Six Feet From Hell: Unity: 6FFH Book #5 (5 page)

Footsteps.

Joe simultaneously drew his .45 as he spun around, the footsteps stopping as he aimed the gun into the darkness. A painfully quiet few seconds passed. Joe could hear the soft breathing of someone standing about ten feet from him. “Who’s there?”

“It’s
me, Angel. Could you put the gun away, please?”

Joe
was immediately embarrassed. He hurriedly holstered the .45, fumbling the pistol into the holster. “Oh, damn! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to draw on you, it’s just instinct anymore.”

Angel
lowered her voice. “Don’t worry about it, hun. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

Joe
frowned in the darkness, slightly confused. “Then what were you trying to do?”

Angel
stepped forward. Joe could just barely make out her face as she stepped in front of him. Her soft features appeared as she stood directly in front of him. The tiny amount of light behind him reflected off her eyes. The sight, for some reason, relaxed Joe. He felt a rush of endorphins as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was shorter than he was, her hands barely connecting behind his neck. Joe eased his hands around her waist, prompting another flood of adrenaline. He wrapped his hand around her back as she leaned in and kissed him, slowly and delicately at first, then passionate and firm. They stayed locked in their embrace, both wanting each other, both needing a companion. Angel slowly eased back after a few seconds and smiled in the darkness.

“That’s
what I was trying to do.”

CHAPTER
5

April 18, 2022 – 0715 hours

The next morning, Joe sat waiting for breakfast before anyone else. He and Angel had arrived before the residents of Tazewell filed in. They had spent the night together, both enamored with each other and both needing the night of companionship and stress relief. Angel was now behind the counter helping Heather with breakfast. The sweet smell of bacon in the morning reminded Joe of his military days for some reason. The early morning smell of delicious food always brought back memories of finishing PT in the pre-dawn hours. The morning runs that brought them in front of the mess hall always managed to give him a little more incentive to go faster. A hungry soldier was a motivated soldier.

Joe tried his best to contain his childish giddiness. He hadn’t been with a woman in a long time, and it showed on his face. He couldn’t keep from smiling as he sat and watched Angel work behind the counter. Every so often, she would catch him looking and throw a cheerful wink his direction. He would grin and look down, not ashamed of the wonderful night that he’d spent with her, but just unsure of how to go about the dating game in the post-apocalyptic world. One thing was for sure, though – he wanted her and she wanted him.

Joe shook off his romantic daydreaming and stared back down at the timeworn notebook in front of him. It was a hardback green military composition book that he’d gathered from Camp Dawson; it was essential to his day-to-day operations. He had written down several ideas that he wanted to put into place, starting with recovering the LMTV from inside the East River Tunnel. Taking over the Richlands National Guard and the Bluefield Army Reserve units were next. Unfortunately, he had little to rely on for extra personnel. He wanted at least four or five men per station and wanted to rotate every few days. The biggest issue aside from the personnel was the fuel consumption. Larry had been making a decent amount of biodiesel before they arrived and Joe was hoping the LMTV in the tunnel had a few cans on it as well. The Dodge that Larry used wasn’t exactly a hybrid, either. The truck was lucky to get fifteen miles-per-gallon on the highway, and that was with ultra-low-sulfur diesel. The biodiesel wasn’t as reliable, but it made it from point A to point B.

Joe penned in several names to the list of outpost volunteers. He, and Rick, Curtis, Jamie, Balboa, Larry, Cornbread and Jim Crowley made up most of the work force that he had at his disposal. That was not enough. He would have to carouse around town to gather more reinforcements. That in of itself would be a difficult mission. Most of the citizens in town had a good thing going and didn’t want to stray from their daily norms. The only other person that had versed any interest in doing anything was Boyd, and he was horribly inexperienced. Maybe a trip out to the tunnel would decide his mettle. Joe penned his name with a question mark. That was still not enough for what he wanted. He kicked back in the chair and folded his hands over his head, pondering.

Rick came walking in a few seconds later, with Kane in tow. The dog had become an indispensable part of their team. Not only did the dog have excellent hunting skills, he was hyperaware of the undead threat when it approached. The German shepherd spotted Joe and looked to Rick for approval.

“Go on, then. Get some table scraps from Dad,” Rick said.

The dog grunted slightly and trotted over to Joe. Joe sat forward in his chair and met the canine. He ruffled the dog’s fur and gave a hearty pat on his belly. A couple of months of decent food had brought back the luster to his coat and he looked much healthier than when they had picked him up in Kentucky.

Kentucky!

“Motherfucker! I got it!” Kane snapped his head up and met Joe’s gaze. He looked down to the dog and smiled. “Sorry Kane, I just figured something out.”

Rick came over with a cup of hot apple cider. The coffee had long since been gone and no one knew how to grow and preserve the plant, so apple cider was as close as they got to an early morning breakfast beverage. Rick sat down next to his father; a shit-eating grin was on Joe’s face still. Rick looked all around and behind him, trying to spot what Joe had seen.

“What? Did I say the word of the day?”

“No! I just figured out who we can get to help us with the Richlands and Bluefield OP’s.”

Rick’s brow furrowed. “And who might that be?” He took a slow sip of cider and watched his father.

“Remember the folks from Hazard, Kentucky? We never did go back and tell them that we had found Tazewell. We owe them for keeping us safe and feeding us. It’s only right that we go back to them and let them know there are other places they can go. I’m almost positive Camp Brown would come back with us now, especially if we tell them about the wall.”

Rick thought for a moment. “Might be worth the drive. Problem is, that is gonna cost us quite a bit of diesel, especially if we use the biodiesel. It’s warm out, but not warm enough to keep it from gelling up. We’re gonna need some anti-gel additive and a full tank of diesel, preferably not the biodiesel,” Rick sat his mug down and let out a long sigh. “That being said, you know what Larry is gonna ask.”

“What might that be?”

“What are they gonna bring to the table? We can’t just bring thirty or so more mouths to feed around here without them doing something in return. I understand that they helped us out, but we were only there for one day. If they come here, they are gonna be here a lot longer than just a day. They are gonna have to have something for us in return,” Rick replied.

“You sound like you’ve got something in mind.”

Rick shuffled in his seat slightly. “Not really. I just think that we ought to have a job for everyone here, you know, find out people’s strengths and weaknesses. The way that things are done nowadays seems a little unorganized. We need to get the town together and get some more opinions on what they might want. They are gonna be the ones doing extra work so we can go. I think it’s only fair that we ask if they are okay with what we want to do.”

* * *

“We don’t want ‘em!”

The grand introduction and explanation that Joe had planned out fell apart in a single sentence. He stood on a table near the entrance to the chow hall, trying to gather the collective attention of the masses in front of him. Nearly all the residents had shown up for breakfast, each one braving the cool drizzle that had begun to fall outside. The denizens of Tazewell were not in the mood for hearing a scheme to bring more work and possibly more problems to the town. A dozen different arguments, all separate from one another, flooded the large building. Joe let his arms fall to his side, disappointed.

“Calm down and listen to the man!” Larry yelled from beneath where Joe stood. The citizens lowered their chatter and turned their attention to the two men. Larry clambered up onto the table with Joe and addressed his people.

“Most of you know me personally. Almost all of you knew me
before
the world went to hell. You know that I would never do anything to put your lives in jeopardy,” Larry said. He paced the top of the table as he spoke. “I was a paramedic for nearly ten years when the undead came. I helped people back then; people who were less than worthy of the caring that they received, but I did it anyway. I didn’t judge people on the base of whether they could pay for my services, whether they were worthy of care, or whether they were decent human beings. I treated them all the same. The people that Joe wants to help are decent people. They took him in and gave him food and a place to sleep. They gave him a truck to drive. They didn’t ask for anything in return. As far as I’m concerned, that qualifies them for help.” Larry stopped and faced the crowd.

“Where are they?” A voice from the middle of the crowd yelled out.

“Joe said that they are holed up in an old UPS building in Hazard, Kentucky that they nicknamed ‘Camp Brown.’ It’s about a hundred and fifty miles from here. Normally it would take around three hours to get there, but I would conservatively say five hours now. I think it’s only fair that we at least extend help to them. I’m not asking for anyone to come with us, but if you want, you can.”

“I’m game,” Boyd hollered out.

Joe pointed to Boyd. “Not for the Hazard run, Boyd. We plan to put some listening posts in Richlands and Bluefield, that’s why I want to go get the folks from Camp Brown. I’m gonna take as few people as possible for it so we can bring back as many as we can. Camp Brown only had about thirty people, so if I take myself and two others, then we should be able to fit most, if not all of them in the LMTV.”

“Where is this LMTV? I don’t recall us having one,” Boyd asked.

“That’s what I want you to come with me on. It will be me, Rick, Curtis, Boyd…and Captain White.”

The uproar from the crowd was nearly unanimous and simultaneous. Angry shouts, finger pointing, and fist waving. The natives were restless. There had been no explanation of Captain White thus far, and people weren’t going to sit and wait for one. It was time to see if Joe’s risky move would pay off, the first step being the citizens’ approval.

“That
sonofabitch tried to kill you! What in the hell are you thinking?” A random voice rose above the din of the crowd.

“AT
EASE!” Joe screamed. The phrase had little meaning to most of the civilians within earshot, but it subsided the screaming chorus of angry citizens. It was a phrase from his military days, one that was yelled when an NCO walked into the room, or when a group of soldiers got a little out of hand with their mouths.

Joe
continued on the table, as the citizens looked on silenced. “Captain White is not of your concern. I’m the one that took him in, and I will be the one to look after him. I’m going to take him out on a couple missions. If he does well, then I will keep him, if not then we will have him executed. It’s as simple as that. I want to make outposts in Richlands and Bluefield if we have more unwanted guests, and I want to get the folks from Hazard.”

“We
didn’t have many unwanted guests until ya’ll showed up! We minded our own business and kept the Mountain Men and the Snake Handlers outta here by our damn selves. Not that we ain’t grateful for the rifles and whatnot, but it seems trouble is followin’ you boys around quite a bit.” Another voice from the crowd rose above the others. The man had the gall to question the motives of Joe and his team, all the while grasping the M4 that Joe had brought to him.

Joe
pointed a finger and started to respond when he realized that he had no idea who the Mountain Men or the Snake Handlers were. He had an idea, but was afraid to voice it now. The Snake Handlers were most likely the followers of the Church of God With Signs Following, a sect in the area that was notorious for handling venomous snakes and drinking strychnine. They believed that if your faith were strong enough then the poison from the bite or other source would not harm you. There had been many members of the church that had died of snakebites and other poisonings. In the days when the law meant something, it was perfectly legal in the state of West Virginia.

The
“Mountain Men” as near as Joe could tell would most likely be some of the infamous
Wrong Turn
types that had been so stereotypical years ago. The film had been a horror movie that turned the typecast West Virginian into the starved, crazy, inbred cannibal. Not that there wasn’t some of the crazy inbred hicks in the backwoods and mountains of West Virginia, from what Joe had seen. God knows there was some basis to the stereotype.

The
people were obviously more concerned with the immediate threat as opposed to the
possible
threat. There was still no indication that Wyatt was going to make a run on Tazewell, but there would be no way to convince the populace of the danger of him attacking. Thinking quickly, Joe came up with a scheme to take care of both of his problems.

“The
Mountain Men and the Snake Handlers are a big part of why I want to make these outposts. If we have a few people on either end of the county, it’ll give us a heads up on anything that might be coming our way. I’d love to extend the wall out here in town as well. The big issue is that we don’t have enough people for what I have planned. I’m not asking for any of you to do this, but if you would like to help then you are more than welcome to.

“I
want to go get our friends in Hazard and I want them to come here to help, not to hinder. I would like them to make this place more secure as well. I want to make a more stable life than we already have. We should never settle for just living right now, we need to
succeed
as well. We need food, water, safety and shelter. Everything we do after that should be to increase our quality of living.” Joe raised his arms to the people and gave them what they wanted.

“Because
this is our town and I’ll be damned if anyone is gonna take it from us!”

An
uneasy stillness greeted Joe as he fired off his last line.
Great,
he thought,
now I’m a politician, lying to get what I want.
“If you want to continue your current jobs, then, please do so. If you would like to volunteer for missions outside the wall, speak with Larry or myself. If you would like to be trained in some of the combat operations, let me know as well. We will be teaching house clearing, explosives, communications, and medical training, so if you have any experience in these areas, let us know if you would like to help. I’ll let ya’ll get back to breakfast now.”