I climbed up on another segment of platform and peered over the edge down the entrance road.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Check dude out.”
We looked up the entrance driveway towards the main road. Someone was watching our gate. He wore a dark red tee shirt, saggy jeans, and had crazy hair. Of course, I couldn’t criticize on hygiene. I smelled bad and hadn’t shaved in weeks.
“I guess that is one of local gangbangers.”
“Yeah,” SWAT Cop replied. “They know how to get in here, too.”
“I bet they were stealing rims and tires here before all this shit started.”
“You read that ‘Incident Notice’, too?” I asked.
“Yup,” SWAT Cop replied nodded knowing. “Every six months someone loses four tires on this property.”
“Dude,” I said. “We’re gonna meet by the pool in five minutes to improve out defenses.”
“I better stay here and keep an eye on these bastards.”
“Alright, you’ve got the most firepower.”
We all ran back around the trash compactor, crossed the tennis court, and went to our command post. All the leaders were there and then some.
“How is Charan?” asked a pretty, but frantic, young Indian woman in a bright blue sari.
“We have a pharmacist tending to his wounds,” I told her.
“Oh no, oh no!” she replied. “We are to be married soon. Charan should see a doctor!”
“Right now, that’s a little tough. We are surrounded by zombies and a gang of criminals.”
“Criminals? I told him that we should not have taken contract assignments here. But, he would not listen to me,” the young woman continued. “He said this was the only place we could both work until our parents could visit and we could get married.”
“I told my husband that we shouldn’t come to Atlanta either,” Karen chimed in.
My wife exchanged knowing glances with the Indian woman.
“Sometimes men do not listen!”
“You got that right!” my wife exclaimed extending her hand enthusiastically. “My name is Karen.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” her new friend said warmly. “My name is Saina.”
Sensing that a mutual frustration with men had helped to bridge cultural barriers, I moved on to greet some of the other leaders and residents. It proved to be a fruitful meeting.
Chapter 36
In the meeting by the pool, we had agreed to harden our guard posts, to make sure that we had guards with guns posted to cover each side of the complex, to make sure we had a 360-degree view of our fences, and to reinforce the gates with vehicles so that the gang members couldn’t just crash the gates and rampage through the complex. Preston made everyone understand that we had a new enemy and that living, breathing, humans would probe our defenses for weak spots, create diversions, and attack us intelligently. In many ways, a well-armed, well-organized, criminal gang was a far more dangerous threat than mindless zombies. We took stock of where we were and what we had available to us.
Saina and Karen came up with an idea to stain extra sheets with tea and hang them from some of the breezeways and balconies to conceal our guards and our movements. We also agreed to barricade some of our guard positions and use plastic garbage bags full of dirt as a sand bags. It would take some serious work. But, it would help. Now, that we new criminals were arrayed against us, we were all worried about firepower and ammunition. We were also worried about medical treatment for Charan and anyone else who got wounded.
Our discussion of Charan’s medical situation was the most tense part of the meeting. When I brought up the topic of medical care for our wounded, I was quickly interrupted.
"You have to do the needful for Charan," Vijay told us. "He needs to go to the hospital!"
"We just got our asses kicked going one mile." I replied.
"You cannot expect us to go out and fight." Vijay said. "…if we cannot get proper medical treatment."
I saw the look of exasperated frustration on the young programmer's face. It was a look that wondered when Americans would get their acts together.
"Are the hospitals even open?" Karen asked.
"We have to do something." Viay said. "Otherwise Charan will die."
We were in a quandary. To get Charan proper medical attention, we would have to transport him to a hospital. We had no idea if hospitals were even open. Transporting him would require a journey of many zombie-infested miles to get to a hospital. Even a journey of a mile or two had already resulted in serious injury and the expenditure of lots of precious ammunition.
Mike had been right about needing more advanced medical supplies and about needing to get Charan to a full-service medical facility with a doctor. We just weren’t sure those kinds of facilities even existed anymore. We hadn’t seen any sign of organized government in a long time. The Indians were adamant that their friend, co-worker, and neighbor receive professional medical care. However, they seemed to grudgingly understand our collective predicament. We agreed to mount an expedition to get Charan to medical care as soon as it was practical.
Chapter 37
After the meeting broke, we divided into groups to upgrade defenses, establish new guard posts, and reload magazines for our weapons. It was becoming apparent that ammunition supplies were also going to become a critical issue. We passed the word around that firearms weren’t to be used on Zombies except for in the most extreme situations. Instead, we would use “melee weapons” like spears, knives, bats, clubs and hatchets. We also had folks get started on a stockpile together for an expedition to get medical care for Charan.
Karen, Vijay, and I returned to our makeshift hospital to check on Charan. It was apparent that practical was going to need to mean soon. The young man was turning very pale for someone from the subcontinent. Bandages and direct pressure could only do so much for a gun shot wound. He was going into shock. The young guy probably weighed 150 pounds. He wasn't really built to withstand much damage.
“Where should we take him,” I wondered out loud.
"What about local clinics?" Karen answered with a question. "There's the HMO clinic across the highway."
"They would at least have basic surgical instruments," the pharmacist chimed in.
"But, what about a Doctor?" I asked.
Mike thought and answered, “I would suspect that doctors aren’t there any more.”
"A clinic is not a hospital," Vijay said stubbornly.
"We have to do something soon. He is suffering and we can’t just let him die.” Karen said finally. "Let's just load him up and run him up to the hospital in Marietta."
“Why not?” I replied. “Our truck is trashed anyway.”
“We’ll have to load it up with some supplies first,” Karen offered.
“Sure,” Vijay said hopefully. “Let’s do the needful!”
We spent the next hour getting supplies together and stocking our truck. This time, we put the larger half of the back seat down so that Charan would be able to lay down fully. One of the Indian gentlemen even donated a foam mattress pad. We brought a pretty decent first aid kit with plenty of rags for bandaging wounds. We also packed water, some ammunition, and some food as well. With the car loaded up, all we had to do was get Charan loaded up and get out of the complex.
Karen and I walked Dale and planned out a route that would get us away from the gang that had mauled our convoy in the first place. We would first go west before turning north towards the hospital. While his firepower was needed to defend the complex, SWAT Cop came up with a plan for getting us out and past the gangbangers that were watching the complex.
We figured that once we were passed the gang lookouts, the journey to Marietta Hospital would have been fairly easy. After all, it's just a straight shot down Marietta Road through Cumberland and past the Marietta Square. We figured we'd have a better chance going there than going to Grady. While Grady Memorial Hospital downtown was the state's premiere le
vel one trauma center, we were sure that it would be impossible to reach due to zombies and criminals.
With Charan getting delirious, we decided to leave as quickly as possible. Once the truck was packed, we gently placed our patient into the back again. Every move seemed to hurt him. It was obvious that we would have to travel fast. It would only be Vijay, Charan, Karen, and me. We would take only one vehicle. The rest of the residents would have to stand guard and keep the criminals at bay. But, first, we would have to escape the complex using the one available entrance and exit.
A small group of Charan’s friends gathered in the pool area. They had a .22 rifle, a .38 revolver, a 9mm Glock, and assorted knives, cricket bats, and a step ladder. The plan was that they would make their way over a short fence near the rental office and along a narrow stretches of bushes, trees, and fence that separated the parking lot and line of apartment buildings from the drive down into the complex. When they got into position, they’d take out the gang members and we’d charge out of the gates.
It was a hazardous undertaking, they were on a slight down slope from the drive. To their front was an unknown number of gang members. To their back was a 30-foot drop down into the parking lot. They didn’t have much room to maneuver at all. But, somehow, they did it. We waited just around the bend from the trash compactor and exit gate. Suddenly, we heard a distant volley of gunshots. Then more gunshots close by. One of the Indians guarding the gate stepped around the compactor.
“Go! Go!,” he said waving his arms wildly.
Karen put the pedal to the floor and the SUV gathered steam. By the time we reached the open gate, the engine was producing high revs and we were doing thirty.
“We got ‘em!,” SWAT Cop yelled to us as we blew past him.
As we climbed the slight incline to the end of the drive, we saw two dead gang members laying on the left side of the street. Our daring little militia was emerging from the underbrush with broad smiles and yells exhorting us to drive even faster. A man in saggy pants stepped out into the road ahead of us and leveled a large pistol that was based on an AR-15. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. Frustrated, he looked down at his weapon to see what was wrong. A shot rang out and the gangster wannabe dropped dead. The Indians had shot him. Karen was so frazzled that she had to cut sharply left at the sharp curve to the stop sign and the main road by the complex.
Directly on the curb across the street from our vehicle, someone had parked a beat up old burgundy Nissan 240SX with an ill-fitting, after market, rear wing and front air dam that was cracked and all scraped up. I noticed that the dark window tint of the car was bubbling and nasty. But, the rims on the car were very shiny and the cheap low profile tires protruded from the wheel wells at an odd angle.
“That must have been their car,” Karen observed.
Just then, a young woman popped up from behind the 240SX with a very bulky semi-automatic pistol. It appeared to be a Hi Point—widely regarded as one of the cheapest reliable pistols available. As she raised her pistol, I stuck my own Smith and Wesson out of the passenger window and fired. I saw the muzzle flash from her pistol. Our rear view mirror shattered and flew into the back seat as a complex web of spider cracks spread across the windshield. I certainly didn’t want to be killed by a cheap gun so I fired again and the woman threw herself to the ground.
Our tires squealed and we heard people and things flying around in the back. Karen floored it and turned onto the main road. This time we turned away from Mount Johnston Road and went in the other direction. As we drew parallel to the parked Nissan, I fired two more shots to keep the gang girl pinned down. As we roared down the road, we heard another single gunshot followed by a barrage of small arms fire from the complex. If we would have had a rear view mirror, we would have seen our little militia take down the girl who had been shooting at us.
Chapter 38
After the violent start, the trip to Marietta calmed down a bit. Karen was driving like she didn't want to get shot at by hoodlums or be eaten by zombies. A quick right into a tree filled residential neighborhood kept us away from Zombie clogged highway interchanges. There were a few small clusters of Zombies. However, we blasted right by them at thirty-five to forty-five miles per hour until we hit a big speed bump. We got more than a little air. Vijay actually hit the ceiling. The spidery cracks on the windshield expanded a little more.
“Slow down, woman!” he cried. “You will get us all killed.”
“Sorry! Sorry!,” came the drivers reply. “I forgot about those!”
As a husband, I exercised my right to remain silent. Thankfully, Karen remembered the other two speed bumps. But, the spidery cracks across the windshield were really starting to affect visibility. I reached into the pocket on the back of the driver seat and pulled out our big Maglite.
“Stop for a second,” I said.
We were on a residential street and I didn’t see any zombies close to us. So, I smashed out the windshield from the inside. It seemed like a great idea. But, broken glass went everywhere.
“What the hell are you doing?” my dainty spouse asked.
“Making it so we can see and shoot!”
I hopped out, pulled on my gloves, and peeled the windshield remnants off and out of our way. Now the front and the back of our truck were open to the elements. We could see and we could shoot and we had nothing between us and drooling zombies. As I threw the last of the windshield to the ground, I could sense the approach of oncoming zombies. They had raspy breath, low moans, a shuffling walk, and a horrible smell. In my peripheral vision, I saw that a couple of the dead were about forty feet away.
“Get in!,” Karen screamed.
I ran back around the front of the truck and hopped in. Karen punched it and we left the heavy breathers behind.
After a few quick turns in the neighborhood, we reached Marietta Road. Karen stopped at the light and looked both ways. There was no human traffic in either direction. Marietta Road featured 2 lanes in either direction and a center turn lane occasionally broken up by a center median strip. In the middle of the intersection, a large black crow was tugging at the entrails of a human corpse. A murder of crows lurked on nearby telephone lines hoping to participate in the feast.
"You can go," I said.
"Gross! Are you sure you guys want to do this?" Karen replied.
"Yes," Vijay piped up. "We must get Charan some help."
Karen made a right and accelerated down Marietta Road which amazingly led towards the historic city of Marietta.
Chapter 39
While there were abandoned vehicles along the route, the road was passable. Karen kept us moving at nearly fifty. Plantation park flashed by on the left. In the late nineteenth century, it had been a stately antebellum-style plantation home. The city of Cumberland had restored the house for municipal offices, a banquet hall, and event spaces. The grounds were now a park. We walked Dale on the immaculate lawn regularly. Now, clusters of zombies roamed with impunity.
"The park is busy today," I quipped.
"Maybe we should go on up to the city?" Karen replied.
"Some one has to feed the ducks."
"No we have to go to the hospital," Vijay interjected in an indignant tone.
Karen and I just smiled at each other. Whenever there were large crowds, homeless people, or suspicious people in the park, we would drive up a few blocks to the Cumberland Town Center and walk Dale around the duck pond. Obviously, our little inside joke was lost on our Indian friend.
Then we all pitched forward as Karen stomped on the brakes. The intersection of Marietta Road and Lexington Avenue was clogged with abandoned vehicles. Hundreds of zombies were milling about.
"We'll have to turn back," I said.
"No," she replied. "I can punch through and drive on the sidewalk."
Karen put the Highlanders nose up against the rear quarter panel of an old Saturn Ion and mashed the accelerator. The lighter car slid out of the way and our bumper lined up with the nose of
a Honda Civic on the right and a rusty old Ford Ranger on the left. Again she punched it. The Civic gave way, but the rear of the truck slammed against the curb and stopped. The Toyota revved but didn't move.
"We're caught!" I yelled.
Vijay raised his hand to point at zombies approaching the rear window. But, before he could speak, Karen slammed the SUV in reverse and backed into them. The zombies bounced back about twenty feet and Vijay went sprawling in the back.
Before Vijay could regain his balance, Karen slammed into the Honda Civic again. The airbags deployed smacking her hands off the wheel, but she quickly got her hands back into position. The Toyota slammed into the curb, we heard two loud pops and we were up onto the sidewalk. Karen hit the gas and smacked through two zombies directly in front of us. But, we heard the tell tale flopping of flat tires as we moved forward.
Even worse, our path forward was starting narrow. On our left, Marietta Road was jammed and the fences and dirt mounds of a construction site hemmed us in on the right. Up ahead, Marietta Road went in front of Cumberland Town Center. Legions of zombies were filling in behind us.
The only way out was to keep pushing forward. But it looked as though Marietta Road and the sidewalks were blocked with a hodgepodge of police cars, fire trucks, and National Guard trucks.
Zombie Complex | Book 1 | The Battle For Chattahoochee Run Page 9