diesel and little else. The third LMTV in the East River tunnel was their best chance for a cache of weapons and everything else. With any luck, it would still be intact.
There was a large contingent of zombies near the trucks, and even a few tangled in with the canvas tarp that covered the trucks. The road stretched out in front of them for a half-mile before turning to the left and continuing on its way towards Bluefield. The straight stretch that was in sight had over two dozen, if not more, zombies along it. The undead shambled along the route as if competing in the world’s slowest marathon. The rumble of the Ram’s diesel engine caught the ear of some of the closest ones, and they slowly shambled towards the sound.
Joe pulled the Ram alongside the LMTVs and rolled his window down. He grabbed his suppressed M4 from the seat beside him and took two well-placed shots at the entangled zombies, dropping each one with a single shot. He brought the M4 back inside the truck and opened his door as the rest of his men exited the vehicle as well.
“Alright, looks like we don’t have a hell of a lot of time to do this, so let’s make it quick. Rick, stay on top of the truck and thin out some of those assholes down the road. Curtis, you and Boyd watch our rear,” Joe ordered.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Stand here with my thumb up my ass?” Captain White said indignantly.
Joe reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out the Jerry cans and a length of garden hose that held the tanks together. He shoved the items into White’s chest and smiled. “Nope. You’re the gas station attendant for the day.” Joe tilted his head towards the LMTVs. “Get to it. I’ll cover you.”
White looked down at the Jerry cans and sighed deeply. He grabbed the cans and the hose and walked to the first LMTV’s fuel tank. Fuck it, he thought, beats being locked up.
While White lumbered over to the LMTV, Joe took point at the front of the truck, walking the perimeter of the wrecked LMTVs. The canvas tarps that covered them were torn and lying around the trucks. As Joe reached the rear of the trucks, Rick began firing long-range rounds at the random zombies down the road. The first shot made Joe jump, as he was not expecting it, but the subsequent shots had little effect on him. He pulled his own rifle up, keeping the butt of the M4 at his right shoulder. He kept the rifle at low ready, scanning around him for any unwanted guests. Looking off to his left, he saw a trail of fluids leading from the second truck.
“White, get as much as you can out of that one, looks like the other one here has leaked out.” Joe walked up to the side-mounted fuel tank of the truck and gave it a kick. A hollow metallic thud echoed, confirming his suspicions. “Yep, this one is dry.”
“Well, you ain’t gonna get much out of this one, either. I got about one full can and not much else.” White screwed the cap on the Jerry can and hefted it into the back of the truck.
“Well let’s hope the other LMTV has some useable fuel. C’mon, mount up. We got about eight more miles of zombie-infested road to go.”
Rick picked up the bipod on his AR-10 and hefted the large rifle. The downside of the rifle was that it had no sling or any way to hold it across his back, so he carefully laid the rifle in the bed of the truck and had a seat. Kane sauntered over and laid his head down in Rick’s lap. The German shepherd had become used to the loud gunfire of Rick’s rifle and was no longer affected by the noise. Rick ruffled the dog’s head as Kane made himself comfortable in the lap of his master.
Joe stuffed his rifle into the truck, barrel down once again, and climbed in. Curtis did the same, as did Captain White and Boyd.
As Captain White got into the truck, he made sure not to place his feet near Boyd. He didn’t want to have to assert himself or prove anything to Joe and his people. His actions would speak for themselves when the occasion
There was a large contingent of zombies near the trucks, and even a few tangled in with the canvas tarp that covered the trucks. The road stretched out in front of them for a half-mile before turning to the left and continuing on its way towards Bluefield. The straight stretch that was in sight had over two dozen, if not more, zombies along it. The undead shambled along the route as if competing in the world’s slowest marathon. The rumble of the Ram’s diesel engine caught the ear of some of the closest ones, and they slowly shambled towards the sound.
Joe pulled the Ram alongside the LMTVs and rolled his window down. He grabbed his suppressed M4 from the seat beside him and took two well-placed shots at the entangled zombies, dropping each one with a single shot. He brought the M4 back inside the truck and opened his door as the rest of his men exited the vehicle as well.
“Alright, looks like we don’t have a hell of a lot of time to do this, so let’s make it quick. Rick, stay on top of the truck and thin out some of those assholes down the road. Curtis, you and Boyd watch our rear,” Joe ordered.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Stand here with my thumb up my ass?” Captain White said indignantly.
Joe reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out the Jerry cans and a length of garden hose that held the tanks together. He shoved the items into White’s chest and smiled. “Nope. You’re the gas station attendant for the day.” Joe tilted his head towards the LMTVs. “Get to it. I’ll cover you.”
White looked down at the Jerry cans and sighed deeply. He grabbed the cans and the hose and walked to the first LMTV’s fuel tank. Fuck it, he thought, beats being locked up.
While White lumbered over to the LMTV, Joe took point at the front of the truck, walking the perimeter of the wrecked LMTVs. The canvas tarps that covered them were torn and lying around the trucks. As Joe reached the rear of the trucks, Rick began firing long-range rounds at the random zombies down the road. The first shot made Joe jump, as he was not expecting it, but the subsequent shots had little effect on him. He pulled his own rifle up, keeping the butt of the M4 at his right shoulder. He kept the rifle at low ready, scanning around him for any unwanted guests. Looking off to his left, he saw a trail of fluids leading from the second truck.
“White, get as much as you can out of that one, looks like the other one here has leaked out.” Joe walked up to the side-mounted fuel tank of the truck and gave it a kick. A hollow metallic thud echoed, confirming his suspicions. “Yep, this one is dry.”
“Well, you ain’t gonna get much out of this one, either. I got about one full can and not much else.” White screwed the cap on the Jerry can and hefted it into the back of the truck.
“Well let’s hope the other LMTV has some useable fuel. C’mon, mount up. We got about eight more miles of zombie-infested road to go.”
Rick picked up the bipod on his AR-10 and hefted the large rifle. The downside of the rifle was that it had no sling or any way to hold it across his back, so he carefully laid the rifle in the bed of the truck and had a seat. Kane sauntered over and laid his head down in Rick’s lap. The German shepherd had become used to the loud gunfire of Rick’s rifle and was no longer affected by the noise. Rick ruffled the dog’s head as Kane made himself comfortable in the lap of his master.
Joe stuffed his rifle into the truck, barrel down once again, and climbed in. Curtis did the same, as did Captain White and Boyd.
As Captain White got into the truck, he made sure not to place his feet near Boyd. He didn’t want to have to assert himself or prove anything to Joe and his people. His actions would speak for themselves when the occasion
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