He grabbed the collar of her shirt and tried to emphasize his point better.
“Look you little bitch; I haven’t lost good Marines to have some teeny-bopping slut fuck it up for me now. Now where the fuck did they go when they left the car dealership?” The Lieutenant raised his hand to hit her again, and she flinched, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
“I don’t know! I overheard one of em say something about going to the hospital or something like that yesterday, though!” Brittany spat out, praying for leniency.
Lieutenant Wyatt lowered his hand, knelt down, and picked her face up by her chin slowly. “See? Was that so hard?”
“No.” Brittany sniffled. Lieutenant Wyatt got to his feet and helped her up as well.
“Oh and by the way, I forgot to tell you something,” he said, pulling her close to him.
Brittany managed a weak smile and met the Lieutenant’s eyes. “What’s that, baby?”
Wyatt hugged her close and slid his arms up her back until he had her head in his hands. He smiled at her and she returned the gesture. She never felt the cervical vertebrae snap in her neck as he turned it sharply and quickly up and to the right. She slumped down, her body no longer receiving the messages from her brain to do anything else. She was unconscious in a few seconds and dead shortly after that.
“We only needed one hostage to bargain with,” Wyatt said, stepping over her limp, lifeless body.
Ruiz flipped his spent cigarette and strolled over to his lieutenant, blatantly ignoring the dead woman that Wyatt had just killed in cold blood. Wyatt stood, rubbing his temples as the wind whipped around him. Ruiz rested his arms across his chest on his M4 as he approached.
“The signs that Lowe guy put up say that they are at the airport where we found ‘em. If the guy on the train had half a thought to leaving, my money is on the hospital, too, sir. If we can get to the roof and get hold of command, we might be able to explain what we are doing without much backlash,” Ruiz said as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Wyatt. A lone zombie wandered in the distance, moaning softly across the strong wind. The sound carried a bit more than usual, causing Wyatt to cringe angrily.
“We don’t have to explain shit to command. As far as we know, they are fucked anyway. You think all those people that we took onto the Mercy when this shit started aren’t gonna turn at some point? Those stupid-assed eggheads will be dead inside a week. We aren’t gonna make it without getting their shit and especially that Humvee, so that’s what we are gonna do.”
The distant but familiar sound of a Browning .50 caliber machine gun and the report of a 5.56mm round answered Wyatt. He turned his ear into the sound and tried to echolocate it. He did not have to stretch his imagination far; as he was looking, the sign literally appeared in front of him.
A battered blue aluminum sign with a white H and an arrow signaled where to head to next.
CHAPTER 13
The job was starting to feel more like just that – a job. The men stared at the double doors of the ER in disdain, more zombie killing was to be taken care of, and a task that seemed to be minimally enjoying was now starting to feel like more of a chore to Joe and his people. No one had anticipated that the resistance on the inside of the hospital would rival the grouping on the outside. More ghouls occupied the space in front of them than they had ammo to kill them with. Joe slowly moved forward and tried to peer past the initial deluge of undead that blocked their way, trying to see if there was a light at the end of the tunnel behind them. There was not. He slowly grunted at the zombies, mocking them and stirring them up more than they already were.
“This shit is starting to really get on my nerves,” Joe said, turning back around to face his people. “Any ideas that don’t involve having to go through these assholes?”
“I don’t think it matters, dude. If we don’t do it now then we’ll have to do it later, and personally I’d rather do it before the storm gets here and we lose light,” Chris said, and glanced down at his watch. “It’s already two in the afternoon.”
Joe paced back and forth, followed by the dead eyes of the zombies still clambering at the door. The glass may have been shatterproof, but it bulged and bowed with each push of the zombies behind it, flexing the glass to it’s breaking point. A couple different ideas ran through Joe’s head, none of which was going to be easy. The preeminent plan in his brain consisted of trying to draw the group away from the ER entrance somewhere else, thinning out the numbers to the point they would be manageable.
The wind whipped around again, blowing more debris and starting a stinging rain that signaled that Joe needed to get his shit in gear and make a decision. After pacing for a few more seconds, the idea of drawing some of the dead away was the blue-ribbon winner in his brain, narrowly edging out the idea of just blasting the doors apart with the .50 cal.
“Chris, Curtis, come around to this other side with me,” Joe said motioning to the main entrance to the hospital. “We will try and gain access through there and see if we can’t get the drop on the ones here in the ER. If there is too many up there too, we keep looking until we can sneak in. The rest of you guys stay here and watch your six; I'm sure all that gunfire attracted every walker within a mile or two of here.”
Balboa was climbing into the gunner’s seat of the Humvee, apparently having read Joe’s mind and picked the silver medal idea for himself. He racked the .50 cal and looked to Joe. “We are just gonna shore up the first floor right? The way this place is built the back side is ground level with the second floor.”
“Yeah, what’s your point?” Joe said, slightly puzzled.
“My point is,” Balboa motioned like he was trying to part the Red Sea. “First floor here is expendable. We go in the backside and say goodnight to these assholes here. I will pull the Humvee up to the doors once I’ve blasted it to block up the hole. Sound like a plan, boss?”
Joe’s internal light bulb finally came on. Finally, someone had come up with a viable idea that did not involve trying to get someone killed. Joe stepped aside courteously and pointed with his hands to the doorway. “After you, sir.”
Balboa grinned devilishly, slightly scary, and adjusted the aim of the .50 cal and let loose a barrage of the machine gun’s rage aimed squarely at the zombie-infested double doors. The shatterproof glass proved to be no match for the gun as bits of it and the surrounding materials were shredded in an instant by the huge 12.7x99mm NATO round that blasted through it. Balboa fired in one continuous six-second burst and ceased firing when he could no longer see movement in the ER doors. The collective ear ringing of all those who were within a few feet of the machine gun was nearly audible as the group collectively rubbed their ears.
“Remind me to design a suppressor for that damn thing. Christ that is loud!” Jamie said as he continued rubbing the bell out of his ears.
Balboa climbed out from under the gunner’s seat and surveyed his work. The doors had been blasted to bits, shatterproof or not. A few lingering zombies tripped and stumbled over one another as they tried in vain to get out of the newly-formed doorway. Some were missing legs, others missing arms, a testament to the power of the stray destruction that the .50 cal was capable of. Chris stepped forth and drew his sidearm to take care of the last remaining undead. Joe lowered his arm as he brought the .45 up.
“Don’t worry about these. We can ill afford the ammo and my ears are killin’ me,” Joe said, managing a disingenuous smile. Chris crinkled his forehead in a disapproving fashion, but lowered the gun nonetheless.
“C’mon let’s get unloaded up around back, after that we will go and clear the building. We need to go floor-by-floor. I know it’s gonna suck, but if we plan on getting any sleep in those nice, comfy beds then we have got to get our affairs in order first. Security is our top priority.”
Balboa pulled the Humvee in front of the demolished ER doors, effectively blocking the hole that he had just made with the Ma Deuce. The vehicle would be able to withstand most any force,
including a hurricane-force wind. The armor plating on it would also assure that nothing would be penetrated through it, although the wind now picked up and gusted again, as if it was able to fling a blade of grass through a 2x4. He pulled the Humvee up with the passenger’s side door facing the hole so in the event that he needed to get back in to drive he would with minimal invasiveness. The rest of the group was already at the back entrance to the hospital, a floor above the ER entrance that they had originally gathered at.
The structure looked to be relatively new, as far as hospitals go. That fact was reaffirmed as the group passed a giant bronze placard in the front of it that read “2001” in bold letters, followed by what appeared to be the name of the construction company that had built it. There was a cul-de-sac type turn around in front that the other two vehicles fit into nicely. The trucks were parked bed-to-bed in the event that another quick escape was necessary, and Joe was hoping against hope that it would not be the case. They had been on the run all week and no place was absolutely safe, just safer. Whenever they seemed to make it to a point of some rest and hopeful relaxation, they were run off by more of the living dead.
The front of Monroe County Hospital was a bit more secure than the airport was. An awning protected the front causeway and was not overly populated with anything that could break – mainly windows – and, like the rest of the building, was brick. Joe was impressed that they would be not only saved from the hurricane – which the group had been referring to as “Hurricane Zed” – but could be relatively comfortable, too.
Joe filed up to the front door. It was difficult to see inside with the lack of proper lighting. The natural sunlight was not in great abundance, so Joe switched on the flashlight on the end of his rifle and slowly moved it back and forth through the window. There were a couple of zombies that, once Joe shined the light in, became aware of his presence. Joe acted fast, slinging his rifle and drawing his 9mm.
“Chris, come with me and get these few out of the way. That way we can at least get inside out of this weather,” Joe said, motioning to follow.
“Alright. Everybody else hang back and watch our six. We don’t know if there’s any more of them lurkin’ around.
Joe hesitated for a split second. Chris is taking charge. Maybe I can ease up a little now, he thought. Joe walked over to the doors and holstered his sidearm. “Cover me,” He said as he reached for the doors with both hands and attempted to pull them open. They moved, unlocked thankfully, and slowly opened. The zombies in the entrance were now less than twenty feet away, slowly ambling over to them. The first appeared to be one of the housekeepers; the second looked to be an armed security officer with a duty belt, complete with revolver. Another gun was always a welcome sight, hopefully with ammo to go with it. A revolver was something that was always reliable as well, never jamming at the inappropriate time.
Joe forced the doors open wide enough for Chris to fit his small frame through the doorway sideways. Chris immediately pulled out his .45 and took out the two zombies in the hall. It took more shots than he would have liked but considering the lack of adequate lighting, it was not bad. Joe filed in after shoving the doors open a little more and motioned Curtis to hand him his rifle. Curtis handed the AR-15 to him and Joe used the light once more to have a look around.
The lobby was in disarray but still useable and no longer inhabited by the undead as far as he could tell. Chris had already made his way over to the hospital’s meager but still somewhat stocked gift shop. He emerged a few seconds later with a handful of Red Bull cans in his possession, chugging down one as he walked. Joe moved the light over to where Chris was coming out with the cans. Joe smiled in the low light as Chris approached.
“Oh my God I miss these fucking things!” Chris said in between slurps of the Red Bull.
“Any Monster in there? I know it kinda seems like poor taste considering the current situation but I really need some comfort food right now,” Joe said, salivating over the thought of an energy drink.
“I thought you would want one, here,” Chris said, reaching into his back pocket and producing the sugary black and green can.
Joe snatched the drink from Chris and popped the tab. Even warm, it was still the best thing that he had ever tasted. Joe slugged down over half the can when he noticed that he had an audience.
Curtis and Balboa were standing in the doorway, now wide open. “You gonna invite the rest of us in there?” Balboa said as he laughed at Chris and Joe’s incessant fix of caffeine.
Joe waved the rest of the group inside. The troupe was more than happy to come in and take in the surroundings. Ashleigh, Rickey, and Jamie all stared at Joe and Chris taking in some of the sweet nectar they had procured.
“Where did you get that?” The three of them said almost simultaneously. Joe and Chris were finishing off their respective cans and looking for more. Joe motioned to the other three sugar-seeking people in their midst and walked back over to the gift shop. Buffey was holding Dakota in her makeshift papoose and moving towards the gift shop as well. The baby had been nearly naked since they had left the house in Rural Retreat and they had been using cloth diapers (such as they were, nothing more than ripped-up sheets). Buffey walked into the gift shop and immediately went to the small section of baby items that were available. Luckily some clothes and several packs of brand-name diapers were still in supply. Buffey grabbed them up as well as a pack of baby wipes and began to give the child a makeshift bath on the counter of the shop. Money was scattered about near the cash register, a sign that the world had truly gone to shit. No one cared enough to grab the cash, even in the end times.
Ashleigh, Jamie, and Rickey all raided the gift shop for different items. Ashleigh and Rickey grabbed sodas and mostly candy bars, while Jamie made a run on the cheap coffee that the hospital had. It wasn’t Kona or Starbucks, but it would have to do. Everyone settled into a chair or couch in the lobby and dropped their gear, packs, and supplies. A sigh of contentment spread throughout the group, and they collectively relaxed in their respective areas.
Joe walked into the gift shop after Jamie, Ashleigh, and Rickey had exited the area. Buffey was in there by herself, tending to Dakota. She was putting a long-sleeved set of pajamas on Dakota after changing and cleaning him up. Joe stood a few feet away and Buffey did not notice him at first. He intentionally cleared his throat to get her attention as she was finishing. She glanced over her shoulder and placed Dakota in the papoose with a freshly made bottle. The little infant took to the bottle immediately.
“I suppose that you want to talk about the whole ‘divorce’ thing. I haven’t changed my mind about that, I'm sorry,” she said without looking up.
Joe nodded. “I didn't think that you had. I just wanted to say that I was, well that I am sorry – about everything. I have been so busy trying to keep us alive and safe that I didn't give you guys the person that you wanted instead of the person that you needed.”
Buffey stood, gently rocking Dakota and looking down at him. She was visibly upset, and had been for some time. She had not said much of anything to anyone since her talk of “divorce” to Joe. She did not have the words to express what she was feeling. She did not want to give in to the fact that she still loved Joe but she did not like what he had become. She looked back up to him with a somber face.
“I want to apologize too. It isn’t that I wanted you to have to become what you have, but the fact that you have become that. You have to take care of more than one person and I didn't want you to think that you were making decisions based on what was good for the group instead of what was good for just me,” she meekly put forth.
Joe stepped a little closer and spoke low and quietly. “I am sorry about that and I will do my best not to muddle up whatever is going through your mind. I have a plan to get us some real help and if we make it to the Gulf of Mexico, we can part ways if you’d like.”
Joe turned slowly to walk away. “Thank you. For saving us – all of us. We wouldn’t have made it
this far without you,” Buffey said as Joe walked away.
Joe stopped and looked over his left shoulder. “You’re welcome, for what it’s worth.”
Joe went back into the lobby and tried to hold himself together and push back his feelings. He did not like the way that he felt, and it was not going away anytime soon. He would put up a front that made him seem invincible and not vulnerable to the petty emotions that plagued him at the moment. He did not want to break down in front of his cohorts, but he would sooner or later. He prayed that he would be by himself when that time came.
“You alright there, champ?” Curtis had snuck up near Joe without him noticing as he was daydreaming. Joe played it off like he was looking towards the second floor of the hospital.
“Yeah, just looking at the second floor there. I want to go ahead and get us an area that is completely clear so we can try to start clearing out the whole place,” Joe forced a happy smile. “Nice isn’t it?”
Curtis did not further his delving into Joe’s psyche. He returned the smile and gazed around him, taking in the surroundings. “Yeah it is. Bigger’n the airport and it has comfy beds, not to mention a relatively stocked gift shop full of all kinds of shit that is bad for us. I’ll take it,” Curtis said and laughed. Joe put down the Monster that he was drinking at Curtis’ comment and returned a genuine smile this time.
Six Feet From Hell: Books 1 - 3 Page 36