Doing Time

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Catshooter » Sun Apr 11, 2021 10:32 pm

Another year without an update. A real shame as good authors are hard to find. I hope you're doing ok Groucho.


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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Fri Apr 16, 2021 10:19 am

“I guess we should check it out” Trey said, with a sinking feeling that their situation was about to get complicated. The two men took their time stalking through the trees and brush blocking their view of the next house. Trey avoided walking on the fallen leaves where he could, which would become difficult as fall progressed. Crunching leaves could be heard some distance away. At first, he could only make out the upper story of house through the slowly thinning, fall, foliage. The repetitive sound of metal on metal, replaced the voice they had heard earlier.

Joker was closer to the source of the sounds and saw movement through the small gaps in the leaves. He eased through the tree limbs on the edge of a yard. A young girl, oblivious of the spectators, focused on her shoes, moving in short arcs on the swing set. The thief quickly checked his surroundings for threats, finding nothing. He did note that the grass was very green, even more so where the falling leaves lightly decorated it. Somebody had loved their yard. “Ugh” the little man thought, despising the suburban fascination with grass.

Joker studied the girl on the swing. She looked clean and well fed, although dressed in drab colored clothing. Except for the startling pink sneakers. “I like your shoes, they’re very pretty”. The youngster looked up with a shy smile. The smile changed to a serious look, “Please don’t tell Sam. I’m not supposed to be out by myself. Or wear my new shoes outside”.

Joker smiled, saying “Cross my heart and hope to turn green all over”. The response returned the shy smile to her face. “Why don’t you go tell Sam that you saw live people in the yard. We won’t mention that you were outside”.

“Em, get over here right now” a voice interrupted. The young woman in the doorway pulled back the hammers on her shotgun, the clicks carrying across the short distance.

“I think we’re in trouble Em” the thief used his most winning smile. “And you must be Sam”. Joker studied the new player in the drama. She was taller than him and obviously female despite the drab clothing and short haircut. The type of haircut sported by women soldiers in futuristic action movies. Em walked head down to the older woman, probably her sister the felon guessed.

“Are you Army”, Sam quizzed the trespasser?

“No” joker denied, “But it’s a long story. We’re trying to get home and stopped to look for gas. Food and a place to sleep too”.

“We” the older sister asked? Her eyes left the criminal, quickly swept the area, then returned to him.

“My name is Trey”, an invisible speaker said from the cover of the tree line. “We mean no harm, we heard a voice singing”.

“Stop hiding and come out where I can see you”.

“Not while you’re pointing that shotgun, you don’t need to put it down, just point it in a neutral direction”.

One mean look was all that was needed for Em to slip between her sister and the door jam. Although both hammers were in the firing position, the double barrels of the bird gun were pointed to a spot between the Thief and where Trey’s voice located him. With a minimum of noise, the ex-soldier emerged from wood lot with leaves falling about him.

“Where’s home”?

“Western PA”.

“Why are you here”.

“That’s a long story too” Joker answered.

“We’ll be leaving in the morning if you want to tag along” Trey added. “We have families out there, even a couple farms”. Having said his piece, the bank robber turned and walked away.

“We have a medical person too” the thief said over his shoulder, jogging to catch up with his friend.

The cellmates stopped by their truck. “Do you think they’ll come” Trey asked his partner?

“I don’t know. Things don’t seem so bad right here. Maybe they’ll get lucky”.

“Let’s check the house, maybe we’ll get lucky”. The thief knocked on the door while the bank robber stood guard. They waited on the porch for several minutes after the knock, before Joker began working on the cheap door lock. “Remember door to door salesmen” the older man asked while he manipulated the pins inside the mechanism. “That’s what I feel like knocking on doors”.

“No, I lived out in the country”.

“Those guys making a living pushing brushes, or encyclopedias, maybe vacuum cleaners”.

Trey listened to his friend take a trip down memory lane. His mother disliked salesmen, so any unfortunate who knocked on their door would have received a chilly reception. “About time” the thief growled when the lock clicked. The door still wouldn’t open until he put his shoulder against the wood and pushed. Once inside, the men went through their routine. Remaining motionless, they listened for the slightest sound. They inhaled through their noses, testing for the smell of rotten flesh. Joker stood in the opening that led to the living room, while Trey checked the doors in the kitchen. One was a pantry door, that didn’t look promising. The shelves held a lot of supplies, paper towels, napkins, bottles of dish soap, pot scrubbers, plastic bags, but not much food. They did take the batteries, matches and toilet paper.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Fri Apr 16, 2021 10:22 am

they had a place up in the hills” Trey said aloud. The first, floor bedroom was a man’s room, the The other door led to the basement. As usual, they set a chair under the lock, saving it for last. The cupboards were surprisingly bare. They looked like they had been stripped clean. “Maybe only sign of the fairer sex was a photo of a middle aged, couple on the dresser. The two, upstairs bedrooms were empty, except for decades old posters on the walls. The basement held little, except a dusty exercise bike and dusty wood shelves. Clean spots on the shelves showed where items had been removed recently. They left the building, closing the door without locking it.

The convicts drove the truck up the road at a walking pace. Trey waved at Sam and Em’s house in case they were watching. The men agreed that Sam had already checked many of the homes in the area for food, so they were looking a little farther away. The truck made a left turn to see where it went. They didn’t stop at the buildings on each side of the road just after the turn. The road wandered back and forth with nothing in sight, getting narrower. The only way out at that point would be to travel in reverse, so they continued.

The lane ended at the house of someone who valued their privacy. The answer to the unasked question about winter access, was provided in the form of a pick-up truck sitting in the driveway. The heavy-duty vehicle had dual wheels on the rear axle and a large plow attached to the front. “I’d like to take this thing back to West Point and do a little plowing” Joker said, inspecting the machine. “If only we had a gas tanker”.

The felons were distracted by the dead inside the house, attracted by the sound of the truck, they pounded on the windows of the first floor. The cell mates watched the dead above them to see if the glass would break. “A guy with a truck like this must have some good stuff inside” Trey suggested, walking toward the garage doors in the basement wall. Joker rolled his eyes and followed. “You would think, that if you spent that much money on a truck, you could spring for a really good lock as well”, the thief said working on the door lock.

“Are you ready” the shorter man asked, door handle in one hand and his fireplace poker in the other.

Trey stood a couple paces in front of the door, wrench in both hands, digging in with his feet like a major league batter. “Let her rip”.

Joker swung the door open, keeping behind it to avoid any zombie juice from the imminent bashing. The men waited, but nothing happened. After several minutes, Joker looked around the door. Trey had lowered his wrench, although he remained focused on the door. The inside was pitch black past the couple feet of daylight illuminating the cement floor. Joker tapped the door twice with his poker. “Knock, knock”. Trey shrugged his shoulders and began reaching for his flashlight when he heard a sound. The convicts guessed that it was goon shuffling in their direction.

The shuffling gradually grew closer, building suspense in the two criminals. Both men knew that waiting was the worse part. It gave the mind a chance to dredge up the worse possibilities. Activity always seemed like a blessing after a dreadful wait. The darkness of the garage seemed to solidify, producing a form approaching the open door. “That’s a big one” Joker didn’t realize that he had spoken aloud. He didn’t notice his friend nodding in agreement.

The reanimated human was a huge man. Reaching the open door, the frame was barely tall enough for the creature to exit. Trey figured that made him over six feet, six inches tall. The home owner was dressed in a filthy flannel shirt, whose buttons had given way against his bulk. His distended abdomen was a result of the body fluids collecting in the low points after death. The swollen gut ballooned over the thick leather belt holding up his jeans. It also was preventing the goon from exiting the garage. The dead man’s shoulders filled most of the door when he was alive, now the liquid filled abdomen was wider than the door way was. His arms were of no use, trapped behind his girth.

“How do we get him out” Joker asked?

“Poke a hole in him” Trey suggested.

“Gross”.

“He won’t pop like a balloon” the bank robber laughed. “I don’t think I can get a good swing at him, but maybe I can back him up. Then you scoot in and get one of big doors open, so we can see what we’re doing”.

“If we had our silencers, we could just shoot him” the thief baited his friend, who ignored the comment.

The taller man stood on the left side of the door for a right, handed swing at the goon. The first swing pulped the nose, the second split the skin between the eye brows and the third thudded against the skull. The towering goon staggered back two steps, allowing Joker to streak inside before it could react. The red handle that disconnected the door from the drive train, was right where it should have been. He pulled until he felt the click, rather than heard it, due to his partner dealing with the dead man. The door shot up because the thief had expected more resistance. Trey had been waltzing the goon around until the light flooded in, then delivered a hard blow to the temple that finished the house’s owner.

“I’ll never get used to this stink” the smaller man said, waving a hand back and forth as though it would help.

“I keep telling you to breathe through your mouth” his friend replied.

“That’s great advice, until I swallow a fly” Joker grimaced.

“So, wear a bandana and breathe through your mouth”.

The cell mates explored the workbench and tools at the back of the garage. They emptied a tool box on the floor with a loud clatter, then began choosing items they thought would be useful. They discussed checking upstairs, but with multiple dead up there for so long, they doubted it was worth the effort. The only place they hadn’t checked was the padlocked door opposite the work bench. Joker made short work of the lock, wielding a heavy hammer. Trey moved the flashlight’s beam from item to item on the metal shelves. “See, I told you good things happen when you lead the pure life”.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Fri Apr 16, 2021 10:32 am

rice to the truck. They added several cases of MRE’s and a case of canned bacon. Joker argued against taking all the ammunition stored in green, metal ammo cans, some in unusual calibers. Trey insisted, saying “Finding guns is easier than finding ammunition”.

Joker deposited theThe criminals carried sealed plastic buckets of dried vegetables, dried fruit, pasta, wheat and last of their loot in the bed of their truck and returned to the garage. He saw Trey, standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the door. “The guns have to be up there, and we only saw three goons at the windows”.

“We better hurry then, it’s getting late”.

They mounted the stairs, stepping next to the risers to lessen the chance of any squeaks. The men didn’t hear any sounds on the other side of the door. Trey figured that the movement by the truck and the sound of them loading it, kept the goons at the windows. He stepped back to give Joker room to work on the lock. Whether the infection started up stairs or down, the door had been used as a barrier against infected family members. The ex-soldier swore to himself that he’d never let family walk around like that.

“Old style Mortise lock” Joker whispered. “This house isn’t that old. It’s going to make some noise”. Joker tiptoed back down the stairs, returning with two screw drivers and a set of pliers. The difficulty was holding the screw drivers together with the pliers while turning them. The thief made several attempts before succeeding. As he predicted, the sound of metal rubbing metal under force had attracted attention.

Trey had watched the gap at the bottom of the door and noticed the shadow block the line of daylight that had been showing. He knelt until he could see through the gap. Standing, he motioned to the thief, holding a hand a little below belt height, indicating a small child on the other side of the wood. The round door handle was turned, and the felons swung the door forcing the miniature monster back. Joker stepped through and swung a screw driver with enough force to bury it in the top of the child’s skull. The small body was lowered to the floor.

The partners stood in a wide hallway, to the right it was dark, sunlight flooded in through large, floor to ceiling windows to the left. Their instincts were to confront the dead in the brighter room before stumbling with only a flashlight for illumination. Trey motioned Joker to stay at the edge of the hall, watching behind them. The three goons restlessly moved back and forth in front of their own windows. The portions of the glass where they made contact, were smeared with nasty body fluids. From the clothing they wore, Trey figured that they had been female, mother and daughters. He began swinging his wrench, the largest of the trio taking two swings before it quit wiggling.

He didn’t see any of the sought-after firearms in the room. His search was interrupted by Joker, calling out “Your left”. A pair of the dead approached from the kitchen off the living room. The elderly couple moved slower than most goons, constantly on the verge of tipping over. The male’s trousers were held up by suspenders, also supporting a fluid filled abdomen. The female had a cane with a four, point base hooked around her ankle. Trey tried to remember if they had seen any other family groups of the dead but came up blank. Destroying the last two goons had increased the filth in the room. Trey checked the kitchen, stepping from clean spot to clean spot, finding nothing. The closet in the living room was full of coats, all either too big or too small for the felons. “A little help” Joker called, followed by a loud thump.

Trey came around the corner as the small man cracked the second skull of a line of goons coming from the dark area. Joker stepped back saying “Your turn”.

“It’s not my turn, I already did six” Trey whined.

“Oooooh, so that’s how its going to be! Do have a seat and a beverage while you wait”.

Trey was still laughing when he stepped forward for his turn. “So much for only three goons being up here. Where are they coming from? Why are they in a line”?

“How about, I don’t know” Joker said. “There aren’t enough cars to account for all these bodies, they must be neighbors. If they had guns, you would think they’d easily accessible. For that matter, why lock up the empty storage locker”?

Trey rummaged through the kitchen until he found the cache of used plastic shopping bags. He checked them, discarding the ones with holes in them. “Why save bags with holes in them” he asked slipping a bag over each boot. The bank robber began picking his way over the bodies to the dark room at the end. Joker sat in an easy chair where he could watch his friend. “There ain’t no guns” he called at Trey’s retreating back. He watched the flashlight’s beam dart about the room. The beam was horizontal, low to the floor when Trey checked under the bed.

“There’s two more doors back here” his voice floated out of the dark. Grumbling, Joker pulled a pair of white bags over his footwear. Without a light, he ended up stepping on rotten limbs and bodies making his way down the darkened hall. “Nothing here” Trey said leaving the second bedroom.

“We’re wasting our time. There ain’t no guns” Joker insisted.

Trey paused by the final door. “A drumroll please”.

The smaller man, illuminated by the flashlight’s beam, crossed his arms over his chest, squinting into light. The curtains were open in what turned out to be the master bedroom. Trey checked the room and closets before turning to his friend, who watched from the doorway. “Guess what? There ain’t no guns. I did find this heavy ass flashlight though” he held out the four, cell type often used by the police.

“I don’t want that big thing, give me the other one”.

The men retraced their steps to the garage, the thief giving a laundry list of reasons that he knew there weren’t any weapons. Trey closed the garage doors, like they had found it. “Did you say something” he asked his partner?

“That’s not funny, man”.

They drove slowly back down the long driveway. At the end, Trey stopped looking at sun. “We have a little time, let’s look for gas”. Joker had also been watching the sun “Very little time”.

The felons drove away from Sam and Em’s house, checking the parked cars and peeping into garages. One work truck had a full tank, but it was diesel. The gas cans they already had were emptied into their own gas tank and they collected a few more cans. Most of the cars they checked were low on gas, however they managed to get enough raise the gas gauge needle to three quarters full. The syphon hose with the built in, squeeze pump came in very handy. “Let’s spend the night at the first house we checked, so the girls will know where to find us” Joker suggested.

The pair were sharing a family sized can of fruit cocktail for breakfast when they heard a knock on the door. “Who is it” Trey asked with a hand resting on the door knob. A child’s laughter responded from outside. He opened the door, gesturing for his guests to enter. Sam didn’t point her shotgun at the criminals, although had it ready just in case. “You need a blunt instrument” the ex-soldier advised Sam. “Do you want some fruit cocktail Em”?

“No thank you, we had breakfast” the child looked down shyly. Something told Trey that the shyness wouldn’t last long.

“Did you make up your mind” he asked the older sister? “If you’re not going, do you know where there’s an airport for private planes? Maybe a county airport”?

“You’re a pilot” Sam asked in surprise?

“We both fly” Joker inserted himself into the conversation from the kitchen door. “We learned last summer”.

“You both learned to fly after all this happened” Sam held her hands out indicating everything since the emergency began.

“Yeah, but that is a topic for another time. Are you coming with us or not” Joker asked bluntly?

“Tell me about the place we’d be going to”.

“It was a big old prison with high stone walls, between Pittsburg and Lake Erie” Trey held out hand to stop her question. “A bunch of the guards are still there, even a few convicts, although most of the people are civilians. We have families there. A couple of us moved out to farms. Joker and me, are the go-to guys when something is needed from the outside. How we ended here up is an even longer story”.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes” Joker added.

The felons retreated to the kitchen, filling white plastic shopping bags with the items they were taking on the trip. The men were going through the cupboards one last time to see if they missed anything, when Sam joined them. “Okay, we’ll go”.

“We’ll need another set of wheels” the thief said.

“Why can’t we ride with you” the young woman asked?

‘The truck won’t fit four and the bed is already full. We found some stuff yesterday” the thief said with a maniacal grin. “Once we get another set of wheels, you can both ride with one of us if you want”.

All four travelers fit in the cab, with Em sitting on her sister’s lap. “I don’t suppose you have a map” Trey said.

“We grew up here” Sam said. “We’re on the edge of town, but its one town turning into another along the river”.

“A state map would be nice, so everyone keep an eye out” Trey instructed, weary of playing blind man’s bluff with the dead. Joker backed out the drive onto Route 218, also Bay View Avenue, although the street sign was farther into town. They drove past streets on the left and right that Sam said she had already searched. Every one of the streets was a dead end. At Hudson Street Sam said from this point on it was unexplored territory. According to her, a right onto Hudson Street which led to Shore Road on the river, were trafficways with no housing along them. The thief turned left instead.

Joker turned the next left onto Mountain Road, driving west, along the backs of the homes on a parallel street. Sam slid behind the steering wheel, permitting Trey and Joker to peer into garages. It occurred to Trey that every garage door had windows, which were a great help to thieves before the dead returned to life. It was a time saver for the travelers. Some of the garages were empty, some held a single car and those were too new or too small. The newer vehicles were over dependent on electronics according to the thief, the smaller ones were subject to manhandling by the goons according to the bank robber.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Fri Apr 16, 2021 10:33 am

The flesh eaters made an appearance not long after the search began. Lone forms staggered in the criminal’s direct from between the homes across the street. The cell mates were moving fast enough that these dead were not a threat. Sam moved the truck forward each time she saw the felons cross the grass between the houses, however she could also see the goons. None of the eleven houses in the row held what they needed. “There’s too many goons showing up to keep going here” Joker said looking at the dead, some that were now close enough to be dealt with.

“Show Sam the ropes before she freaks. Wait out of sight, I’ll take this bunch for a walk and ditch them” Trey laid out the plan. Joker used his poker to bash the nearest ghoul, then darted away between the dwellings. He jogged across the lawn, jumped across the ditch and slid into the truck. “What happened to him” Sam asked, wide eyed in a panicked voice.

“Calm down, he’s fine. Trey will lead the dead away, then meet us down the road. Let’s go, nice and easy”. Sam took a couple deep breaths then drifted the truck forward. “How you doing kiddo” the thief asked EM?

“I was scared”.

“It’s ok to be a little bit scared” Joker said, knowing the older sister would get the message.

Trey used his wrench to shove the cannibals back, until he had four together. The other goons
gravitated toward where the multiple bodies stood. The bank robber walked away just out of reach of the hands reaching for him. He led them across Washington Street and then Payson Road, making his break just before the next row of houses. The leader sprinted away from the group passing between two wood frame houses. A glance right showed an empty street, so he swung left slowing while crossing the concrete driveway, picking up speed past a red brick house.

Judging that time was up, Trey slid to a stop around the far corner of a two-story home painted a ghastly purple. Slipping in the tall grass he fell. Scrambling on his hands and knees he looked around the corner. The first goon came into sight, crowded from behind as it slowed. The group milled a little, then continued in the direction they had been traveling when they lost sight of their prey. Trey went to the rear corner where he had a view of the slow pokes. It was twenty minutes before the coast was clear.

He skirted the building, staying away from the corners and moving north. He crossed the road quickly, peeking into garages along the way. Trey moved on across an overgrown stretch of lawn to reach the homes on Lappanni Road that dead ended at a park on his right. The buildings here were fewer and farther apart. Again, he found no suitable vehicles. Ahead was a forest, so he swung back onto the mountain road. Now the trees grew thickly on both sides of the road. He expected to find Joker just around the bend, but the road was empty. It was times like this that he missed the radios they usually carried.

More leaves had fallen, giving him a view of buildings set back from the road. A place on the left intrigued him, so the ex-soldier cut through the belt of trees. The cleared ground to the side of the property, held not only a tennis court, but also a swimming pool. At least a dozen of the dead were corralled inside the chain link fence surrounding the tennis court. The cannibals gather at the fence, pushing gently on the barrier. All had either missing limbs or horrendous wounds made by teeth. The swimming pool also contained a few goons. These specimens were in better physical shape, although they were sloshing around in a half foot of filthy water.

Trey backtracked to the two story, house. There was no movement at the windows and other than a suicide, there was nothing notable. He could see a man on the couch through the dirty window, with a rifle under his chin. Brains and chunks of bone decorated the wall behind the corpse. He had to wonder how many bathrooms he passed held people without guns who had slit their own wrists. The garage door had no windows and he was surprised the door raised when he bent and tugged at the handle. He dropped to the sealed asphalt drive, looking through the gap to see if any of the nasties were waiting for him.

Leaves driven by the light breeze, skipped past him and under the door. From the prone position, Trey could see all the floor except behind the vehicle tires. Once the door was raised, he saw another car too small for their purpose. An empty bay separated it from the Dodge truck. Tools lined the walls on pegboard hangars, except where the workbench sat. “Now this is a garage” he said aloud. The bank robber rocked the truck on its tight suspension, judging that the fuel tank was full. A metal, fifty-gallon, drum against the wall was almost full. “Now to find Joker” he said thoughtfully.

Trey sat leaning back against the mailbox post, waiting for his friend to show up. Even though the crunch of leaves would alert him to danger, he still swiveled his head every few moments. A half hour later, he stood debating which direction to begin walking in, when the white truck appeared from an unexpected direction. The thief drove the section of road Trey had already passed to wait for him. The short man, the sole occupant of the vehicle, coasted to a stop. “Need a ride buddy”.

Trey raised his eyebrows in question “Well, you have enough room”.

“They got scared, lots of tears. They wanted to go home. I left them a map, which I doubt they’ll survive to use”.

“On to new business” the younger man said. “I found a truck, we should have two”. After a few minutes of effort, Joker had the new truck open. They checked the fluids, belts and connections.Trey got his friend to open the door to the house, so he could look for the keys. He didn’t mention that He wanted to look at the rifle he’d seen. Crowbar in hand he entered the kitchen, standing still to smell and listen. A key box was mounted on the wall of the pantry, easily forced with the metal bar. A key, labeled “Ram” was what he sought.

In the living room Trey approached the dead body. The peculiar smell of a body, devoid of moisture from the dry heat over the summer, had a slightly sweetish odor. The glazed over eyes were rolled back as though wondering what happened to the top of its head. The rifle was marred by rusty fingerprintswhere moisture collected from its last use, but otherwise in good shape. He ejected the spent round inthe chamber, replacing it from the spilled box of cartridges on the couch. The high-end weapon, as well as the expensive German scope represented a considerable cash outlay by the owner. A further search found only a few accessories for the rifle.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with a wrench for dealing with the dead. However, Trey felt a great deal of satisfaction carrying the rifle into the garage. "It's too late to leave today" he said looking over Joker's shoulder at the engine.

"Yeah" the thief bit off the word.

When the mechanial genius let the conversation falter, Trey spoke again. "We could hang around tomorrow too. She's just a little girl".

"Yeah, well, her sister might use that shotgun if we show up".

"We just hang here. If they change their minds, they'll check here".

"I'm not sharing a house with a dead guy. Let's find a clean house" Joker said resigned to his friend's tendendcy to white knight for the underdog, One of the homes Trey had missed taking his shortcut proved to be suitable. It was within sight of the suicide's home and other than signs of a hurried departure, it was clean. There were a few cans of food in the pantry and a wood burning fireplace in the livingroom. The last bit of daylight was spent calculating how many tanks of gas and how many meals they were from home.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

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Re: Doing Time

Post by Groucho » Fri Apr 16, 2021 10:34 am

The next day was spent taking turns prowling among the nearby homes that they hadn't checked yet. Rather than necessities, their finds were helpful items such as batteries, matches, soap, rope, rain gear, etc. The sisters never showed up, but a slow and steady rain began after dark. For the first time, shadowy figures of the dead were trudging past their hideout, probably attracted by the activity.

At dawn, after a quiet meal from opened cans, Joker spread his hands, palm up. Trey answered with a knife hand making a chopping motion toward the north. First the pair had to back track toward the river until they reached 218 again. This route took them past schools, the post office, half a dozen restaurants, a church and finally the New York Military Academy before arriving at 9W. "I didn't know New York had an Academy" Trey mentioned amazed.
The pair zigzaged around the mobile dead, actual bodies in the roadway and abandoned vehicles. Occassionally the road and sidewalk weren't enough, so they took to parking lots and lawns.

The ramp onto 9W north passed by the Coyote Ugly Saloon causing a pang of regret in Joker's mind over missing a probable good time. With minimal dead and few stopped cars the worst situation they had to look out for were drifting dead leaves. Leaves piled up in drifts usually prevented by the wake of passing cars. Even at slow speeds the beds of the trucks would slew back and forth on the slick road covering when it deepened.

9W was rarely out of sight of the Hudson River, changing from barely visable to right next to the waterway. The river itself was constantly widening and narrowing the farther north the convicts traveled. The highway signs began giving instructions for travelers whose destination was Pougheepsie to the east. Trey stopped when the bridge was in sight, the first one crossing the river since they had been following it. The soldier stood in the trucks bed, scaning the bridge with his rifle's scope. "It's clear" Joker blurted out after taking his turn.

"I thought it would be packed too" his friend added.

Still driving north, 9W would be in open country, then passing through a housing development, then one of the many industrial or commercial areas. Finally as far north as commuters lived, 9W changed from four lanes to two. Not long after that, the trucks stopped to refuel. The river was still on their right, with Back creek guarding their left flank. Across the creek was a huge cemetary, covered with bodies, stacked as deep as dump trucks would allow the pair guessed. The smell was bad and they could only image how terrible it was in heat of late summer.

North of Kingston, I-87, which ran parralell to 9W except out of sight, had swung to the east. Joker sat looking through the rifle scope at the movment on the interstate. "Now we know where the goons are at".

"I hope they stay there too" Trey spoke up. "We have to go west sooner or later. Why go north to hit 90? We could just go cross country at this point"?

"We'll need supplies and we aren't finding any out here" Joker agreed reluctantly.

North of Kingston, just past a big box store that thousands of goons were mobbing, the cellmates hopped on 209 west, passed over the crowd of the dead on I-87, and took the immediate exit. Both trucks were the worse for wear by the time they cleared the exit. The exteriors were coated with dark substance the skin appeared to generate and the fenders and bodies were well dented.

Both trucks turned north on Sawkill Road, the occupants sighing with relief when the road swung west toward the edge of the wooded hills. A group of goon trudged in the wake of the criminals, but it couldn't be helped. Trey felt relief at being back in his element, while Joker regreted leaving the towns and cities. Their pace slowed with the loss of visiability. The road narrowed and the drivers took their time edging past stalled and wrecked vehicles.

The pair took the time to check for fuelin the cars and trucks they found. Most had the gas caps swinging in the breeze on their plastic tethers. A tangle of vehicles occupied the entire road around a curve. Ruts through the ditch and past the wreck showed where other drivers had bypassed the carnage. Several dead were trapped inside whatever they had been driving. More bodies just lay rotting behind the glass. Joker proudly announced "Hey, I found some gas" which seemed to be the magic words summoning free range dead out of the trees.

Trey found a place to make a stand while Joker worked. He was far enough away from his friend that the dead should concentrate on the younger man, but close enough to provide defense if they went after the older man instead. A tree trunk with branches still attached guarded both his sides and the ground was muddy and uneven. Tapping the tree trunk with his wrench as enough to attact the dead. The bodies piled up in front of the bank robber until he had to move forward to maintain contact.

The flow of the goons turned into a trickle, much like the flow of gas. The thief used a hose to syphon when he could, but resorted to other means also. A hammer and screw driver was useful to punch hose in a gas tank. More than a little fuel was wasted when the smaller containers needed to be emptied. Both trucks made it past the roadblock, slipping and sliding in the black mud and on the slick tree limbs.

The road passed between the Kinston reservoirs, then reached an intersection where Sawkill was replaced by Zena Road. The road went right then slowly bent to the left, the right bank dropping away sharply to a stream. Trey hit the brakes suprised to see a small dump truck also braking in the middle of the road. The bank robber was giving a friendly wave out the window when the first bullet burst through the windshield smashing the rear view mirror.

Joker saw the brake lights but didn't see why. The gunshot caused him to pop the transmission into reverse and hit the gas. The truck skittered sideways putting the right rear tire over the edge and pulling the rest behind it. The thief went down the shallower part of the slope backwards into the creek accompanied by some strong language. Trey threw the door open, snatching up his wrench. The rifle slid along the seat to rest against the passenger door, where it was abandoned.

Wrench in hand the bank robber went around the rear of the truck and down the slope out of sight of the shooter. Sliding and leaping, he used the wrench behind him to help maintain his balance. Reaching the water, he tripped on a log getting wet to his knees, and up to his waist in the creek before climbing the far bank, issuing some harsh words of his own.
Three men and a woman trapped in a building, send help. If you can't send help send two more women. Groucho Marx-Duck Soup

USAF SP, US Army reserves

Sheriff McClelland
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Posts: 598
Joined: Fri Sep 16, 2011 5:19 pm

Re: Doing Time

Post by Sheriff McClelland » Fri Apr 16, 2021 10:54 am

:awesome:

Holy cow ! I know what I'm doing tonight . Thank you Groucho !! :clap:
"Yeah, they're dead. They're all messed up. "

Nature_Lover
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Posts: 81
Joined: Sun Apr 22, 2012 4:41 pm

Re: Doing Time

Post by Nature_Lover » Fri Apr 16, 2021 5:42 pm

Thank you Groucho!
Doing time, one adventure after another, year after year.
I'm so glad that you continued your saga. :D

Catshooter
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Posts: 61
Joined: Thu Sep 24, 2009 11:05 pm

Re: Doing Time

Post by Catshooter » Fri Apr 16, 2021 7:07 pm

Yikes! Whine and you shall receive! Thanks man.


Cat

2T2-Crash
Posts: 23
Joined: Tue Mar 08, 2016 10:57 am

Re: Doing Time

Post by 2T2-Crash » Mon Apr 19, 2021 2:34 am

I love this story, so happy to see a few more chapters. :clap:

User avatar
Halfapint
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Favorite Zombie Movies: all?
Location: Central Cascadia

Re: Doing Time

Post by Halfapint » Mon Apr 26, 2021 1:01 pm

Oh man! I can’t believe I didn’t get the notification for this. I have been gone about a year and I’m glad updates were posted! Thanks Groucho!
JeeperCreeper wrote:I like huge dicks, Halfapint, so you are OK in my book.... hahaha
Spazzy wrote:Tell ya what... If Zombies attack and the world ends I'll hook tandem toddlers to a plow if it means I'll be able to eat...

Johan
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Posts: 167
Joined: Thu Sep 18, 2008 2:48 am
Location: Sweden

Re: Doing Time

Post by Johan » Sat May 01, 2021 1:35 am

:shock: Thank you Catshooter for "Reanimating" Groucho!!! :D

This is one of my absolute favourite story's here on ZS..
And of course MANY thanks to Groucho for keeping writing this for us!!! :clap: :clap: :clap:

Can we please have some MOOAAAR????
Firepower...
-Is One Bullet that Hits!

RoneKiln
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Posts: 1145
Joined: Sun Jun 07, 2009 3:20 am

Re: Doing Time

Post by RoneKiln » Thu May 06, 2021 11:28 pm

Woohoo! I had given this up for dead! :mrgreen:

Now I gotta go back and start it over.
"Seriously the most dangerous thing you are likely to do is to put salt on a Big Mac right before you eat it and to climb into your car."
--Raptor

RoneKiln
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Posts: 1145
Joined: Sun Jun 07, 2009 3:20 am

Re: Doing Time

Post by RoneKiln » Thu May 06, 2021 11:40 pm

Catshooter wrote:
Fri Apr 16, 2021 7:07 pm
Yikes! Whine and you shall receive! Thanks man.


Cat
Quick! Use your magic on the other writers too!
"Seriously the most dangerous thing you are likely to do is to put salt on a Big Mac right before you eat it and to climb into your car."
--Raptor

Texican2
Posts: 10
Joined: Sat Mar 11, 2017 10:46 pm

Re: Doing Time

Post by Texican2 » Sat May 08, 2021 10:06 pm

Groucho,

A great story and writing.

The only critique is being up to the wee hours of the morning reading until the words ran together.

Thanks,

Texican....

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