Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel (5 page)

Roy didn’t respond and sat quietly, possibly thinking of a suitable answer.

Of all days, today I get stuck with this pussy
, Stephen thought.
I’m gonna need to go for a drink tonight after work
.

“
Hey!” Stephen said, snapping Roy out of his daydream. “If I go hands on again, you think maybe this time you could help me out instead of impersonating a statue?”

Stephen reached up to the control panel of the squad car and activated the emergency lights and siren with a snort of disgust.

“
I have a bad feeling,” Roy sheepishly replied. “Had this same gut ache right before my pet ferret died last month.”

Stephen hit the squad’s horn and yelled at some drunken bum who walked right in front of his push bumpers and stopped, not allowing him to pass.

“
Well shit, if you are not going to help, let me know now so I’m not expecting it!” Stephen bellowed at Roy. “I’m not asking for much. Just watch my back, and try not to cry like last time!”

* * * * * * * *

Pedro did not feel good, and he definitely should not have been driving. Not just because he had only been in the United States for a few days and did not have a valid license, but also because he felt like shit. He wanted to stay home in bed this morning, but his boss had an errand for him to run that needed to get done. And the boss was not someone you wanted to piss off. Pedro was tasked by his new employers to drive a car from Chicago out to Joliet. He did not know what was in the trunk, but he had a feeling if he got caught he would be in a lot of trouble. Now, to make matters worse, he was finding it more and more difficult to keep his car, an older Ford Taurus, between the lines on I-80. Pedro was going downhill fast. He was burning with fever, soaked with sweat, and his head was pounding. Feeling something wet on his lips, Pedro checked it with his hand and discovered that he had a bloody nose.

"
Ay dios mio
," Pedro said aloud before losing consciousness.

Driving down a crowded interstate was not the best time to pass out. Pedro's car veered to the right, cutting off a semi-truck that was in the lane next to him. The driver slammed his brakes and tried to avoid smashing into the Taurus, causing several vehicles following the semi to rear-end each other and lose control. Pedro finished his unconscious maneuver by passing in front of the semi and clipping a large SUV in its back quarter panel, sending it across the lanes of traffic. The SUV was hit broadside in the driver’s door and rolled over several times. Pedro then careened off the highway into the ditch before coming to a stop, landing on his roof. Several alert drivers saw the violent collisions occurring in their path and managed to stop in time. I-80 westbound at Joliet came to a standstill, in what would become one of the longest traffic jams of all time.

Firing up his pickup, Chris Jacobs heard the rumble of the black GMC 2500 crew cab’s diesel come alive. Putting the truck into reverse, Chris backed out of his driveway and began making his way into work at the police department for the 15:30 roll call. He had simply ignored several calls from the station, figuring they wanted him to start early. Still having to make adjustments of getting back into civilian life from his recent tour in Afghanistan, Chris noticed it was the little things that weirded him out. Things like toilets that flushed. Not having to burn human waste was a luxury that, after you had been forced to do it, you don’t take for granted.

And air conditioning is indeed truly a gift of the Gods!
he thought as the cool air blasted into his cab. August was always too hot.

Chris watched several people scurry across the street at an intersection and stared at them closely. Seeing people walking about unarmed was also somewhat alien to Chris.

Not having to wear heavy ass body armor and a helmet everywhere is fantastic
. Chris stretched out his neck, which always seemed sore now from the added weight.

He still found himself reaching for his M4 carbine, which for the past year and a half, had never been out of arm’s reach. This time Chris instead reached for his cell phone to see if Stephen had called off sick today from work. He hoped not because he wanted to know if the county sheriff ever got called back out to the property. Stephen’s only neighbor up north seemed to be the anti-gun type who had a stick up his ass over the fact that the new guy was a trigger happy gun nut from the “city”.

“
What an asshole,” he chuckled to himself as he neared the police station.

At the employee parking lot, Chris noticed a number of squad cars leaving the station with lights and sirens activated.

“
Wonder what’s going on?” he muttered to himself. “Probably just another random shot fired call.”

In Joliet’s low income residential area, this was a common, almost everyday occurrence. Especially on days like today, when it was hot.

Chris parked his truck in the lot and, after receiving no answer from Stephen, began the walk to the station as other coworkers began to arrive.

"Man, it’s crazy out there today, fights all over the place,” Officer Langston said while walking in holding his trademark cup of coffee.

“
You’re on afternoon overtime again, you whore?” Chris asked. “I didn’t have my radio turned on, what did I miss?”

Langston was a midnight officer but was always looking to soak up easy overtime.

“
Fights and more fights!” Langston replied. “A few guys are out on injury already. I heard Sherman is at the hospital now. Maybe I should have stayed home today.”

As they reached the doors, Langston paused. “I’ll see ya inside. I’m gonna finish this smoke,” he told Chris, who watched Langston fish a fresh cigarette from his shirt pocket.

“
You gotta quit smoking, old man,” Chris shot back as he walked away. “Those things will slow ya down.”

Entering the station, Chris headed over to the roll call room where the watch commander was to go over the crimes and arrests from the last two shifts and the assignments for the officers working. As he entered the room, Chris observed his immediate street supervisor walking his way. His supervisor, a fat, greasy looking man, the type who got off on telling others what to do, fast walked towards Chris as soon as he saw him.

“
Hey, Chris, we’re getting swamped with fight calls," he snapped. "I need you to hit the street right now and help out.”

“
Roger that, Sgt. Henderson," Chris answered. "Let me check out a squad, and I’ll hit the street.”

As one of the less senior officers, despite nearly five years on the street, Chris did not yet have a take home squad. Budget cutbacks and the bad economy placed the department on a seemingly permanent hiring freeze. But he was just glad his job was waiting for him when he returned home from Afghanistan.

After filling out the paperwork and getting the squad keys, Chris jogged out to the motor pool lot where the spare high mileage and abused squads were parked. Starting up the older Ford Crown Victoria, Chris accelerated up to where he had left his truck and began loading his police gear into the squad. One thing Chris had gained from the military was his love of high speed gear. A large duffel bag that contained all the forms he might need during his shift was placed on the front passenger seat and buckled in. It also contained binoculars and a tool kit. His report and ticket tins he tossed onto the front seat as well. First Aid kit and ballistic shield were tossed into the trunk, along with his police issued 870 Remington shotgun. His emergency go-bag, filled with extra shotgun slugs, 9mm pistol ammo, extra magazines, medical supplies, energy bars and water was also placed into the trunk. Slamming the trunk lid, Chris advised dispatch that he was clear for calls. Immediately Chris was rewarded with a ‘several car accident with injuries’ in the 600 block of Gardner.

“
Roger that. I’m en route,” Chris responded while activating the squad’s lights.

Before he had reached the accident site, dispatch advised Chris that several vehicles actually crashed through the guardrail of Interstate 80, which was elevated through that area, and landed onto the street below.

“
Well fuck me,” Chris said to himself. “This call is going to tie me up for hours.”

When Chris finally arrived, he had a bit of a flashback to a similar scene from his recent past, an IED attack on his convoy in Afghanistan. Damaged vehicles were strewn about, but at least this time he wouldn’t have to worry about sniper fire.

“
Wow!” Chris said aloud. “This looks bad, even worse than I guessed.”

There were at least seven or eight vehicles involved in the accident, each with varying types of damage, from simple fender benders up to flipped over and crushed. Joliet fire trucks and ambulances, as well as an Illinois State Trooper and a Will County Sheriff squad were already on scene when he pulled to a stop and blocked southbound traffic with his squad. There was already a very large crowd of gawkers doing their best to get in the way and take pictures with their cell phones. He took a bit of time to yell at civilians who were not staying out of the scene and chased them back a distance.

I might need crime scene tape for this mess
, Chris thought while pulling his notepad from his pocket and turning back to begin to write down vehicle types and license plates.

Looking at the path of destruction from the street, up the dirt embankment to the interstate, Chris saw a jackknifed semi-truck on the interstate, which he figured was probably the cause of this mess. Chris started to make his way past the roaring diesels of the fire engines and ambulances all while dodging out of the way of running paramedics who were checking the occupants for injuries. Some obviously were hurt badly enough that after the stretchers were loaded, the ambulance took off with sirens blaring. Completing his survey of the scene, Chris noticed some steam coming from a large clump of vegetation that was up the embankment several yards from the main accident. Upon investigating, he observed a vehicle that was obscured from view at street level. The vehicle, an older green Ford Taurus, was upside down. The damage was considerable, and the vehicle made ticking and pinging sounds as the engine cooled. The steam was made by a busted radiator that had a large piece of guardrail stuck through it. Ducking down and pulling away several small broken trees, Chris could see a male Hispanic driver was trapped between the seat, steering wheel and door.

“
Can you hear me? Are you hurt?” Chris called to the man.

The only response that Chris received was moaning from a man apparently in considerable pain. Due to the damage on the vehicle, Chris was unable to get the driver out on his own. Several attempts to open the door himself proved futile as he quickly broke a sweat trying to pull it open.

Exasperated, Chris began to shout for the paramedics, but no one could hear him in all the commotion. He eventually gave up and ran down to grab the lone fireman who didn’t seem too busy at the moment.

“
Hey, there’s a man stuck in a vehicle up on the side of the embankment!" Chris hollered, pointing up at the spot from which he’d just run.

The fireman trotted up to where Chris pointed and began to say something on his fire radio. A few seconds later, several additional firemen and paramedics descended on the vehicle with extricating tools and equipment. Within minutes, the sound of the saws and hydraulic metal cutters was deafening. Trying to get onto his police radio to advise dispatch of life threatening injuries, Chris backed away from the running fire trucks and saw a state trooper heading his way.

“
Hey there, Officer,” the trooper called to Chris. “Are you taking the report for this accident?”

Chris stopped in his tracks and looked at the trooper in confusion, then looked at the several vehicles involved. He then followed the path of destruction with his eyes all the way up to the twisted guardrail of the interstate where State Police had jurisdiction and where this clusterfuck had clearly begun.

Chris turned back to the trooper. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Starting to lose his cool as the trooper gave some lame ass excuse about having some disturbance calls in his district and that he needed to clear out, Chris threw his hands up in the air angrily.

“
Fine, whatever! We’re busy as hell too, you know!" he was yelling now. "At least get the drivers and vehicle information from the victim the fire department is working on.”

Not waiting for an answer, Chris stomped away from the lazy trooper, wanting to punch him out and wipe his ass with the trooper’s trademark hat.

Chris walked back to his squad, cursing every step of the way about the trooper trying to pawn this mess off on him. Reaching his squad, he took a minute to cool off mentally by taking a few drinks from his water bottle while standing next to his open car door. His mind was racing, and the more he thought about it, the madder he got. Then a light went off in his head, and he turned back towards the accident.

That’s it!
he thought
. I can’t take this report because it all started on the interstate. Where all the vehicles ended up is beside the point. And the highway is State Police jurisdiction.