Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s Story #156 Shack & Ruth Help Empty a Wrecked Krankenwagen Final Part 4 #TEOTWAWKI #SHTF #WROL

Without conscious thought I put a round through Beer Gut’s head. Still loaded with 147 grain hollow point, subsonic ammo my pistol’s slight cough is nearly lost in Chuck’s screaming repeatedly, “Get the fucker off a’ me!”

The back of Beer Gut’s head explodes in a frothy spray of white bone bits, pink brains, black blood and clumps of hair. After Beer Gut’s brains spray all over the grass next to Chuck, it takes him a few moments to realize that Beer Gut is now truly dead. Chuck stands. I now aim my pistol pointedly at his forehead.

“Shack check Chuck. Make sure he is not bitten.”

Shack puts on a pair of blue surgical gloves. Ensuring that he does not block my shot, Shack carefully checks Chuck’s wrist. I can see the vivid red tooth marks on Chuck’s wrist from here. Carefully pulling up Chuck’s BDU sleeve, Shack gently squeezes and twists Chuck’s arm.

“There is no broken skin. Thankfully, human teeth are poorly suited for ripping through BDU material.” To Chuck Shack says, “You’re a lucky fucker. Three inches lower – he would have bitten your hand.”

Chuck, visibly shaken flops to the ground. We give him some space. I thankfully put my pistol away without having to shoot a friend. I kneel next to Beer Gut, noting that my shot hit a little low and to the left of what I would have liked. I point at Beer Gut’s corpse.

“He turned in less than an hour. That is the fastest I have ever seen a body reanimate. I wonder if this is a new strain of the KCAP virus or were these assholes already infected. This one also waited until someone got close enough before striking. It knew that someone would come for the gun. It made the decision to lie still until someone reached for the bait. That shows intelligence which I am not comfortable admitting a zombies might have.”

Shack walks over and kicks Leader none too gently. “This asshole is still out, but he breathes.”

Chuck stands and wipes off his pants.

“You cool,” Shack asks him. Chuck nods in response and turns towards me.

“Thank you, Ruth for your quick thinking. And thank you for being willing to shoot me if I was infected. I would hate to hurt those I love.”

I nod at Chuck; no more words are necessary. I point at Beer Gut’s corpse again.

“Shack your Rhodesian jungle load almost cut him in half. I am surprised that he had the ability to move at all.”

“Oh, that wasn’t my usual jungle load, Ruth honey. Nikola gave me a butt ton of boxes of explosive 12 gauge ammo. The Russians have a long history of using explosive ammo as far back as the Second World War. Randy and Sutton told me that the Russian snipers are all loaded with explosive sniper rifle ammo to be used for important shots were a kill is absolutely required.”

We leave Beer Gut’s corpse where it lies and get back to work. It will be dark soon and we do not wish to be outside camp in the dark.

We quickly strip the inside of the ambulance which is a true godsend. Several bottles of iodine are recovered which comes in handy. Body needs iodine but cannot make it. Seaweed is a good source of naturally occurring iodine.

Brenda has had the scroungers out on the beach collecting seaweed. There has not been a lot of seaweed to collect as Brenda and some of the other people who grew up in this area state that we are on the wrong side of the Puget Sound for good seaweed.

Mushrooms, the only vegetable source of vitamin D have been scarce of late. While there has been plenty of rain (too damn much rain for my tastes), the unusually colder weather has hampered some of the warmer-loving mushroom varieties.

We also compete with other foragers and not just humans either. There are several species that eat mushrooms. Vitamin D is seriously lacking in our diet, a malady Brenda tells me was quite common in this area pre-KCAP during the winter.

With the lack of sun, cooler weather, and increased precipitation, I imagine all of us are short of vitamin D. I did not see any vitamin tablets in the ambulance, but I was busy stuffing sterile med kits into a recovery sack.

The Kayak Point med center lacks an autoclave and the power to run one. All surgical tools are boiled, run through a flame or dipped in alcohol. Sterile dressings and medical tools are a blessing.

Before we leave, Chuck calls in our situation letting camp know that we are heading back in a few moments. Chuck’s conversation is interrupted by a frantic Doc. Doc has treated several cases of cholera and fears a pandemic in camp. I overhear that Brenda and some of the other folks search for a solution to the overflowing latrines problem.

On the radio with Doc, Chuck gets frantic directions searching for meds badly needed by the convoy and village members. Sending the first load of medical supplies back with half of the Scouts, Shack and I go with the second load.

We did not really have time to inventory all the medical supplies taken from the ambulance. We just dumped it all into various recovery bags throwing them into the vehicles before they became too heavy to carry.

Lastly, we dump the (surprisingly) still alive Leader face down in the back of the truck. One of the younger Scouts watches leader while riding back to camp. Roaring into camp just before dark, we unload the vehicles dumping the medical supplies on Doc. We also dump the still unconscious Leader (Shack punched him a few times in the broken leg to verify he was not faking it) on Doc as well.

Doc produces some long shackles from a cabinet. Doc chains Leader’s three good limbs to the gurney. Doc is not gentle with the unconscious man, either using his increased strength to wrangle the dead weight of the injured man. Doc does a cursory inspection of his new patient. “If he lives ’til the morning I’ll take that leg off. He may not survive the surgery. It may have been a kindness to shoot the man. Because a one-legged man is of no use in this new world.”

Shack and I explain our reasoning for bringing the injured man to Doc. Doc, fingers steepled under his scruffy, gray stubble-covered chin nods at us. “Yes if his blood type is O negative, I could certainly use it.” We leave Doc’s tent quickly afterwards.

After unloading the recovered gear Shack and I, wore out and hungry head for the mess hall. Entering the mess hall we note that it is full. Some of the people sitting in the mess hall I recognize as ones we had left back at the Adventist village. I notice there are groups of people quietly crying. What the fuck is going on?

One of the younger Scouts starts talking to Shack while we stand, stunned at the mess hall entrance.

Junior walks up to Shack and I. Interrupting Shack’s conversation with the Scout, Junior buts in. “Shack, someone is here to see you in the command tent. Sam said you’re to come immediately. Don’t stop to eat, put your gear away, or shit. Ruth, Sam said since you two’s joined at the hip, you might’sa well come too. ”