Survive by Todd Sprague Page A

There are other people out there just like us making it. So will we.”
    Jack let out a sigh, “That’s really good to hear, man. I don’t know why the military isn’t kicking ass yet.”
    “Probably because they didn’t believe what was happening. We kept hearing back at the beginning how they were evacuating wounded to populated areas. Probably how it spread so fast.”
    “Fucking idiots!” Jack stared out over the little road leading off into the forest.
    “You got that right. Too worried about telling people what to do, how to live, what to think. When it finally came down to it, they just couldn’t accept that sometimes bad shit happens and you do what you have to do. Probably worried about offending the undead, or getting sued by some Zed lawyer.”
    They shared a quick laugh over that. “We’re having a little party tonight. My wife is putting it together, and she sure can cook. We want you folks to come over. It’ll be good for everyone.”
    Jack smiled. “Sounds good to me. We’ll be there.”
    They shook hands again, and Jack headed back home.
    * * *
     
    Around 6:30 p.m., John heard the roar of the tractor down at the barricade along with the honking of the big dump truck’s horn. He trotted down to the end of the driveway and arrived just as the large truck pulled in. The back of the truck was piled high with rolls of chain link and other things. Big bundles of fence were hanging from the sides and the back, and a flatbed trailer piled high with still more fencing attached to the back of the truck.
    Morgan jumped out of the driver’s side and ran around to the passenger side, opening the door. “Give me a hand,” he yelled to John.
    John’s heart sank.
    Truck jumped out, pulling Kurt gently down behind him. A bloody cloth was wrapped around Kurt’s upper left thigh. He reached the ground, Truck and Morgan carrying him over to the lawn and setting him down on the soft green grass. John eyed the wounded leg with a sinking feeling. He slid the MP5 off from his shoulder, leaving it pointed at the ground. Kurt looked up as he saw the weapon, his eyes widening.
    Morgan saw the look. “Whoa, John, hold up. It’s not a bite. He fell off the truck when we were loading it. It’s broken.”
    John sighed in relief and laid his weapon on the ground, leaning down to look at the wounded area. He peeled the wrapping away and grimaced. The bone had broken and a jagged piece of it had punctured the skin.
    “Alright, just sit tight, Kurt. My mom used to be a nurse. I’ll be right back.” He took off running towards his mother’s house. A few minutes later he led June back to the trio. She bent down and looked at him with a shrewd eye. Kurt eyed her skeptically.
    June nodded to John. “Get him inside. You come too. You’ll have to hold him down.”
    Kurt paled at the statement but said nothing. The slight graying at his temples seemed out of place on the middle aged man. Bet he’s going to get a few more gray hairs out of this , John thought to himself as they carried Kurt into Patrick’s house and laid him down on the guest bed he and Franny had been using. She arrived a few moments later, saw what had happened, and promptly smacked Kurt on the back of the head. Kurt grinned and shrugged.
    June ordered sheets, towels, sticks, and rope, along with whiskey. John smiled at his mother’s use of the unorthodox medicine despite her strict religion. She told Kurt to take a long swig of the drink, before pouring a generous splash onto the wound itself. June patted the wound dry and nodded to John and Truck, each standing on either side of the bed. She motioned for Truck to hold Kurt’s other leg down. When John and Morgan each had a good grip on Kurt, the elderly nurse pulled his leg straight down, drawing the jagged bone back into the leg.
    Kurt screamed for all he was worth and struggled violently. The men managed to hold him reasonably still as June pressed her fingers into his thigh, feeling the bone