Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3

by Coley, Joseph

  “Let’s load up the rest of this stuff; we got one more stop to make before we go back to the house. I wanna stop at that train and pick up as much stuff as we can on it. Namely I wanna get a rail map and some kind of instruction manual for the damn thing.” Ronnie and Balboa looked at Joe quizzically. Joe, sensing their curiosity, smiled and said, “If we are going to the Gulf, we gonna go there in style.”

  Joe and his group loaded up all the formula, diapers, medicine, water, and food they could fit into the vehicles and left the grocery store. Ronnie and Joe led, followed by Balboa’s Humvee. They started their way out towards the railroad tracks at the center of town. Ronnie pulled off of Main Street as Joe instructed and down the aptly named Railroad Avenue. The road ran by the Rescue Squad and Fire Department, another hotbed of supplies that they needed to hit up before leaving town. About a hundred yards down the tracks was the train in question. The huge engine sat on the tracks, looming large in the fading light of the day. The engine looked relatively new and in good working shape as they stopped at the rail crossing. They parked the vehicles and Joe moved towards the train. He looked back at Balboa.

  “You stay here and keep an eye on our haul. The last thing I want is to lose that stuff. Toss me a flashlight if you got one, though.” Balboa reached into the Humvee and tossed Joe an aluminum flashlight. Joe waved Ronnie towards him and the two walked down the tracks to the waiting freighter. The train had stopped at a local factory, which the tracks ran behind of. It had been parked and seemingly abandoned since the outbreak and left. Behind of the engine was a line of boxcars that stretched around the curve in the tracks, approximately a quarter mile away. Joe and Ronnie cautiously approached the front engine when they noticed it had a second engine behind it. Joe’s heart leapt as he eyed the second large train and the boxcars behind it. He could tell Ronnie was getting excited as well, as the two approached, Ronnie let out a nervous giggle. Joe stopped short of the ladder leading into the cab of the train and handed Ronnie his rifle. Ronnie, in turn handed Joe the .45 and he tucked it into his belt. Joe motioned for the shotgun, and Ronnie handed it to him hesitantly.

  “Be careful with that thing man, it’ll break your damn wrist.” He said with a laugh.

  “Will do, brother.” Joe said, returning the chuckle. “Just keep everything on the up and up while I check this out.”

  Joe crawled up into the cab of the train and clicked the flashlight on. He ran it along the floor of the engine and looked for the map and manual that he was desperately after. Within a few seconds, he eyed the stack of manuals and a Norfolk-Southern map. He stuffed them into the back of his pants pocket and looked around to gauge the size of the cab. It looked like it might be a little cramped for eight people, but it would have to do. Comfort was going to be a luxury that they would not be able to afford. Joe climbed down from the cab with a smile and all the information that he would need. They were not going to get a better vehicle under the circumstances. The rolling thunder that was available for them was now going to be heavily armed and very well supplied. Now all he had to do was to convince the rest of the group that this was by far their best option for survival.

  CHAPTER 3

  Joe and Ronnie arrived back at the house with their arsenal of food and guns in tow. Balboa pulled the Humvee as close to the front of the house as he could, with the .50 cal pointed back towards the driveway. Buffey, Chris, Jamie, and the rest of the troupe all came to the front door to see what all the commotion was about. As Buffey opened the front door, Joe and Ronnie met her toting a M249 each. Balboa brought up the rear, carrying two cases of ammo and a pair of M4’s slung across his back. The group’s eyes widened as they saw the plethora of ammo and guns laid out at their feet. Jamie was the first to break the silence.

  “Holeeee shit!” The big man finally managed out.

  “Well, I couldn’t find any cake, but my buddy here had something a little better, so in lieu of sweets, you get toys.” Joe said, breaking a wide-open smile and handing Jamie an M249.

  The rest of the group immediately dug into the plethora of weapons that had been laid out in front of them. Joe stood back and observed his overjoyed cohorts as they held up and observed the weapons. He sat down, exhausted and overcome with relief. The spontaneous glimmer of hope that he had been missing the past few days was slowly starting to build up again. He slowly panned the room, noting smiles on the faces of his friends for the first time in a long time. Buffey had taken some bottled water and some of the baby formula to finally give the crying Dakota some solace and food for the first time in his young life. Ashleigh was on the couch with Chris, learning some of the intricacies of disassembling an M16. She looked relieved as well. Jamie, Ronnie, and Balboa were still bringing in some of the canned goods and items that they had managed to get from the grocery store. Joe sat back in his recliner, completely drained from the day’s events. He did not realize until now the chain of events that had led him up to his current state. He slowly closed his eyes and laid his head back and let the grieves and sorrows of the day slide away from him as his consciousness did as well. If only he could just get a little nap in, he would be good to go for the next round of adventures that awaited him.

  Just a few minutes of sleep…

  He woke with a start. He remembered a sound that had taken him away from what promised to be a good dream for the first time in quite a while. He breathed a sigh of disappointment and gauged his surroundings. The world around him was a complete and total black. The exit of light and the enter of night had worked faster than he had anticipated. His vision was still in the haze of sleep, but he could make out the time on his watch. It was 3:31 AM. Joe sat up and trained his ear towards the sound that had apparently ended his sipping on a tall glass of beer on a beach somewhere dream. It was the baying of the cattle that lived across the road at the dairy farm, now abandoned. The cattle, used to their wake up call for milking around this time, had become agitated about something. Joe slowly removed the blanket that had been placed over him, most likely by Buffey, and steadily moved out of the recliner. There was no light in the house, save for the dim glow of a few solar-powered lights in the yard that he and Buffey had bought a few years back. The solar panels on them had long since been covered with the grime and bird shit of everyday life in the country and now only emitted a faint glow. It was not much, but it was enough for Joe to see the lone walker milling about in the front yard near the Humvee. Joe was about to wake one of his cohorts to take care of the problem when the lone zombies head made a 180-degree turn around backwards and it slumped to the ground. Joe stood in awe as he saw a large figure walk up and stomp the zombie’s skull in as well, leaving a sickening crunch as it did. The figure walked in front of one on the better-lit solar bulbs. It was Balboa, having taken the night watch and keeping an eye out from the Humvee. Balboa crawled back into the passenger’s side of the Humvee and was gone again. A lighter sleeper there did not exist. Joe realized that he had tensed up nearly all the muscles in his body, and now slowly let them recede back to their original state. He was not yet used to having someone else on watch and kicked himself a bit for falling asleep so early without volunteering for a shift himself. He needed the rest, obviously, but did not want to get lazy with his responsibilities as unofficial leader of his band of survivors. He decided not to be too hard on himself, sat back in the chair, and pulled the blanket over him again. After all, he would be of no use in such a piss-poor shape as he had evidently been in to drift off into sleep so fast. He had a thought right before he slipped off into dreamland again, only shortly hesitated by the sound of braying cattle again. He wanted some breakfast in the morning, and by God, he was going to have some steak and eggs.

  * * *

  “Just think of it as a walking hamburger.” Joe was laughing at Jamie as he hesitantly pointed the 7mm hunting rifle at the head of his soon-to-be breakfast. The walking hamburger was nearly oblivious to his presence as it continued to chew its cud, unaware that it was about to become p
art of breakfast. Balboa and Ronnie had taken the T-Rex after they dropped off Joe and Jamie and went to the farmhouse in search of chickens and, hopefully, eggs. They had been all for the idea of having some hot breakfast once Joe had awoke with the idea for steak and eggs on his mind. Joe had thought that if he could get the group in a good mood and a little more open to ideas that he would be able to go over the railroad map and train, well train(s) that were going to become their new “mobile home.” The engine hum of the T-Rex coming across the field towards where Joe and Jamie were signaled that Balboa and Ronnie had evidently found something, hopefully some chicken eggs to complement the steak that Jamie had yet to work up the nerve to kill. Jamie balked again as he lowered the rifle and looked to Joe.

  “How do we know that this isn’t contaminated? How do we know that the infection, or whatever this is, didn’t spread to animals?” Jamie confessed. “Well we saw those zombies when the truck broke down that wandered past those deer outside of Tazewell. They obviously don’t want to have anything to do with them. I mean Buffey and Chris killed a couple dozen before we got here and they wandered from the cemetery up on top of that hill,” Joe said, pointing to the steep embankment about a mile away that was home to a family plot from some of the local residents. “And they didn’t make a move to kill any of the cattle, they’re all still here as near as I can tell.”

  Ronnie zoomed up to them in the T-Rex as Joe was finishing explaining his theory. Ronnie skidded to a halt in front of the men as they stood there. “He still won’t do it, huh.” Ronnie quipped as he pulled up, seeing that Jamie was still coming to terms with having to kill breakfast.

  Jamie had lived in Tazewell all of his life, and had lived within the town limits for the duration. He had an arsenal of weapons, but had never gone hunting with any of them. He had told Joe that even until he had started working in EMS that he had not even know the names of most of the streets in town. Jamie lived a simple life of collecting guns as his hobby and had little actual use for them other than to collect and sell, much like someone who collects baseball cards would. Joe moved over to Jamie and tried to appeal to his appetite. Jamie was, after all, a big guy with a big appetite. Joe did not know if he had eaten any of the goods procured from the grocery store the evening before and was trying to tempt Jamie with the bribe of steak and eggs one more time before he went ahead and did it himself. Joe clasped his hand on Jamie’s shoulder and reminded him that this might be the last time that he got any fresh, red meat for a long time. Jamie salivated at the idea of what could possibly be his last home cooked meal, and then drew the courage to fire the 7mm into the heifer’s skull. The animal dropped like, well like it had been shot, and Ronnie stepped in with a hunting knife that Joe had from the house and began to field dress the animal.

  “I think I’m gonna nickname you Breakfast.” Joe proclaimed to the now fallen animal.

  After they had gone back across the road with their haul, they dragged the small propane grill that Joe and Buffey used for cookouts into the front yard. The ample supply of vehicles that they had made a formidable wall around the front of the house. Each one was parked with the front wheel touching the rear wheel of the one beside of it, in a stacked manner. That way if they had to make a hasty retreat, they would still be able to. The Humvee acted as the lynchpin for the parking, the vehicle backed up with the .50 cal pointed away from the house. The T-Rex rumbled up and Chris pulled his truck back to let the ATV in, and then moved his vehicle back into place, sealing off the group. Buffey came off the porch with a skillet to put onto the grill for the eggs that Ronnie and Balboa had managed to get. They got a little under two dozen, enough for everyone to have at least three with their steaks, which were wrapped in plastic wrap on the back of the ATV. Joe and Jamie grabbed the freshly cut hunks of meat, removed the plastic and threw the steaks onto the grill. The grill warmth was in stark contrast to the weather of the day as the steaks sizzled ever so lightly. It had not rained again like it had the past several days, but the sky was still overcast and dreary. There was no threat of rain, but the grayish hues in the clouds said that there would be little to no sunshine today.

  Joe decided that he might as well start his campaigning for the train now. His initial reaction from the information that he shared the day before had not gone over as famously as he would like. Balboa and Ronnie were on board with the idea after yesterday’s grocery store run, and he would not have a hard time convincing Jamie. Chris would understand the need for furthering their shelter and defensive capabilities, as well as having Joe’s back in any situation that could be thrown at them. Buffey might be a hard sell, as well as Ashleigh. Joe’s wife had given him the impression that she did not want to abandon their home so quickly.

  He delivered the first round of steaks inside the house to Chris, Ashleigh, and Buffey. They were famished and tore into the steak and eggs nearly as soon as he had put the plates down. The eggs were from three chickens that Buffey and Joe had for a number of years, giving them a regular supply of fresh eggs. A series of “Mmmmmm’s” and “Oooooooh’s” were heard in the living room and kitchen as his friends began devouring the succulent “zombie apocalypse approved” slabs of meat that they had procured. Joe took his plate, sat in a central area to the group, and began disseminating about the information that Balboa had received from the helicopter pilot. No one said anything for a moment until Buffey broke the silence.

  “I think it is a little risky, seeing as how we have Dakota to take with us now. That being said, I think if it does have any basis to it, it could be our best shot at surviving.”

  “I agree with Buffey. It could be risky but I think the risk is worth the reward, don’t you?” Chris said, gnawing down another piece of steak and directing his comment to Ashleigh.

  “I just don’t know. I mean I haven’t ever really travelled much and I’m not good with unfamiliar areas. You said we would be heading to the Gulf of Mexico?” Ashleigh answered.

  Joe took another bite of steak and nodded his head. “From what he tells me, what is left of the military, mainly the Navy and the Coast Guard are evacuating what people they can to offshore oil platforms and ships that are out to sea. I think it is by far the best shot we have at any kind of rescue.”

  “So what is your contingency plan?” Ashleigh asked smartly.

  “The contingency plan is we get to Mississippi and get a boat and head out to sea ourselves. There are hundreds of those oilrigs, and most of ‘em is self-sufficient. We could live on ‘em for quite some time before we ever had to leave.” Joe snapped back at Ashleigh who was obviously not impressed with his plan, or the backup to it. It was not perfect by any means, but he did not see anyone else putting forth an effort to come up with a better idea.

  Ronnie and Balboa came inside the house, a freshly cooked steak in each one of their hands, and sat down to talk to the rest of the group. Joe continued to try and talk the rest of his troupe into leaving the house. Most of the argument came from the fact that now that they had all the guns and ammo they could possibly want, that seeking rescue unnecessarily was too big of a chance to take. Joe responded by flat out telling them that a singlewide trailer was quite possibly the worst place on Earth to try and survive a zombie invasion. Whether or not they had any more problems with the undead paled in comparison to the fact that eventually they would run out of their current supplies and stash of ammo. It might take a month, or a year, or maybe a week, but they would run dry. Then they would have to make another run to the grocery store, only this time the food (if there was any left), the water and most of the perishable items would go bad. Joe went and grabbed a can of soup to demonstrate his point.

  “You see this? This can of soup will not last forever, and do you want to know why? Look at the expiration date on it.”

  “So what, we just eat it before it expires. That isn’t exactly rocket science.” Ashleigh fired back at Joe. Joe grinned devilishly and continued.

  “That’s not the point. Yes, we will eat it
before it expires. And then what? About three days ago, I am pretty sure that Chunky Soup went out of business. There will be no more new products for quite a long time. When we eat this, we are taking away from a finite supply.” Joe could see that he had the group’s attention now, and laid out his proposal in full.

  “Look, I don’t want to leave my home any more than you guys do. We have to face the cold, hard, facts however. In about two months it is gonna get cold and we have no electricity except for a small generator that runs on gasoline, another dwindling supply. We have a propane heater, another one that will bite the dust in shorter time than we think. We can’t afford to keep running into town either. One trip and to town and back is about ten miles, multiply that a few times over and it will add up as well. Imagine having to do everything we do now, only without gasoline. If we take enough diesel fuel with us for the train, it will run for a long damn time. I checked the manuals for that thing and it gets around 480 ton-miles per gallon. That means we can haul one ton of whatever we want for 480 miles one a single gallon of diesel.”

  The group was impressed by Joe’s speech and it seemed to him that they might all be coming around to the idea, so he kept going. “We can take those SAWs and set them up on either side of the cab of the engine to defend ourselves if necessary. We will take two of the boxcars that are attached to the train right now and load the Humvee into the second one. That way we can aim the .50 cal behind us if we need to. Nothing will stand in our way, and nothing will chase us, at least not for very fuckin’ long!” Joe built up the crescendo and the tone in his voice until he was almost yelling at them by the time he finished. His passionate speech hung in the air for a few seconds and he thought that he had lost the fight in trying to change their minds when Ronnie and Jamie got up and stood beside him in solidarity.