Out of LA

by Dennis Elder

  “I think no,” said Ivan. “They’d probably enjoy it. Soon they’d expect that kind of thing on weekly basis. We don’t have extra personnel for that.”

  “Yea,” said Claudio. “But we need something for the men to do. Like a goal or a project. This sitting around all day with nothing to do isn’t good.”

  Ivan suddenly perked up. Maybe Claudio was on to something.

  “I like idea of goal, but what could goal be?” wondered Ivan.

  A few seconds ticked by as the two men thought.

  “What about a wrestling match?” began Claudio. “Like maybe Friday night at the fights!”

  “I like concept, but we might have trouble keeping winners from killing losers,” said Ivan.

  “Yea, and we might get fights in the stands too,” added Claudio. “I went to a boxing match once with my Uncle and two rows in front of us two women stood up and just started screaming at each other. Then a few others started yelling and then a chair went flying. Man, by the time it was over, I think there were like eleven people in the hospital. Maybe wrestling wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

  The silence came back. Then Claudio sat up straight.

  “Maybe we do some kind of therapy sessions,” said Ivan.

  “What?” asked Claudio, not understanding what Ivan was saying.

  “You know, like how Doctors counsel patients in movies,” started Ivan. “We could set up bunch of chairs in semi-circle and then maybe I interview two men who have history of conflicts.”

  “You mean like Doctor Phil?” offered Claudio. His face betraying his lack of understanding.

  “Yes,” said Ivan. “Dr. Phil. It let men share feelings in safe environment.”

  “But what if the two men start fighting?” asked Claudio. “You might find yourself in the middle of knife fight, boss.”

  Ivan sat back little in his chair and thought about Claudio’s point.

  “Maybe. But could still work,” he said. “We could place armed guards in room and if anybody pulls knife we shoot them,” continued Ivan with a smile on his face, thinking he might have a solution.

  Claudio couldn’t tell if Ivan was serious or not. But Ivan the terrible wasn’t looking at Claudio anymore. He was deep in thought about how to pull off his counseling idea.

  Claudio was a little hesitant to criticize the idea, hoping Ivan would realize the potential problems. But after a few more seconds he finally spoke.

  “But, wouldn’t be we back to losing more men?” quietly suggested Claudio.

  Ivan quickly turned his eyes back to Claudio, and slowly began to realize this lieutenant was right.

  “Probably so, and I think you are right,” responded Ivan. “Maybe not such good idea. So, no Dr. Phil.”

  The silence crept back into the office again because neither man could think of anything else that would help control the infighting among the Army of Vegas.

  Chapter 78: Greater love hath no man than this

  It was Junior and Cheryl’s day to ride point as scouts. Both were up early and had already packed their bike gear by the time everyone else was still finishing breakfast. Junior popped open one of the garage doors and took a good look around the outside buildings. He saw a jack rabbit in an empty lot across the street but nothing else moved. It was a few ticks past 6:30 am and the sun was already shinning bright in the blue California sky. It was a very windy this morning. Sand was blowing everywhere and the dried-out hedge leaves along the driveway rustled around like sandpaper. The open house banner flags were strung out straight and were popping loudly. Junior checked his watch. He was a lot like Major Mark and liked to keep to a schedule.

  “Come on you guys,” yelled Junior as he opened the garage door leading into the condo kitchen. “It’s 6:30, time to head out!”

  William was the only one still in the kitchen eating a few last bites of breakfast.

  “We’re coming!” he shouted back. “Keep your panties on,” William whispered to himself between bites.

  Junior let the spring door to the condo close and turned back to his own bike. He needed to stuff his warm sleeping bag into the storage rack on his road bike. Cheryl was already in the garage and ready to go and impatiently rode her bike and trailer out and into the street. She coasted about 25 yards and then stopped with both of her legs straddling the high bar on her bicycle. The condo garage was behind her and the little grocery store they scavenged the night before was just to her left. She looked up and down Yermo Road but didn’t see a thing.

  “Let’s go old man,” shouted Cheryl over her right shoulder. “We’re burning daylight here.”

  Junior had his back to Cheryl as he struggled to close the last of his bicycle’s storage case straps. It was hard to hear what Cheryl said because of the snapping open house flags, but he got the gist of it.

  “Old man?” whispered Junior. “Who you callin old?”

  Suddenly, and in one sweeping coordinated move, fifteen HBs ran down on Cheryl. She never saw them approach. The loud wind covered their footsteps as they appeared out from behind the grocery store. Like a cloud of bees, they swept Cheryl up and off her bicycle and to the right, away from the grocery store, the condo and out of Junior’s sight line. Strong and hungry hands clamped down tight on her arms, legs and mouth. She never even had a chance to scream.

  Twenty seconds later Junior stood up from his bike and proclaimed it ready to ride. He pointed his bike and trailer to the road and began moving forward. Suddenly he hit is brakes hard and let his road bike fall hard on the ground. Cheryl was not in the street and her bike was on the ground. Immediately he swung his Bushmaster automatic rifle off his back and flipped the trigger safety switch to fire. Cheryl’s bike lay in the middle of the road and her front tire was still spinning. He ran forward with his gun leveled looking for Cheryl, but she was nowhere in sight. As soon as he cleared the garage door another pack of twenty plus HBS tackled him from the right and drove him down to the driveway concrete. He was blindsided so hard and fast that he didn’t have a chance to fire a round. As he struggled four HB men grabbed Junior by the hair and violently pulled his head back, exposing his neck. Two of the men bit down hard and pulled back like hungry tigers. Junior screamed in pain. The others were groping and biting wherever they could find access.

  Several of those inside the condos heard Junior’s painful scream. Jake, William and Tyrone were the first to get to the garage. Jake and Tyrone whipped up their rifles and began shooting the HBs in the head. They killed 15 of them quickly. But the other five were right on top of Junior and they couldn’t get clean shots. Instinctively they swung their rifles like baseball bats but the HBs were so focused they wouldn’t let go of Junior. So, they finally pulled out their handguns and shot the remaining HBs close up in their heads.

  William was standing in the garage. He froze when he saw the ferocity of the HBs. It was like a bunch of sharks in a feeding frenzy.

  By the time Mark made it outside, the show was over. Tyrone and Jake stood over Junior’s mangled body with blood spattered on their faces and clothing. A second later Doc ran in with his med kit to assess the damage. But it was obvious that Junior was gone. There were so many bite marks on his face and neck that you couldn’t tell who he was.

  Doc stood but kept his face on Junior. “There’s just too much damage here,” said Doc. “There is nothing I can do.”

  The rest of the kids filed out into the garage and stopped when they saw Junior’s mangled body and the pile of dead HBs surrounding it.

  Suddenly Sylvia stepped forward. “Where’s Cheryl?” asked Sylvia with alarm in her voice. Then she spotted the upturned bike in the road. “Is that her bike?”

  Mark snapped into military mode.

  “Frank you take Boon, Sam and Randy and go left. Tyrone, Jake and I will go right. Doc you shut the garage door behind us and get everyone else ready to leave.”

  As the garage door came down with a slam, Frank’s guys moved left with their guns ready. Tyrone and Jake reloa
ded their rifles in about ten seconds and then the two of them, plus Mark, moved quickly to the right.

  It didn’t take long for Mark’s guys to find Cheryl’s remains. Her body had been torn to shreds. Her right leg and left arm were both missing. Her remaining limbs and torso were soaked red with blood and torn flesh. Bits of clothing and hair were visible. But the rest of her was just gone. The HBs were gone too. Not a walker in sight. A minute later Frank’s team came full circle around the building and met up with Mark and the others.

  “Dam,” said Jake.

  Mark and his team picked up what was left of Cheryl and pulled her back up to the Condo’s driveway.

  Jake and Randy,” said Mark. “I saw a shovel in the garage. Let’s dig two graves behind the grocery store. Work in shifts to get it done quick. Those HBs might be thinking about coming back. Remember how gunfire attracts them. And I don’t want the kids to see Cheryl like this.”

  “How could they have of snuck up on Junior?” wondered Sam. “He was always so careful.”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” replied Mark. “But we better tighten up our security from here out.”

  “Damn,” breathed Tyrone.

  Mark went back inside and broke the news to the others. Sylvia was heartbroken. That was her second child lost now. Doc held here while she cried aloud.

  “The rest of you get packed,” whispered Mark to those still inside. “We shot off a lot of rounds just now, and as you know, gun shots attract HBs. We’ll have a quick graveside service for Cheryl and Junior, and then we are out of here. Let’s move with a purpose, people.”

  The team moved quickly. The bikes were packed and ready to go in 15 minutes. The men finished the graves and made crude crosses for each of them. The little band of now 22 souls stood reverently around the two sandy grave mounds. Sally watched from her bike trailer window. Randy, Boon, Susie and Doc stood watch, their backs to the group with guns ready. Sam found Junior’s New Testament book when they were burying him. It had some blood on it, but Sam thought Junior would like it of somebody kept it. So, Sam took out the Bible and looked for something to read.

  Sam looked at Mark. “OK if I read something over them?” asked Sam.

  Mark nodded a yes.

  It had been a long time since Sam had been to Sunday School. The little book fell open to the 15th Chapter of St. John. His eyes went to a passage that had been underlined. So, he read it.

  “Greater love hath no many than this, than a man lay down his life for his friends,” said Sam. It was all he could do to finish the sentence. Everyone struggled to control their emotions, especially the regulars and Sylvia. Just as Sam closed the book and stuffed it into this upper pocket, two quick shots rang out.

  Everybody turned to look and noticed Doc’s rifle was smoking. “Two HBs 50 yards back down the hill,” Doc said with a motion of his rifle. Both the HBs were on the ground. Neither moved.

  Mark turned to the group.

  “I know we’re all hurting,” began Mark. Junior and I had been together for eleven years. I counted him a friend and I will miss him the rest of my life. From what I knew of Cheryl she was a fine young woman as well. They will both be missed,” he concluded.

  There was brief pause. The four guards kept watch but paid close attention to Mark’s words.

  “Before we start today’s ride I want to talk about a couple of things with everyone,” said Mark. “Junior and Cheryl’s death are on me. I thought since we were farther away from the larger cities the HBs would naturally be less of a threat. So, I let my security guard down a little. Up until now it seemed the HBs lacked any kind of group mentality. Maybe that is not the case anymore – I don’t know. Junior was too smart and too experienced to let a few stumbling half dead zombies get the jump on him. Either way, as of right now there are two new operating commands everyone will follow. One: nobody opens an outside or garage door unless there are at least two personnel behind them and ready with rifles and safety’s off. Is that clear?” barked Mark.

  “Yes.” answered the group without coordination. Even Mary replied.

  “Two,” Mark continued. “Nobody separates from their partner anymore. Not for anything or under any circumstances. If you need to use the bathroom, inside or outside, somebody goes with you. Is that understood?” barked Mark again.

  “Yes sir,” replied the group, this time with a little more volume and coordination.

  “If you decide to go back into a store for a quick something you forgot,” said Mark. “Then you go with somebody else. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” the group barked back.

  “Good then,” said Mark as he mounted his bike. “That way we’re less likely to lose any more people between here and Salt Lake.” Then he turned to Boon.

  “Which way out of here, Sergeant?” snapped Mark.

  Boon pointed toward Yermo Road behind them. “Left on Yermo Road and then back on the freeway about a quarter mile east, then to Baker,” replied Boon.

  The group formed up nicely and started pedaling. Jake and William were up next as scouts, so they led out. The team followed quickly. Everyone wanted to get away from the Condos as fast as possible. But everyone’s emotions certainly lingered for the two friends they left buried behind.