Operation Z by Szepanski, G.D. (well read books .txt) 📗

The greasy looking red neck standing furthest from them spoke. Even if he didn’t look like it, he must be the brains of the group.

“Step out slowly. Nothin’ stupid. Cover ‘im, Rufus.”

The second man, Rufus, wore dirty overalls with a torn flannel shirt underneath. His high fashion sense included cutting the sleeves of the shirt, making it into his own wife beater. Jim knew there must be some symbolism there. Rufus’ long beard hadn’t been groomed or cleaned for months, and Jim wouldn’t be surprised if lice infested it. Beth had found a couple of real winners to hang out with.

Rufus approached Big Jim as he climbed out of the truck. He led the way with a beat-up bolt-action hunting rifle. Stopping short would have been smart, but neither of these guys were. Instead, Rufus jammed the barrel of the gun into Jim’s chest. This was the break Jim needed.

With one fluid move, Jim knocked the rifle barrel away from his chest with his right hand and drove his left through Rufus’ head. The man’s neck snapped at an odd angle and he dropped to the ground in a heap. Jim’s right hand continued around and pulled the 38 Special out from his belt. It looked like a cap gun in a tootler’s hand, but much more deadly. He squeezed off three shots at the redneck who had spoken, and two of three found their mark. Two down and still two rounds left in the gun.

The entire battle took seconds, and Beth hadn’t moved during it. Jim turned the gun on her.

“You have a choice to make now, and it’s an important one. Put the gun down or end up like your two friends.”

Beth’s eyes still roamed the battlefield, but the gun lay impotent at her side. When she finally focused on Jim, her eyes blinked rapidly while tears formed at the edges. She stared without saying a word.

“Slowly, open the door and climb out of the truck. Leave the pistol behind.”

For a moment, Beth just stared at Jim but didn’t move. She was a young girl who got mixed up with two losers. Jim hoped she would comply because shooting her would be so wrong. Beth finally reached for the door handle and climbed out of the truck. He grabbed the Glock off the seat and checked the load. The magazine held bullets, but there wasn’t a chambered round. He chambered a round and tucked the revolver back into his belt.

Before dealing with Beth, Jim checked on the two other men to make sure they were out of the fight. The blow Rufus took did him in. Jim scrambled his brains with the powerful punch. As he moved around the ratty old pickup truck, he saw the effects of his shooting. One round hit the man’s shoulder, and another drilled him through the forehead. Jim’s third shot had missed. Oh well, no one was perfect.

He turned back toward his stolen truck and didn’t see Beth. Before he called out, he scanned the area. Beth had taken the opportunity to run while Jim’s attention was elsewhere, but she didn’t get far. Her corpse lay on the ground in front of the trees, being ripped apart by three zombies.

“Shit!” Jim cursed out loud over the waste of another life. Everyone he met ended up cursed. There would be no helping Beth, so he climbed back into the truck and set off down the road.

A few hours later, the F150 ran low on gas and Jim came across an old gas station. Pay at the pump never came to this place, and Jim hadn’t seen gas pumps like these for years. The electricity remained on, but Jim knew he had to go inside to authorize the pump. A small convenience store sat on the property along with two garage stalls. It reeked of age but had been well kept.

Big Jim approached the front door and found it unlocked. He led with the 38 Special, remembering it only had two rounds left in it. A blood trail ran from in front of the cashier stand and down the center aisle of the store. The trail led to a corpse being devoured by two zombies. They must’ve ambushed a potential customer. Not great customer service. Neither zombie sensed his presence, and they kept devouring their victim’s insides. It was a gruesome sight, becoming more common with each passing day.

With their backs to him, Jim drilled the two monsters through the back of their heads with the last two rounds in his gun. Their gore joined their victim’s on the store’s floor. So much for the place being clean. As he turned back to the cashier’s stand, a third zombie bum rushed him. Jim could count to five, so he knew the gun held no more rounds. It did however work as an effective bludgeon and two quick blows to the head rendered the monster lifeless.

Jim dropped the gun on the floor since he had no more ammo for it and didn’t know where he’d find more. He walked around the back of the counter and authorized the pump he parked the truck in front of. Underneath the counter, Jim found a Mossberg shorty pump shotgun with a pistol grip and a box of shells. This lifestyle of looting didn’t make Jim proud, but he decided he needed to take advantage of anything he found while he could. There must be other survivors and times would get tough quick with no new supplies being delivered.

The truck, along with the five Jerry cans he found inside the store, were filled from the gas pump out front. He loaded five cases of water along with some of the healthier snack alternatives he found. Jim would be ok for weeks with the supplies he had on hand, but he still hoped to find other survivors to help. Even if his track record hadn’t been good at helping people so far. Someone had to live.

Jim made the border of