No Room In Hell (Book 2): 400 Miles To Graceland

by William Schlichter

  Nick parks outside the elementary school turned community center of the colony. He races around the truck to open the door for Hannah.

  An older man with a grandfather face in military fatigues beats him to it. He introduces himself, “Chief Petty Officer Simon, US Navy retired. Small Arms Marksmanship Instructor.”

  “I remember meeting you at Fort Wood,” Hannah says.

  “Your father’s status as base commander won’t win you any Kewpie dolls here. You’re going to have to shoot like everyone else.”

  Hannah nods.

  “Right, now, soldier,” he speaks to Nick, “I’m commandeering your vehicle.”

  AUSTIN DRAWS HIS finger over the edge of a badly faded Wal-Mart cash card. He releases it.

  Catching it.

  Releases it.

  Catching it before it falls the twelve feet to the ground. He flips it again having worn the blue label from the plastic. Sighing, he repeats, releasing the card to catch it again. Earning his place on the gate as a crack shot does nothing to detract from the boredom of waiting for a passing biter or the never occurring survivor seeking sanctuary. The new group has military personnel; maybe he’ll give his spot on the gate and transfer to a security detail on a scavenger detail. Get an opportunity to extinguish many undead.

  He pockets his useless fully-loaded cash card. The rattle of a truck engine echoes for miles. Now without ambient noise sound travels further which means he’ll get a chance to knock off a few undead before the end of his shift. As he unslings his rifle, he notes the speed of the truck. Too fast for a resident. They would know to slow as the road ends in the sally port gate system, allowing all who enter to submit for inspection.

  He tracks the scope down the road until capturing the glint of windshield glass in the sun. His focus divides between the truck and the now eastbound approaching scavenging team. He slips his left hand from the rifle barrel to snap his fingers. If his counterpart on the opposite cargo trailer hasn’t spotted all the approaching vehicles, the bone click should make her glance his way. He won’t take his rifle off the unknown truck. The scavenging team’s early return is not unusual if they ran into problems.

  Kelsey calls down to the guards patrolling the base of the sally port before she draws a bead on the unknown truck. “One driver visible in the cab. The bed’s covered in a tarp.”

  Austin uses this moment to swing his rifle toward the convoy of scavengers. The flatbed loaded with few fence pieces and a team, weapons exposed, sit on the back. From the visible team members, they are short a few dozen members.

  “Team coming in. Alert medical staff!”

  Knowing a scavenging team was retrieving large amounts of supplies, other farm workers would be prepared to assist in unloading and distributing supplies to necessary stations. Farm workers has become the code for any member of the community unskilled for jobs necessary to keep the colony operations. Two were lawyers before the apocalypse. Highly valued in the old world, but paper pushers no longer serve a function. Here, manual ensures being fed.

  Austin lowers his rifle but remains vigilant. “Prepare for the team’s return and a second visitor,” he hollers. “You got the truck, Kelsey?”

  “Give the word and the driver’s brains paint the bed.” She smiles.

  “Not my call. Just keep him in your sights. I’ve got the scavenger team covered.”

  “You let them in first in case this lone truck’s a vanguard for an attack.”

  “I hear ya, Kelsey.”

  Danziger spots the top of a moving semi-trailer through the tree lines. He presses the brake.

  The road crossing Highway 19 ends in a wall of cargo trailers and concertina wire transformed onto a medieval castle gate system. Guard towers with snipers and dog runs stretch out from the structure. Primitive—it appears secure.

  The semi reaches the entrance.

  Danziger slows before a house in the process of being disassembled. He spots the riflemen on the cargo containers, knowing then the snipers have had him in their sights for yards. He speculates this must be the camp the wounded man directed him toward. Several people sport clean military uniforms. Not being his strongest skill, he avoids calculating the odds of accidentally discovering the convey Levin escaped to.

  “This was a grand cluster fuck.” Becky slips her sports bra into place.

  The rest of the fence team dresses around them in the center of the sally port. None of them are allowed inside Acheron until they were fully inspected and cleared of bites. The two tractor trailers have been pulled through to be unloaded and inspected. An EMT crew examines Amie off to the side of the entrance. Another medical team loads Clay into ambulance.

  Kenneth laces his boots from the bench besides her. “It wasn’t her fault.”

  “Which part wasn’t? We’ve both worked outside the fence and dealt with more biters than she has. This is what happens when you put a newb in charge. Ethan’s never done it before.”

  “I didn’t realize you cared so much about Bruce.”

  “I don’t. He was a fucking sheep fucker, idiot, and was bound to get us killed…eventually. Better he go now. He was a waste of our food supply.” Becky glares at the applauded face Kenneth gives her. “Don’t even. You know as well as I he was a waste of air.”

  “Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “Just don’t do it while I’m fucking guarding tomato plants.” She shoots her glance at the flatbed where a team of people offload what little fences they procured. “We were to get enough of those cattle panel fence pieces to place around the garden so we didn’t have to prevent the cattle from trampling the vegetables. How many are scattered along the road between her and the farm store? I hate guarding plants.”

  Kenneth secures his gun belt. “There’s not much else we can do. I never got to go to engineering school or you nursing.”

  “Pharmacology. Now I’m stuck as a guard—forever. Bullshit! I won’t be forty and guarding a fucking tomato plant.” Becky marches away from Kenneth without a gun strapped to her hip. “At least you can drive the trucks,” she mumbles at him.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  Becky waves at the guard to open the inside gate so she can enter the compound. “To give that woman a piece of my mind.” She stomps toward the ambulance.

  Doctor Baker examines Amie’s wounded leg. “It won’t require surgery, but I’ll have to stitch it up. Have them prep the operating room. If no one else is wounded let’s get her back to the community building.”

  “That was a grand fuckup you got us into today,” Becky scolds her.

  EMT Victor steps between the fuming Becky and Amie. She’s not sure how this clumsy guy passed his medical course, but she’s willing to bet he wasn’t on duty the day the outbreak went global.

  “I’m sorry about Bruce,” Amie offers, knowing these people have been surviving together for ten months.

  “I don’t care about that dumb nut. He was a fucktard and better he went alone than the rest of us.” Becky clams, “How is Clay?”

  “He’ll need X-rays.”

  “Becky, she needs surgery to repair the damage,” Dr. Baker lies to prevent a fight. “We need to go. You’ll have a chance to discuss it with her later.”

  “You cost us a lot.” Becky’s tone shifts, “But your plan did save us. No matter how mad we all are, no one could have predicted a herd.”

  Kenneth catches up with her, carrying Becky’s gun belt.

  The whirl of winches and pulleys echoes as the outer gates to the sally port close behind the beat-up Chevy.

  Austin orders Danziger, “You want past the first airlock? We’ve specific procedures to follow. Surrender all weapons. You can have them back once we qualify you to carry them.”

  Danziger steps from the truck. I was a cop. I’m more qualified to carry them than you. Danziger keeps that fact to himself. The metal cage prevents his escape or retreat. Attack from above gives the guards advantage and even if the truck exploded it woul
d take a tank to advance further. Shiny metal beams through bullet holes riddling the left cargo trailer. Someone has tried to get past the first gate and failed.

  “You and anyone with you must remove all articles of clothing and stand for inspection for bites.”

  “I’ve a wounded man with me. He has no bites, but I can’t undress him myself. He said I need to see Windquy.”

  Unless it’s a ruse to allow this guy inside as some kind of siege strategy, there is only one person still outside the fence who knows about Wanikiya. Austin lowers his rifle. The man who brought them together to form this community. The man who saved each of their lives. All of them speculate now their leader is badly hurt or dead and how they will make this new man pay if he is.

  Kelsey levels her rifle at Danziger.

  Austin moves to the end of the cargo trailer in order to peer cleanly into the truck bed. “Who sent you?”

  Danziger knows he has to reveal who he’s transporting in the truck bed. He considered showing them their man outside the gate before they had a chance to lock him in. An escape route might be better for his health. Out there he could run if he had to. They may not believe he had nothing to do with the beating. If he were in their shoes he would believe this to be a trick. No, he needs trust. He pulls back the blanket.

  Austin thinks he recognizes the swollen faced man lying there. “Get Wanikiya. NOW!”

  “You want to get docked half a meal for not having this? You can’t afford to not eat as skinny as you are.” Kenneth flashes his sparkly teeth.

  She gives him a playful “fuck-off” look before wrapping the belt around her waist. “I’ve the cup size of a ten-year-old boy and you couldn’t take your eyes from my flat chest. You wouldn’t know what to do if I gained weight.”

  “You didn’t beat her bloody?”

  “It wasn’t Amie’s fault. No one knew a herd was coming. I just hate guarding tomatoes with more important stuff to do. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I know I don’t want guard duty forever.” Becky adjusts her holster for easy draw.

  “You think what we’re doing right now is what we’ll be doing the rest of our lives? How depressing.”

  “What did you think was going to happen? You’d wake up one day to all the biters being gone? Shanking the undead is our life now.”

  “I never thought about it,” Kenneth admits.

  “The military’s gone, and the people left are scattered, barely surviving.”

  “And you’re bitchin’ because you have to guard tomatoes. How many people out there would kill for your job and enjoy the tomatoes?”

  “Keeping the cattle from the vegetables might be important, it just isn’t my career choice. You were going to engineering school?” Becky asks.

  “One semester,” Kenneth admits.

  “Why aren’t you working at the power plant?”

  “I never mentioned it. I had a CDL and they needed truck drivers.”

  “You shoot good, too, but we have to keep the power plant operation and lot of those guys running it are old,” Becky says.

  “I’ll check with—” Kenneth doesn’t get to finish before guards yell at the main gate.

  “Survivors?” Becky asks.

  “There was a pickup on the highway,” Kenneth says.

  “As long as they aren’t like the religious zealots that shot the place up weeks ago.”

  “Not everyone who has survived out there for this long has to be crazy.”

  “It helps.”

  The pair trot to the gate system. Guards unsling rifles or draw pistols. An unfriendly gesture to ensure compound security. The EMTs load Amie into the bus; Doctor Baker hops inside to wait in case needed.

  Becky reaches the inner sally port gate to witness a man raise both arms in the air and release his grip on a shiny Taurus .357, letting it dangle from one finger to show he means no harm.

  Kenneth laces his fingers in the chain link, “You ever see a gun like that before?”

  “Looks like the boss’s gun. He keeps it extra shiny.”

  “What are the chances of there being two shiny guns like that?” Kenneth asks.

  Becky can’t believe her ears or her own preceding thoughts. The gun belongs to the man who built Acheron and brought us into the safety of her walls. “No way that guy took it from Ethan.”

  Danziger eases the gun onto the hood of the truck before stepping away. He makes a couple of paces forward. “I was told to see Windquy. Win-a-qui. He’s a big tall Indian.”

  “What business do you have with Wanikiya?” Austin corrects.

  Through the windshield, Becky spots a tarp move in the truck bed. She breaks into a sprint around the cargo trailers. Kenneth chases after her.

  Supervising the unloading of supplies from the semi her team retrieved, Barlock directs what little new equipment goes where in the camp.

  Huffing for breath, Becky grabs Barlock’s arm. “Something’s…in his…truck bed,” she pants.

  “I’m sure he has some supplies.”

  Catching her breath, she insists, “Something moved.”

  “He’s asking for Wanikiya by name. You think the boss sent him?” Kenneth asks.

  “Austin have him covered?” Barlock asks.

  “He’s got a gun just like the boss,” Becky protests.

  “Let’s get this guy stripped and inside. Simon records the serial numbers. He can check once this guy’s where I can control him. Kenneth, pass the word to Austin. After we’ve locked this guy down, scan the tree line just in case he has friends.”

  Kenneth nods before climbing the ladder to the top of a cargo trailer.

  Barlock waves to the EMTs. “Let’s get these trucks out of here!” He glances at Becky. “You need to move back. You’re not on duty. Go get some chow.” He grabs Victor by the arm, lowering his voice. “Too many vehicles too close together. Get them stowed in the event this is an attack.”

  “If he’s a problem, you’ll need everyone,” Becky protests.

  “I don’t need extras getting in the way.”

  Danziger sticks his arms through the bars.

  The military doctor snips at the shredded shirt torn into bandages. He peels back the feminine pads revealing a goopy mess of puss and blood.

  “How long have you had a fever?”

  “Two, three days. Been taking Tylenol. Cleaned them a few times. Once with boiled tap water.”

  “At least they aren’t bites.”

  “You a real doctor?” Danziger asks.

  “Captain Sterling. Recently of Fort Leonard Wood.”

  “I just thought most of the medical personnel were gone in the first wave of DK infections.”

  “They call them biters around here. The military designation was vectors. I was on base and was spared. Too many hospitals across the country went dark within the first twenty-four hours.” He twists Danziger’s wrists in all directions in order to inspect every gash. Cuts and scrapes into the muscle tissue has festered into infection. “Do you remember your last tetanus shot?”

  “Been years.”

  “We have some.” He drops his voice because of the new trigger word he will use. “You are infected and bordering on blood poisoning. There are rusty flakes in here.”

  Danziger refuses to lock eyes with the doctor. I’ve no idea what kind of survivors I’ve stumbled into. The fact they have full medical staff complete with an ambulance team scares me. If these people are from Fort Wood, they picked up Levin. If I spout off about how a beaten and tortured man is a serial killer, they might lock me up instead. “Lot of people out there won’t just straight up kill you for your supplies. They want to ring something else out of you first. Break you.”

  “It gives them the semblance of control. People make their own support groups and they have lost them and all control they felt they had over life.” Dr. Sterling cleans each laceration to ensure none of them were caused by bites. “Too many of these need stitches but it’s too late now.”

  Danzi
ger nods. “In a former life I was a cop. I saw way too many men beat up on women to exert their control.”

  “I want to move you to infirmary.”

  “How’s your leader?” Danziger asks.

  “The man you brought in? Built like a brick shit house.”

  “They gave him a beating that would kill a normal man,” Danziger reports.

  “It still might.” Dr. Sterling lacks the admiration the others surrounding the gate have for the beaten man. He just met him.

  “Then what happens to me?”

  “Depends on your health insurance coverage.” Dr. Sterling’s smile lasts half a second. “I doubt these people will punish you for his death. You tried to save him. You brought him back to them.”

  “Aren’t you their doctor? You should know them.”

  “I just arrived here a week ago. Dr. Baker has been caring for them for months. He’s with Ethan now.”

  Two doctors! Fence strong enough to keep out DKs, well-fed guards, laundered clothes—this place is a heaven.

  MEDICS STRIP DOWN Ethan. They should cut off his clothes but his size garments aren’t found in regular stores. They work as fast as possible without bringing him more discomfort.

  Wanikiya remains a bystander from inside the compound as the EMTs do their job within the confines of the metal airlock gate systems. Rules. Ethan’s rules. They must follow them. Ethan would never allow them to bring anyone inside until they know if they have been bitten. People linger—almost normal—for days with a bite.

  He has witnessed it personally in the first group of survivors he teamed with. One was bit and kept it to themselves out of fear. Then when he finally died from the bite and turned he killed several before they all were destroyed.

  Two guards stand on opposite sides of a naked Danziger.

  Danziger notes the guard holding the bottom of a well-worn credit card between his thumb and forefinger, releasing it, catching the top corner before it falls. He flips the card over and repeats the process. The strange behavior interests Danziger only as far as to have something to do as the people around him clear the area. They have yet to remove him from the sally port or return his clothes.