shelling. Transported to Germany for definitive care, he recovered enough to be sent home where, in Cheyenne, Wyoming, he was honorably discharged from the Army, and did his final recovery in the auspicious Cheyenne Veteran Affairs Medical Center, one of the nation’s best VA facilities. He was awarded the Purple Heart, Silver Star, Bronze Star and Army Commendation medals during his service, and upon discharge was awarded the Meritorious Service Medal.
Afterward his recovery he went home to Rock Springs. One day a friend of his from high school told him about a job opening in the sheriff’s office, a deputy sheriff’s position and said TJ would be a shoo-in after his military service. After an argument, he grudgingly agreed and filled out the application, and after several interviews was hired. His first task was to attend the Wyoming Law Enforcement Academy, in Douglas, Wyoming, where he graduated with honors and top in his class. Shortly thereafter, he was sworn in as a Deputy Sheriff of Albany County, Wyoming, headquartered in Laramie, Wyoming.
TJ soon found that being a deputy was right up his alley after all. He became an expert driver and knew the over 4,000 square miles of Albany County like the rugged backs of his hands. He also knew the residents, both good and bad, and treated all with a fairness rarely seen in a deputy from such a remote locale. He was downright friendly and really enjoyed helping folks, even stopping, and helping neighbors shovel snow on many occasions, and helping ranchers round up loose cattle and other critters. It was a joy for TJ to stop and help a rancher mend a fence-line, or re-shingle a pump-house shed near a windmill. The Sheriff of Albany County received twenty or thirty commendation letters a year for TJ, from county residents.
The sheriff’s office issued Beretta M9, semi-automatic side arms in nine-millimeter. TJ liked the Beretta but carried a Colt SA Army 5.5-inch six-shooter in 45 Long Colt to go along with his Henry. The current Sheriff didn’t mind, as TJ had never needed to pull his side arm in the line of duty. On only one occasion, during a bank robbery he was covering, did he bring out the Henry, and that was just in a covering action and did not have to fire it.
After twenty years as a Sheriff’s deputy and rising to the rank of Lieutenant, TJ decided to run for Sheriff and won. The incumbent needed to retire due to illness and gave TJ his public vote of confidence and together with TJ’s reputation in the county, garnered TJ a landslide victory in the election. A little over a year later the outbreak began and within a year, the world had been decimated by the zombie plague. TJ’s beloved county and state were overrun.
TJ had killed many Zs by the time Laramie, Wyoming, was overrun with the things and declared unsafe. He, Deputy Zachariah Horn and Deputy David Malone were the only three left on the force when the Sheriff sent Deputy Malone out to locate fellow officer, Zach Horn, who had been dispatched to search for and apprehend three hooligans operating near Fox Park, Wyoming.
&
nbsp; A few days after he’d sent David out and not hearing any word from him, TJ decided to leave himself and penning a note to Deputy Malone telling him he was going to Scottsbluff, Nebraska, to find out if his sister was still alive. If not, the note read, he’d be back in a week or so. He packed extra food and ammunition for his 45’s and added a couple of cans of extra gasoline for the trip and took off.
He headed east on I-80 and rarely seeing any traffic, cruised at eighty miles an hour until reaching the turn north at Kimball, Nebraska. Cruising into Scottsbluff, he turned east off the main highway towards his sister’s home near the airport. He had seen several cars and trucks while driving north towards her home and saw very few of the creatures stumbling about along the way and had not had any close encounters at all - a good sign.
Arriving at his sister’s home, he parked and waited, looking in all directions ensuring he was in no danger. Quietly opening the door to his Sheriff’s cruiser, he pulled his Colt and headed towards June’s house. He knocked on the door and stood there listening, and hearing footsteps, stepped back and readied the Colt.
The look on his face was memorable when he realized it was his sister who had opened the door. They embraced - she, bursting into tears - and they stood there holding each other tightly in a hug for some time.
They finally separated and she said, “Where did you come from? I thought you might be dead.”
“I thought the same about you and left Laramie to find out. How you doin’?” he asked her.
“I’m gettin’ by so far, but things are really starting to get bad what with these dead folks walking around. Speaking of that, get in here, TJ and close that door,” she told him.
He followed June into her home and closed and bolted the door, then holstered his Colt and said, “How’s your health holding up?”
“I suppose I’m doin’ okay. Just finishing up a bout of gout in my big toe – that hurt somethin’ fierce – I should be much better in a day or two,” she explained.
“Did you see a doctor?”
“Nah,” she said with a wave. “Already had some of the meds and just took those. Don’t think the clinic is open anymore or even if the Doc’s alive. Haven’t seen much of anyone here lately. I’ve been stayin’ in the house to stay away from those dead folks walking around. They’re scary. Have you seen them?”
“Yes, and I’ve taken care of a few of them. Have ta’ shoot them or stick them in the head to really stop ‘em.”
“That sounds horrible.”
“Yeah. It’s even harder shootin’ those that you knew as a friend once. Hurts really bad.”
“That’s sad. Want some coffee? I just brewed some,” she said to change the subject.
“That’d be great,” he said following along as she turned and headed for her small kitchen.
“Sis, you still have folks you’re in touch with out there,” he asked her?
“Not in a week or so. I talked with Shirley over at the farm store last Saturday – we were getting groceries – and haven’t seen or heard from her since. Ain’t seen nobody for several days ‘cept you. I’m glad you’re here, TJ.”
“Glad to be here. Didn’t run into any trouble on the way over and that was strange to me, although I’m not arguing. Laramie is completely overrun with those things. Cheyenne looked worse. The university closed down more ‘n a month ago and folks seemed to just melt away or become one of those things. I’ve seen several attacks and it’s horrible to witness.”
“I’ve seen a couple myself and you’re right. Horrible is the right word. And they don’t stop, just keep coming. I saw several attacking one of the local deputies a couple of weeks back and they just overwhelmed him. He was shooting his gun and it didn’t seem to have an effect on them at all.”
“Like I said, you gotta shoot them in the head, or stick ‘em in the head with something.”
“Not me, I don’t even want to get close to one of them. Hey, what’s your plan? What are you going to do next?”
“I’m not real sure, June. I was thinkin’ I’d stay here for a few days and if you want, we’ll just stay here, I guess, until the supplies run dry. Nothing is running anymore so what is here is all there will be for I…don’t know how long. Or a couple of other options are we could pack up your stuff and head back to Laramie, or even the old homestead in Rock River. I’ve kept the old place up even though living in Laramie. What do you think?”
“I suppose we could stay here a few weeks and let you rest up and my foot finish healing. I was thinking about heading for Omaha, but with you here, if you don’t mind, I’ll tag along with you wherever we decide to go. Cheyenne and Laramie don’t seem too bad I guess, and they’ll have more than Scottsbluff. This place is already drying up as far as people go. Either way with me,” she finished with a shrug of her shoulders.
“I do like the idea of staying here for a while, especially to let you heal up. You have a list of things you need? If so, I’ll take a trip out and see if I can get it,” he told her.
“Just a few things right now – more coffee, some sugar, milk – stuff like that. You think you’ll be okay going out?”
“Looked pretty harmless out there on my drive in. Only saw a few of those things and I saw several vehicles on the highway coming in. Nothing out on I-80 at all - funny that, no trucks or anything.”
“That is strange. I’ve never seen I-80 without traffic, especially the big rigs going back and forth. How about going out first thing tomorrow morning so you can get some rest?”
“And another cup of this coffee,” he said with a smile and holding up his mug.
I'm Tired of Zombies | Book 2 | Full Scale War Page 36