Cooper came strolling in sporting a sneer and another generally shitty looking attitude as well as a handful of MRE’s. Here goes nothing, Joe thought to himself.
“Cooper, I need to talk to you for a second.”
“What the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I'm going to go eat?”
Just don’t kill him, Joe thought. “We need you to come with us on a supply run, and seeing as how you are taking some of our food, then that means you share in the responsibilities from now on, too.”
Cooper took a swaggered step towards Joe. “And what if I don’t want to help, asshole? Then what? You gonna make me?”
Joe looked to his left and right to make sure no one saw what he was about to do. He reached down to his holster and pulled out his FNP 9mm. He drew the pistol and quickly put it under Cooper’s chin, the cold steel barrel grinding under his jaw. “Then I ought to just shoot you right now, jackoff. I don’t give a shit what you think you are, but let me tell you something you cocky prick; I am in charge around here and what I say goes. If you don’t want to help out around here then consider this your last fuckin’ supper. I am in no mood for any of your bullshit. From now on, you help or you get the fuck out. You feel me?”
Cooper grinded his teeth as the barrel of the gun ground into his lower jaw. He did not want to back down, but under the circumstances, he had no choice. He grumbled out a meager “whatever” before Joe released the gun from under his jaw. Joe slowly put the 9mm back in its holster, being careful not to take his eyes off Copper as he did so. “Get whatever shit you think you need, we leave in fifteen.”
Cooper stormed off with his MRE’s in hand, burning a dark shade of red from both fear and embarrassment. The low rumble of thunder signaled to Joe that they might need to get things in gear if they were going to make a run. Joe took a deep breath and calmed himself. He did not know what he was going to do with Cooper. The man was clearly not going to be of any use and Joe did not want a repeat of James to come up and bite him in the ass. Joe strolled out to the front of the terminal, grabbing his rifle at the door as he did. He was coming up with a plan for Cooper, and it was not going to be pretty.
Of course, killing another person in cold blood never is.
CHAPTER 7
Joe slammed the door on the Humvee, preferring to ride shotgun. Curtis opened the driver’s side door and climbed behind the wheel, an empty pack on his back. They had mutually agreed to let Curtis drive, seeing as how he knew the area. Balboa and Chris were also in the Humvee; Balboa was in the gunner’s seat and Chris rode behind of Curtis on the driver’s side. Cooper was on his way, lackadaisically strolling up to the side of the Humvee. His feet scrubbed the pavement, lazily scraping the soles of his shoes on the pavement. Joe still lamented the fact that he was being forced to take one of the most if not the most unreliable person that he had the misfortune of being stuck with. I think I would have rather had Lucy’s crazy-ass brother than this dipshit, Joe thought to himself. Joe had given Jamie one of the portable radios to keep in contact with them, just in case something went sideways with Cooper or pretty much anything else. Joe performed a quick radio check before they headed out to make sure it was still in operation. As he keyed up on the radio and gave thumbs up to Jamie, he noticed Cooper coming across the parking lot towards them. His heart jumped in his chest from a combination of fear and anxiety. He needed to steel his nerves to do what had to be done.
Ready or not, the time was drawing closer.
Cooper brought his laziness over to the passenger’s side door and got in. He carried with him Amos’ baseball bat. Joe was not sure how he wrangled it away from the big black man, but it was no doubt not out of the kindness of his heart. He was wondering if he had “borrowed” or just outright took it from him without his knowledge. No matter, it was not going to protect him from what Joe had planned for him. Moreover, Joe had not really planned out what he was going to do just yet; an accidental push into a group of zombies was high on the list of what was a short line of ideas. He did not want to just shoot him outright, but if it came down to it, he would. Cooper’s half-assed attitude would not be missed by anyone, especially Curtis, from what Joe could tell.
Joe’s gut wrenched from his intentions. Killing James was a spur of the moment thing; killing Cooper had given him plenty of time to think about it and it did not make it any easier to come to terms with the fact that he was going to take another person’s life. Even though his family was starting to show signs of crumbling away, he did not want to leave the possibility open for what could be a bigger threat to their safety than the zombies could. If Buffey wanted to have less stress, then it would be up to him to shoulder more of the burden. Joe wasn’t sure how much more of the burden he could bear, but if he did not try then how would he know? He usually had his head nearly full of ideas and worries, and now was no different; only now he didn't know how much more he could take before finally just keeling over.
Cooper tried several times to shut the door of the Humvee before finally getting it latched. The heavy armored door was not easy to get closed and Cooper’s half-assed effort was not doing him service. Joe rolled his eyes as Cooper grumbled to himself about the “stupid ass door” and slammed it closed. Curtis turned to Joe and nodded silently, they were ready to move out. Joe had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what he was planning. They had enough guns and rifles to go around, and every man in the Humvee – minus Cooper – had some sort of firearm. The last thing Joe wanted was an idiot with a gun riding in the same vehicle as him, especially one as potentially unstable as Cooper. Joe was surprised that Cooper had not asked for at least a handgun, but he was not going to offer him one, either.
Curtis put the Humvee in gear as Amos and Ashleigh moved the gate aside. The stench from the exterminated undead was more prevalent now, especially since the gate cut open some more of the zombies littered in front of the gate, spewing forth more pus and stink from the dispatched corpses. Curtis drove through the gate, waving to Amos and Ashleigh as he did. Amos closed the gate behind them as they went through. Curtis wheeled the Humvee down the short driveway leading to the airport and turned onto the main road. The immediate area around the airport was mostly clear of derelict vehicles, with a few exceptions. A red Ford pickup lay on its side, obviously sideswiped by another pickup that was beyond repair or use. The low rumble of thunder that Joe had heard twenty minutes before was now becoming louder. Curtis accelerated slowly through the intersection below the airport and towards their intended destination.
Joe slid the bulletproof glass that made up the passenger’s side window open and immediately closed it. The miasma of rotting flesh combined with a week’s worth of uncivilized America had made a smell that would take down the most ironclad of stomachs. Joe nearly gagged and slid the window back shut as Curtis made his way through several more intersections. The red lights that had made up the everyday routine of most people were now blank and derelict, not having worked for the last few days. The fading light of the day was also becoming more of an issue as no one in the group had anticipated how dark it got outside when there was no ambient light, no streetlights, and no signs glowing from the local Wal-Mart to draw in the customers like moths to the flame.
The five o’clock shadow from Mother Nature was getting more and more embedded as Curtis wheeled down an adjacent street to the hospital. Joe immediately noticed why that would not be their intended target. Several dozen zombies milled about in the middle of the road, as well as several hundred pounded at the entrance and the various doors and windows to the facility. God only knew if there were people still holding out in the giant building, but they were not about to stop and find out.
“Now you see why I kept to the outskirts of town and stayed off the main roads. These damn things are everywhere. I would love to get into that hospital, but I just don’t see it happening right now. I don’t know how many we can thin out but I'm damn sure that we can’t kill ‘em all,” Curtis said, not taking his eyes off the road a
s he did.
“How many people live in this county, Curtis?” Joe asked flatly, also not taking his eyes away from what was in front of him.
Curtis now took his eyes off the road and addressed Joe. “I don’t know; twenty thousand or so I think. Why do you ask?”
“Well near as I can tell this shit took out around half of the population within 48 hours. That gives you around ten thousand. Take half of the survivors that were left from that and that leaves you with around five thousand. Take half of those that either ran away or got out of town and that give you around 1,250 survivors and over fifteen thousand zombies. How many have you killed?”
Curtis tilted his head and chuckled. “Not that many my friend. I get what you're getting at. No place is going to be safe, only safer. We gotta make the best of what we can with what we got, and what we got ain’t much.”
“Let’s see what we can get from the nursing home and then we will see what we can do about the hospital. I would love to get in there especially since it looks like there is more than one story to it. We shore up the first floor and we could set up shop in there easy. We get the Coast Guard on the radio from up on top of that thing and we might be better off than we are right now. We just gotta get set up in the right place is all.”
“And why exactly are we raiding a goddamned old farts home instead of tryin’ to get to the hospital?” Cooper asked, finally breaking his silence from the back seat of the Humvee.
“Because old fart zombies aren’t exactly nimble there, Cooper. We can get in and out before they know we are there,” Joe said matter-of-factly. Cooper stared blankly back out the door of the Humvee. Joe turned his attention back towards the road leading to the hospital. The denizens that were still moving around did not pay much attention to the Humvee as it strolled past, approximately a hundred yards away.
Joe frowned as an idea crossed his mind that for whatever reason had not done so in the past week. “What exactly do we know about these things anyway?”
Chris leaned forward from the back seat. “What do you mean, man?”
Joe turned to address Chris and the rest of the group simultaneously. “Well, I mean aside from the fact that they go down with a headshot, and even that is in a little bit of a dispute, we don’t really know shit about these things. Zombies are different in different movies, games, shit like that. We really have to find out what we are up against.”
“I take it you have something in mind then?” Chris asked.
“Well, no. Not really. I just think that situational awareness is should be high on our list things to find out, aside from a more effective way to kill ‘em.”
“Well your rebar things that we made seem to work well. I packed a couple of em along for the ride. I also think that our friend, Lieutenant Wyatt was full of shit too. Every one of those things that we killed at the airport went right down, no questions asked,” Curtis replied.
“Yeah, they did. I don’t know why he would tell us that shit if he thought it wasn’t true though,” Chris said.
“Psy Ops,” Joe said, having an epiphany on the subject.
“Son of a bitch. I never thought of that. But why tell us they don’t go down with a headshot?” Curtis asked as he made a right-hand turn and eyed their destination.
“He tells us that they don’t go down with a headshot, we stop using guns and start using hand tools, axes, machetes, and bats, whatever. He catches us off guard wither without guns or at least short on ammo. Or he tells us because we start using up all the ammo, double, and triple-tapping every zombie we see, running our limited supply down to where we can’t defend ourselves.”
“What about the one that Jamie said didn't go down?” Chris asked.
Joe grinned. “Simple. We have all had one that we were sure had gone down. He starts putting ideas into our head that they don’t go down with a headshot and all of the sudden, none of ‘em go down, not because we aren’t hittin’ em in the head but because we have doubts and we start missing. He’s doing it just to fuck with us I think.”
Curtis slowed the Humvee as they pulled into the front entrance of the nursing home and put the Humvee into park and killed the engine. “Well, for all our sakes, I hope you're right. Until then I say that we take ‘em out just like we have been doin’ and gauge what we need to do from there.”
Balboa scanned the area with the Ma Deuce, swiveling the big .50 cal gun around. There were no immediate threats, but three zombies beating on the doors of the entrance. They were like the zombies from near the hospital, oblivious to their presence. Balboa stooped down from the gunner’s seat. “Three at the door. I don’t see any others, though,” he reported.
The remaining four men got out of the Humvee slowly, with the exception of Cooper who strolled out as if he had just stopped at a 7-11 to pick up a Slurpee. He jolted the door open and slammed it back shut, hopping out in the process.
Joe spun around to face Cooper, who was still oblivious to his noisemaking. Joe stalked over to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. “Does the term ‘tactical’ mean anything to you, numbnuts?”
Cooper swatted away Joe’s finger and stared at him, a quick flash of hatred in his eyes. “Listen asshole, if you wanted ‘tactical’ you should have got one of your other lackeys to do it for you. I'm not a cop or a fuckin’ soldier so you can take that soldiering and shove it right up your ass.”
Joe grabbed Cooper’s collar and dragged him towards the front of the Humvee. He pointed out the three zombies that were now directing their attention to the men instead of the front of the building. “Well consider this the first lesson in the military. When you fuck up, we all fuck up. Fortunately for you, I'm gonna give you a chance to redeem yourself by killing those three dead fuckers over there. Then I might give you a pass for bein’ such a loudmouthed sonofabitch.”
Joe shoved Cooper towards the three approaching ghouls. The first two walked side-by-side in near perfect unison as they came closer. Cooper looked back to Curtis and the rest of the group as he gripped the bat tighter. The flash of anger in his eyes grew brighter and brighter as he continued to squeeze on the grip of the bat. He spun around and raised the bat, storming towards the three zombies like a man possessed. He stopped short and backhanded the first zombie with the bat, sending it spinning backwards, its head halfway caved in by the impact. Cooper swung the bat back straight down after the impact and took out the second zombie, crushing its skull neatly down the middle, nearly in half. Cooper stumbled forth after hitting the second one and fell on his face, the third ghoul approaching slowly. He looked up in just enough time to see the black spike of Joe’s tomahawk land squarely in the head of it, the blade embedded just to the left of the zombie’s nose.
Cooper scrambled to his feet and spun around in time to see Joe finish his throwing motion. Cooper looked quickly back and forth between the zombie and Joe, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. Joe grinned and looked to Chris and Curtis.
“I always wanted to do that, seemed like a good as time as any.”
Curtis and the rest of the group collectively laughed, only adding to Cooper’s anger. Cooper got up, stomped to Joe, and raised the bat, pointing it in his chest. “Be glad that wasn’t you there, soldier boy.”
Joe openly laughed in Cooper’s face. If only you knew, asshole. I got bigger plans for you. “Yeah, whatever Barry Bonds. Nice swing you got there.”
“Fuck you, Joe.”
Joe made a mocking pout of a face. “Aww, don’t get all mad. You earned yourself a spot on the roster. Now,” Joe motioned to the entrance. “Shall we?”
Cooper angrily turned back around and headed to the front door. Curtis and Joe followed suit. Joe handed the portable radio to Chris after he pried his tomahawk from the skull of the third fallen zombie, shoving it through his belt. “Keep in touch with Jamie, dude. If things go sideways with this don’t hesitate to get the hell outta here, with or without us if you have to.”
“How will we know if things go sidew
ays?”
Joe paused momentarily before answering. “If me and Curtis doesn’t come out of there, that’s how you’ll know.”
Chris nodded and keyed up the radio. “Jamie, you there?”
A few seconds passed then Jamie gave a “10-4.” Joe drew his FNP 9mm from its holster and checked the chamber. He had a full clip plus one in the chamber. He walked over to the entrance where Cooper and Curtis were standing. Joe nodded to Curtis and he slowly opened the door, leading with his M4. The sun was quickly fading on the horizon, and the interior lighting of the nursing home was nil. There was no ambient light coming in through the windows or the soft glow of emergency “EXIT” signs, their usefulness was long gone. Curtis panned over the fancy-looking lobby. The gold-trimmed borders and the expensive-looking Victorian furniture was always a visual mask for the smell of old shit and urine that inevitably pervaded the halls of every nursing home that Joe had been to in his career. The facility and staff always had their best smile and most glowing of personalities while they were trying to talk the family into “doing the right thing” by putting poor old grandma or grandpa in a nursing home. They could make up all the terms they wanted to for how nice and clean or how many activities or how good the physical therapist was, but in the long term, it simply boiled down to money. Did you love poor grandma enough to spend $5,000 a month on a nice place? Most of the time the answer was a resounding “NO” or perhaps a “HELL NO.”
Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3 Page 31