Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3

by Coley, Joseph

  Joe shook off his musings and got back to work doing what needed to be done. Balboa had the Humvee out and had obtained the entire stash of extra diesel that he could manage, which was not much. The Humvee thankfully had a nearly full tank and two extra five-gallon jerry cans filled. It was not much, but it would serve its purpose. Balboa was managing to stuff more and more items in every space he could; sleeping bags, ammo, water, and other supplies were shoved into every nook and cranny of the armored vehicle.

  Curtis had explained during the loading process that most of Monroeville was under control by the undead. When the shit hit the fan most of Monroeville was still asleep, the gas seeping up through the ground in areas had awakened the recently deceased and had them mobile before anyone really knew what was going on. The dead had taken over the town in a matter of a few hours, slowly turning the citizens of the small Alabama town into the walking dead. Pure chaos had taken over and there was no rescuing attempted as the local public safety had been overwhelmed from the get-go.

  Curtis looked towards Lucy as he helped Joe with the odds and ends of getting their final affairs in order before leaving the train for good. “What’s her deal? She looks like her dog just died.”

  Joe took in a deep breath and explained Lucy’s situation to Curtis. “Well, for the most part, she has. We rescued her from her crazy ass father and sadistic brother right before we met you. Her brother was tryin’ to fuck her physically and her father was mentally,” Joe looked towards Lucy as he spoke. Lucy let out a wry smile as she noticed Joe staring at her momentarily. “She got me and two of ours kidnapped by helping out her brother.”

  “Jesus, man. Why do you trust her at all then? If I was you, I woulda just killed her when I had the chance, deal or no deal,” Curtis said, stopping to look at Joe’s expression.

  “I don’t think it’s right to kill the living, especially since she did help us out, against her will or not. Besides, I don’t think she’s that bad, really. There is some good left in her I think.”

  “Why do you say that, partner?”

  Joe shuffled anxiously. “She doesn’t seem like the hardcore killer they wanted her to be. I saw her before and after what happened with our people, and it’s like night and day. I don’t know what happened to her before we got there, but they fucked her up real good. Just keep an eye on her; I don’t know what her deal is quite yet.”

  Curtis nodded in acknowledgement, knowing now that Lucy needed to be on a short leash. Joe nodded back in return, and then looked to his people hard at work. Jamie had taken care of all the ammo that they had, from the 5.56mm rounds that the M4 used, to the rest of the .50 cal ammo that the Ma Deuce fired. Ashleigh and Buffey gathered up what water they had left as well. Balboa was checking the oil and coolant levels in the Humvee making sure that there would be no more mishaps in transportation. Joe continued his look around the smoking freight train as his people continued loading down the last available space on the Humvee. Each person had their own bag stuffed with food, water, and ammo. Joe shuddered as he walked along the edge of the train tracks around to the cabin of the first engine, making one last round in the front of the train. The September air should have been a little warmer due to their current position in Alabama, but the air outdoors was paltry and cold. Joe still wore the multicam ACU’s that he had procured from the Army-Navy store right before his kidnapping, now stained with blood, dirt, and a hodgepodge of other splotches and stains. His face was scraggly and covered in a week’s worth of beard growth, as he had not shaved since the dead had begun to rise. He had not shaved for two or three days before that as well. Joe walked back to where Curtis was standing, assisting with loading the last of the supplies into the Humvee. Joe patted him on the back as he approached.

  “So tell me, Curtis, how did you manage to fare as well as we have without all the supplies that we do?”

  Curtis grinned, and then chuckled a bit at Joe’s query. “Well a little bit of luck, and a lot of bein’ in the right place at the right time. Tell ya the truth; I didn’t start off as well as you might think. The first day was pure hell for me, as I’m sure it was for ya’ll too.”

  “How was your first day of zombie hunting, then?” Joe laughed at the absurdity of the question, not realizing that he himself had made a good run at hunting the undead.

  Curtis returned Joe’s laugh with a good-hearted chortle of his own. “I will tell ya the whole thing.”

  CHAPTER 3

  He had not had a bad run when the shit hit the fan a few days before. Curtis’ story of the bedlam that had taken place during that fateful first day was not unlike what had happened to so many others. He told that he had been up for hunting season, dressed in his ACU’s, and had been near the airport when he had first heard the goosebump-inducing moans of the undead as they slowly shambled up to the airport. He had luckily stashed his hunting gear in a truck that had since broken down. He abandoned his hunting rifle in favor of the assault rifle that he now possessed, albeit with limited ammo. The first few zombies that he had seen were shambling in front of him in the middle of the road as he came through an intersection in town around six in the morning. The undead pedestrian had been oblivious to the warnings of a Monroeville police officer and had come at the officer, trying to take a chunk out of him.

  Curtis sat in his truck, watched as the zombie took several rounds to the chest, and kept coming at the officer as the police officer desperately tried to reload. The walking dead served a calculated purpose – to feed. The officer did not stand a chance as the zombie started taking chunks out of his face as another officer rolled on the scene and was nearly met with the same fate as he unloaded a clip into the fetid corpse. The officer realized that he was no match for the walking dead and had managed to get back into his cruiser as the zombie loomed towards him, taking off in the opposite direction, lights and siren blaring.

  The early morning lack of light made it difficult for him to figure out exactly what the pedestrian was at a distance. Once he realized what it was he was stricken with fear, unable to wrap his mind around what he had seen. Curtis sat in his truck as the zombie harmlessly fell at the front of the police cruiser, unable to properly hold itself up. Curtis referred to the walker as “it” as he was unable to differentiate between sexes. The zombie had been dead for quite some time and had no discernible markings or features that separated it as male or female. Curtis had approached the walking corpse as it was trying to regain its bearings and go after him or the now dead Monroeville police officer.

  Curtis brought his hunting rifle up and aimed at the head of the zombie as it turned and lurched towards him. Its black, rotting skin had fallen off in chunks as it fell and scraped itself along the hard pavement. He squeezed the trigger of the rifle, sending the brain of the zombie violently splattering against the pavement behind him. Curtis stood in awe of what he had done. He had just blown the brains out of what appeared to be one of the living dead. He stood, mouth agape, and stared at the ground behind the defeated corpse desperately trying to figure out what was going on. He did not see or hear the fallen officer behind him as he started to stir as well. The undead officer went from deceased to dangerous in just a few short seconds. The officer shambled his way up, his right arm useless as it had been chewed away. He got up and to his feet with a surprising quickness as the hunger for human flesh consumed him, much like how he wanted to consume Curtis.

  Curtis prodded the twice-dead zombie, got no response from it, and turned to walk away when the undead officer attacked. The officer grunted and lunged towards Curtis, giving away his position just before attacking. Curtis spun around when he heard the gurgling sounds as he was attacked. He threw up the rifle in defense as the officer gargled and spat blood through his now disgustingly colored teeth. Curtis caught him with the rifle in front of him as he fell back, landing hard on his back and knocking the wind out of his lungs. The officer snapped and growled at him as he fought to get by the rifle and take a chunk of his face. Curtis fought the
buttstock end of the rifle loose and haphazardly swung at the zombie’s head, knocking it off him and giving him an opening to get off his back. Curtis got to his feet, having a hard time getting his legs under him, grabbed the bolt of the rifle, and slammed it back. The next round slammed home as Curtis chambered another .308 round into the breach. He raised the gun and looked down the barrel as he was too close to use the high-powered scope mounted on the rifle. The zombie got to his feet and snarled again at Curtis as he rammed the barrel into the open mouth of the ghoul. Curtis jerked the trigger and the undead officer stopped his pursuit immediately. Another spray of brain matter and clotted blood flew onto the officer’s car, bathing the blue LED lightbar with a sickening paste of human remains.

  Curtis slumped down and rested his head on the front of the Monroeville Police cruiser, his hands stretched across the hood. His deep panting combined with the amount of blood that he was covered in could have mistaken him for one of the undead that he had just taken out. He shook his thoughts clear and raised himself on the brush guard of the police car. Through the bloodstained windshield and the flashing lights of the cruiser, he saw the outline of a shotgun latched in its holder. Curtis wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and composed himself. He got around to the still-open driver’s side door and sat himself in the front seat. He glanced around the interior of the cruiser until he found the key to the latch on the shotgun, freeing it from its lock. He opened the rack and made sure that the scattergun was loaded and searched around for the trunk release, finding it. The trunk popped open and Curtis went around to the back of the car and searched around. He grabbed the ballistic vest, a black baseball cap, and the M4 that he now possessed, along with several magazines of ammo.

  Curtis adjusted the vest to fit him as he minded his surroundings. The faint crackle of gunfire popped as he did so, letting him know that he was not alone in the fight against the undead, even though he still could not wrap his mind around the concept of shooting people in the head. He pulled the bold back on the M4 and checked the chamber, with one round in it. Dropping the clip and feeling the weight, he surmised that it was a full twenty rounds. The security of having the rifle in his hands felt reassuring. He could at least defend himself until he could find out whatever he could about the current issue that was plaguing the area.

  Curtis walked back over to his truck and got in, placing the M4 barrel-down in the passenger seat, finally taking a much needed deep breath as the pop of gunfire was getting closer. The sound got his attention and he put the black pickup in gear and began slowly driving down the streets of Monroeville. The populace as a whole did not quite seem to be aware of what was going on, as not many people were roaming the streets. Another abandoned police car and a Monroeville Fire Department first response vehicle, a red and white Ford Explorer, otherwise occupied the few zombies that he saw while moving along. The sun crept over the horizon, casting an eerie purplish glow over the town. Curtis mind went into gear as to what was causing the dead to walk. The caustic looking sky did not look like anything that he had ever seen before. His first guess was a nuclear power plant meltdown, but there were none in the area. The local landfill may have had a strange leak of some sort, but not to the effect that it would cause the sky to change color in the way that it had.

  He was contemplating the mysteries of the odd-looking sky when the vehicle slammed into him, jarring him back to a harsh reality. The impact from the other vehicle sent glass exploding towards him in a hail of broken shards. He instinctively threw his hands up and tried to avert the flying chunks of sharpened glass, showering him and causing a dozen or more biting cuts on his face and hands. The impact threw him against the driver’s side of his truck, the other car barreling into the passenger’s side. He slowly came to rest after the collision, the car T boning him and throwing him nearly off the road. The truck came to rest in a ditch near the intersection that Curtis was attempting to drive through, completely unaware of the still-working red light at the intersection.

  “Son of a bitch! Damn Sunday drivers!” Curtis shook the cobwebs loose and tried to gather himself. He looked back to the intersection where the crumpled vehicle was hissing smoke from a busted radiator off to his right. Curtis fumbled around with his seatbelt, the small bits of glass further cutting his fingers as he did, and released the buckle. Curtis slumped back in the seat and sighed. “If it ain’t one damn thing it has to be another.”

  Curtis grabbed the M4 from the passenger’s seat, apparently undamaged in the wreck. He quickly checked the red dot sight on the rifle; it did not fare as well as the rifle did. The light still came on, but the lens was cracked, rendering it useless. Curtis flipped the disconnects on the sight and threw it down, flipping up the rear iron sight instead. He grabbed the door handle and forced it open, spilling himself outside of the vehicle and into the cockeyed ditch. Forcing himself up, Curtis recovered and scanned around with the rifle. The first thing he noticed was the driver of the other vehicle hanging half out of the windshield of the mangled car. The driver had apparently not had his seat belt on and was pre-extricated through the windshield. Curtis approached him slowly, rifle raised and at the ready. The eerie glow of the sky cast a pallor shine on the hood of the car, its occupant face down on it. The glistening crimson of blood that lay on the hood trickled down and joined with the dark pavement in a small pool. Curtis got to within a few steps of the car when its driver became reanimated.

  The motorist that joined the ranks of the undead slowly clawed at the glass on the hood as it tried to move its way out of the vehicle that pinned it in. It’s face was mangled from the impact of going through the windshield, falling off as it growled and gnashed at Curtis as he approached a few steps closer. The zombie raised it’s head in defiance, and it was promptly blown apart by the 5.56mm round that Curtis fired through it. The shot did not go unnoticed; several zombies that were milling around within earshot of the blast came to and started making their way towards him. Curtis realized at once what he had done. No stranger to zombie movies, he had a very quick epiphany of what was happening. The gunshot would attract more of the undead to his position, and now without wheels he was in a bad spot. He looked again to make sure the windshield zombie was indeed dead, and then he slung the rifle over his shoulder and began to dart around to see what he could use as a spot to hole up in for a few minutes.

  The blue ‘H’ sign that indicated the hospital was out of the question, as most people who had become bitten or were otherwise infected would be rushing there soon. As if to prove his point, the faint wail of a siren indicated that either the fire department or rescue squad was out in force this morning. He turned behind him and looked about, eyeing another sign that might be of some service. He grinned and began to trot down the road leading to his hopeful salvation.

  Monroe County Airport.

  CHAPTER 4

  Joe sat and listened to the tale of how Curtis came to be at the Monroe County airport as the Humvee that he and his group were piled into approached the gate of the aforementioned airport. “That is the long and the short of it my friend. Necessity is the mother of invention.” Curtis chuckled as they made their way up to the edge of the gate. Joe chuckled as well as he pulled up to the gate, impressed with what he saw. The two men standing at the chain link fence looked apprehensively at Joe’s desert tan Humvee as it rolled up. The men backpedaled as the Humvee came to a stop. Curtis jumped out from his position in the passenger seat as the men continued to step back. Once they noticed that he was getting out, they stopped their retreat. Curtis raised his arms and waved them back and forth as he approached them.

  “Hey guys, stop it’s me, I’ve got some help. Get those damn gates open, Cooper!”

  A fat, balding, middle-aged man gave a disapproving glance to Curtis. The fat man that was apparently Cooper walked towards the gate with a much-dented wooden baseball bat, grabbed the latch on the chain link gate, and slid it open. Joe drove the Humvee through the gate and up to what Joe assumed was t
he main terminal. He parked the vehicle in front of the building and shut the engine off. The clown car scene of people got out of the Humvee as Joe clambered out as well. Buffey was holding Dakota as she and Ashleigh got out of the backseat, followed by Jamie and Chris; Balboa slid down from under the gunner’s seat and Rickey got out from between the back seats and got on terra firma as well. Lucy slowly removed herself from in between the front seats and got out, not speaking as she did.

  Curtis strolled up, with Cooper and another middle-aged man in tow. The other man looked about the same age as Curtis, he carried a bloodstained machete, was dressed in a decent looking pair of business slacks and a no sleeved “wife beater” shirt. He was a muscular black man in his arms and neck, but the paunch of middle-aged life pervaded his midsection. Cooper pushed his way past a smiling Curtis and came up behind of Joe and shoved him brusquely. Joe spun around and met his pursuer eye-to-eye.

  “So what the hell are you supposed to be? The goddamned cavalry?” Cooper said, furling his brow.

  “I’m the guy who is gonna save your ass, dipshit. What the fuck is this asshole’s problem, Curtis?” Joe said, not backing down from Cooper. Joe looked past him and towards a still approaching Curtis.

  “Hey Cooper! You piece of shit, they are here to help us!” Curtis grabbed the collar of Cooper’s shirt and pulled him back. “Forgive this dumbass, Joe. He don’t mix real well with the rest of us, but at least he is decent at killing zombies. I'm sure that you have had one of these pricks before,” Curtis glared at Cooper as he pulled him face-to-face. “Too bad they don’t last real long out on their own. Do they, Joe?”