Six Feet From Hell: Unity: 6FFH Book #5 (8 page)

“
The old guy is Don McKinley. I think he was a cop somewhere over in Kentucky, but he doesn’t talk about it much. I’ve never had a problem with him. That being said, I don’t think that anyone is above suspicion, but what exactly are you suspicious
of
?”

Joe
shrugged, continuing to stare ahead as he did. “Nothing really. Just thinking out loud I suppose.”

They
rode the rest of the way to the jail in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. The uncomfortable silence was broken once by the groan of the unconscious woman in the back seat. She stirred slightly, but still did not wake up.

Larry
pulled the Dodge beside the jail and threw the truck into park. He turned around to face their unknown captive. “Alright, let’s get the skank into one of the cells and get an IV started on her. I don’t know how much good it’s gonna do until she wakes up, but it’s a start I suppose.”

“What
medical supplies do we have left?” Joe asked as he got out of the truck, headed to the back to assist.

Larry
opened the driver’s side rear door and grabbed the woman under the arms, grimacing from the overpowering smell. “Not much, and honestly I don’t want to waste any more on her than I have to. If it looks like she’s not gonna make it, then I propose that we just give her a double tap and be done with it. We don’t know what disease she might be carrying and we don’t have much in the way of antibiotics. Most of the stuff we
do
have expired a long time ago, so they might not work at all.”

Rick
grabbed her feet and helped heft the woman out. He too was assaulted by the stench. Curtis moved ahead and opened the door to the jail and the rest of the troupe moved inside. Rick and Larry put the woman in a cell on the second floor while Joe headed towards the third floor with Curtis. Captain White was the lone resident of the third floor, along with whoever drew guard duty for him. Freeing up two people a day now would make a dent in the need for quality personnel, albeit a small one.

Joe’s
footsteps clanged off the aluminum staircase as he ascended from the second floor to the third. Curtis’ steps did the same, echoing through the enclosed stairwell. Joe was noticeable in his approach up the steps, taking them a little bit slower than usual. He still wasn’t sold on his own idea of keeping Captain White, but an idea that had been bouncing around in his head for a few weeks started to come to the surface as he reached the third floor landing. He swung open the door and into the hallway. Cornbread and Balboa sat in front of the cell, both having a cup of apple cider and conversing.

“Mornin’
Joe, Curtis,” Cornbread said, holding his mug up in greeting.

“Mornin’
Cornbread. How’s our guest doing?”

Balboa
glanced back to the cell. “He’s been quiet, oddly enough. I guess he knows he’s getting’ a pardon from the governor, at least for the time being.”

Joe
was mildly offended. He didn’t want the men or anyone else in the community to see him with that kind of power. While he wanted to have the opportunity to make sure that Captain White would be a viable asset, he hadn’t realized that he pretty much had gotten what he wanted since arriving in Tazewell. Every idea, every mission, and every decision that he had set his mind to had come to fruition. For nearly a decade, Larry had been the sole person in charge of the town’s resources. Once Joe and his team arrived, everything had changed for
them
, but not for
him
. He still took care of the issues and had yet to give up his power over, well, anything. He still got what he wanted and still told others what to do. Maybe Rick was right, maybe it was time for him to hang it up, or at least relegate some of his authority to someone else.

Joe
drew his .45 from his holster and motioned to Balboa to open the door. “Open it up.”

Balboa
dug the mass of keys out of his pocket, finding the right one finally. The door creaked as he opened, revealing the former U.S. Marine sitting on his cot. Captain White stood and tried to straighten the wrinkles in his clothes, patting himself off.

“You
people made up your mind. That’s good to see. It’s about fuckin’ time.” His heart raced as he stood in front of Joe. With the .45 in his hand, it looked to be the end of the line for him. He’d had a good run, and didn’t expect them to accept him anyway. The least he could do is die with some of his dignity; he wasn’t going to go out crying like a bitch. “Just make it quick. I don’t feel like bein’ a fuckin’ vegetable, so you had better do it right.”

Joe
waved Captain White out of the cell. He was afraid that White was going to make a move for his .45, but the Marine stood fast. Joe stepped directly in front of him until the two were eye-to-eye. Captain White was taller than he was by four inches, standing about 6’ 1” and sporting an unkempt beard and haircut. They hadn’t let him shave or cut his hair during his four-month stay. He didn’t smell so great, either.

“If
you step out of line, I will kill you. If you try to hurt one of our people, I will kill you. If you question my orders or anyone else’s orders, well, you get the idea. If you can live with these terms, then I have a job for you, Captain White,” Joe said, getting down to the point.

White
looked to the sky for a moment before he answered. “What do you have in mind for me?”

“No.
First, you agree to our terms, and then we put you to work.”

White
folded his arms, mulling the idea over. It wasn’t as if his options were going to get any better anytime soon. Might as well play along and see what they wanted. “Fine. I agree. Now, what do you want from me?”

Joe
took a deep breath and let it out quickly. He couldn’t believe what he was about to ask the man that had tried to kill him less than four months ago, but it needed to be done. It was for the greater good. It was a win-win situation, or so he hoped.

“I
need you to help train some of my people, but you will have to prove your worth first.”

White
looked intrigued. “And how am I gonna do that, per se?”

“You’re
coming on a mission with us.”

CHAPTER
8

April 18, 2022 – 1147 hours

After nearly three hours of discussion, each man had his tasks and team members assigned for the day’s duties. Joe stuck with his original idea of taking Rick, Boyd, Curtis, and Captain White out to take back the LMTV supplies. Larry stayed in the jail, the Jane Doe as best he could. They had managed to get an IV started on the woman, but weren’t going to waste what little resources they had left on her if it looked like she wasn’t going to make it. The antibiotics that were left didn’t have much potency, so if she didn’t wake up on her own, there wouldn’t be much hope. Larry was going to give her 24 hours, which the others agreed. After tomorrow morning, they would reevaluate her and see if further intervention was needed, deserved, and available. From her pallor and grayish look, it looked like she would be incredibly lucky if she
made
it until morning.

Larry had recruited a woman, Beverly, and her husband Roy to watch over the wounded woman. Beverly had been a CNA in another life, and her husband was a former corrections officer with some useful medical knowledge. The pair agreed to watch over the woman until the morning. Larry had arranged for the chow hall to bring them food in the evening as well as the morning meal. He tried his best to take care of the people that went out of the way to help, and this was far out of the way for the couple. After explaining the woman’s condition as best he could, he left them with her.

Larry closed the cell and stepped out. “I don’t know how much time she has. I doubt that she’ll survive at all, and even if she did, we would waste more resources than it’s worth to keep her alive.”

“Got any suggestions?” Joe asked.

Larry sat down next to his longtime friend. “I do, but it’s a bit of a risk.”

Joe chuckled. “Our entire existence is a risk nowadays, buddy. I’m all ears.”

“You remember Kody?”

Joe thought back to another one of his long-lost friends. Larry was supposed to have delivered Kody back to his home out in the county. Joe hadn’t spoken to Kody since that fated day when it had all started. Another person in a long line of lost contacts. Joe grinned. “Yeah, I remember him. He still alive?”

“As far as I know, yeah. He’s only made a few trips into town over the years. He and I had a falling out that day that I took him home. I had to leave him a little short of his destination and I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for that.” Larry looked down forlornly. Maybe he hadn’t been able to forgive
himself
for nearly getting his friend killed; he was just doing what he needed to do to survive.

“Well I’m sure that he has his reasons. Why do you ask about him anyway?”

“Who is the smartest medic that you know?” Larry asked.

“Aside from you?”

Larry shook his head. “I’ve got more
street
smarts than
book
smarts. If we want to know what’s goin’ on with this woman, then we are gonna need someone with more technical knowledge than you or I have. The few times Kody did come to town, he went to the library and took most of the medical textbooks he could get hold of. I wasn’t happy with that, but when he got hold of ‘em and left, it was too late.”

“So you’re volunteering to go get him?”

Larry was shortly taken aback. He absently scratched the back of his neck. “Actually, I was kinda hoping you would.”

Joe shook his head. “I’ve got Captain White to deal with. I told you guys he was my responsibility. Besides, it sounds like you need to mend some bridges with Kody. Why don’t you go out on horseback? Take Balboa with you to get Kody and show that you have some new people. Tell him that I made it back to town, and I have some friends that could use some medical training. I already have Captain White to train the ins and outs of battle and weapons, so why don’t we get Kody to teach some of the people some medical skills. It wouldn’t hurt to have some more knowledge, never does.”

Larry wasn’t particularly thrilled about going out into Thompson Valley, especially on horseback, but Joe made a good argument. He slowly nodded. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do, but I make no promises.”

“No promises in combat. Just make sure you make it back in once piece, regardless of whether you get him to come with you.”

Larry stood up and extended a handshake. “Will do. C’mon, then. We both have work to do today.”

* * *

Joe stood at the driver’s side door of the Dodge Ram, patiently waiting on the rest of the crew to get their individual gear ready for the ride out. The road, according to Curtis, had been in decent shape when he’d came through. That meant a thirty-minute drive out; not including a stop at the wrecked LMTVs to siphon fuel. The third LMTV was left in haste, but, with any luck, should still be in one piece. Joe had thrown in a set of jumper cables and battery if it didn’t want to start. Add in a bottle of Sta-Bil and anti-gel just in case, and he figured that all bases were covered in case the truck needed any tinkering. Anything beyond that, and it would be more of a problem than it was worth. Regardless of the condition of the truck, the supplies in the back of it were crucial to his newly concocted plan. There was no sense in trying to train personnel with what little they had, it would take more than was available.

Captain
White sat in the driver’s side rear of the truck. He was laid back and resting his arm on the top of the back seat. Joe’s offer was solid enough, and it got him out of the jail. Too many days of sitting in the small cell had given him a new outlook on what he needed to do to survive, and if it meant going with Joe and his people, then so be it. He was tired of not having anything to eat and tired of not having anything to do. After General Wyatt had sent him to Tennessee, he’d felt like that he might be able to get free of Wyatt’s bullshit and tyrannical idealism, but the men that he’d been charged with commanding had been completely committed to the cause. He wasn’t able to just up and leave them for fear of them hunting him down, and make no mistake, they would do just that. They did it not out of respect, though, but out of fear of what would happen if they didn’t. He hadn’t lied to Joe about what would happen to a man for insubordination. Taking a bullet in the back of the head wasn’t the way he wanted to be relieved of his command. The more that he’d sat in that cell, the more the radical ideas that Wyatt had instilled in him and his men seemed to fade away, replaced by more important things like eating and surviving. Taking Joe’s offer was the best way to take care of both of those issues. It would be just as it was back in his USMC days; take care of the Corps and the Corps would take care of you. He would have a roof over his head, food to eat, and most importantly, freedom. It was time for him to put things back in perspective, and now was the time to begin. He leaned back and let out a long sigh. Time to punch in for the day and earn his keep. “We gonna get this show on the road anytime soon, boss?”

Rick
shot White an indignant look as he approached. He walked up alongside the Ram and tossed his weary-looking field pack into the bed of the truck. “You ready, pops?”

Joe
put his rifle into the driver’s side, barrel down. “Yeah, just waiting on Curtis, and we gotta stop and get Boyd at the main gate.”

“I’m
here, Joe. Ya’ll ready to head out?” Curtis answered as he strode up.

“You
got full mags?”

Curtis
patted his chest rig. “Yep, full load. I hope that we don’t need it, honestly.”

“Alright.
Mount up and let’s get outta here. We still gotta stop and get Boyd, and I want to be back as soon as possible so we aren’t caught out in low light. Sunset is still around six o’clock, so we’ve got time as long as we don’t fuck around.” Joe hopped into the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt out of habit. No matter how little he drove nowadays, he never could break his driving routine. Seatbelts, mirrors, and adjusting the seat were still second nature when he got into a vehicle.

Rick
hopped in the back of the truck with Kane as the Curtis got into the passenger’s seat. Each man situated himself, readying weapons and checking magazines, except Captain White. Joe hadn’t given him a weapon just yet. Trust was the biggest issue that he had with him, and giving him a rifle wasn’t out of the question, but giving him one now was. There was plenty the ex-Marine could do without a weapon, and Joe wanted to see how good he was without one. If he could survive without one, then he would be well suited to train his people on how to make it
with
one.

A
couple minutes and one short stop later, the truck was packed with the crew. Boyd drew the short straw of sitting in the back seat with Captain White during the ride. White didn’t mind the company; he was already laid back, feet kicked up and nearly asleep. His feet were impinging on Boyd’s limited personal space in the back of the truck.

Boyd
leaned towards the window as White’s feet splayed out in front of him. Annoyed, he tried to creep away from the dirty clodhoppers as best he could. The fake leg that White wore unsettled him for some reason as well. He pushed White’s feet away brusquely.

“You
mind movin’ your feet, asshole?”

White
quickly stomped his feet on the floorboards, reached up to Boyd’s left shoulder, and snatched the large infantry knife that he had attached to the strap of his bag. Boyd never knew that he was in danger until Captain White was holding the edged weapon against his throat.

Joe
saw the swift movement out of the corner of his eye, as well as in the rearview mirror. He slammed on the brakes, violently pitching everyone forward, minus himself and Captain White, who had anticipated the sudden stop. White had braced himself against the rear of the front seat with his other hand.

Joe
spun around, drawing his .45 and cocking back the hammer in one swift motion. “Drop it White! Drop it or I will paint the inside this truck with your fuckin’ brains!”

Rick
saw the commotion through the window and drew his own sidearm, pointing it through the partition. Curtis had his pistol pointed at the beleaguered captain as well. Three to one wasn’t the kind of odds that Captain Marcus White was used to.

Captain
White slowly turned towards Joe, the knife still held at Boyd’s throat. Boyd sat with his hands up in surrender, already relegating himself to whatever White had planned, his eyes wide and horrified.

White
slowly lowered the knife, spun it around, and handed it back to Boyd. Boyd, realizing what he’d done and what an embarrassment he’d been, snatched the large knife away from White. He fumbled with it, finally shoving it back into the Kydex sheath on his shoulder.

White
held his hands up slowly as Joe continued to hold a bead on him with the .45. “Your boy here needs to not be so rude to me. Especially if I’m gonna be training little bed wetters like him.”

Joe
eased the hammer forward on his .45 and slid it back into its holster. “Your job right now is to not piss me off. I have no qualms about leavin’ your ass on the side of the road with nothing but a hole in your head and a clear conscience. Your life expectancy depends on your usefulness right about now. I suggest you play nice.” Joe turned to Boyd, nodding back to White. “And Boyd, try not to piss him off, okay?”

“Asshole
wouldn’t move his feet so…”

“Boyd,
just keep your hands to yourself. White, the same goes for you too. I feel like it’s a goddamned nursery school in here.” Joe turned back around, resecured himself in the driver’s seat, and headed back out. He took a deep breath and eased the Dodge onto the main four-lane highway.

* * *

“You sure you don’t wanna go?” Balboa asked Cornbread as he helped secure the saddle on his horse. Cornbread, newly relieved from his guard duties, had accompanied Larry to the stables to give him a hand. The lack of guard duty let him go back to his normal duties as the de facto sheriff for the town, but nothing had come up yet.

Cornbread laughed. “Ha! You ever seen a one-armed man ride a horse? Besides, Jamie and I got something to work on today; I’d be better off helpin’ him.”

“No, but I wouldn’t put it out of the question. It could be done.”

“Yeah, and you can drive a car with your feet too, but that don’t make it a good fuckin’ idea.”

Balboa guffawed. “Fair enough.” He cinched the last strap on the saddle and directed his attention to Larry. “So how far out are we going? I’d like to be back for dinner.”

Larry shoved his rifle into the makeshift sidesaddle holster and came around to the front of the horses. “About eight miles or so. The horses make it go by quick, so it should only take us an hour or so there and an hour or so back. We’ll be back in time, buddy.”

Balboa nodded silently. He grabbed the saddle, put his foot in the stirrup, and hoisted himself up. The horse – aptly named Beefcake – took a few steps back and grunted as he situated himself on the animal.

“Whoa, buddy. Been a while since I rode one of these things.” Balboa cinched the reins and lightly tapped them on the horse, signaling to the animal that he was ready to move. Beefcake moved forward slowly. He pulled on the left and right hand sides of the reins, directing him to move in the intended direction, which the horse obliged easily. He patted the horse on the back of the neck gently. “Alright, there Beefcake. You take care of me, and I’ll make sure you get an apple or some other shit that horses eat. Deal?”