Zombie Rules | Book 8 | Who The Hell Is That? Achord, David (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📖

it. Jimbo turned the heat down and unzipped his as well but continued wearing it.

They approached the next security gate and stopped. Seeing that no zeds had breached, they opened the second gate, went through, and secured it behind them.

When Ringo got back in the truck, Bandy cleared his throat. “I don’t know about those Fitzgeralds.”

“How so?” Jimbo asked.

“My uncle was a sheriff in a rural county in Mississippi. There was this big clan of Irish Travelers who lived there, and he was constantly dealing with them. The Fitzgeralds remind me of them.”

“What are Irish Travelers?” Ringo asked.

“I don’t know a whole lot about them other than they’d travel from state to state pulling all kinds of scams. They never ripped off people in our county, but once they crossed the county line, anything was fair game. I went to school with a few of them; they were nice enough, but dad always told me not to trust them.”

“I have one question,” Ringo said. “How in the hell did a redneck from Mississippi end up in Pennsylvania?”

Jimbo guffawed. “Haven’t you heard the story? He was chasing a gal who had gotten a scholarship up here.”

“Yep, sure was,” Bandy said. “She dropped out after two months and went back home to momma, but I stayed. I’d gotten a good paying job at the refinery. I didn’t live at Hook back then. I lived about a mile from where we’re going today. There were plenty of co-eds running around, so I got over her pretty easily.”

“Did you like working at the refinery?” Ringo asked.

“Yeah, I did. I was looking at a big promotion when everything went to hell.” Bandy rubbed his beard. “I like Marcus Hook, but a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think about going back home. Everyone I know and love are probably dead but there have been many nights where I’m tossing and turning in bed and wondering what really happened to them.”

“I hear you,” Ringo said. “There’s not a day that doesn’t go by when I wish Johnny hadn’t been shot and we could’ve put the band back together.”

Jimbo stared at Ringo in confusion. “Who?”

Ringo explained. “The Beatles. John Lennon. Get it?”

Bandy howled in laughter. It took Jimbo a moment before he understood and laughed along with them. Ringo started to respond with a smartassed retort, but it was cut short when the front left tire went into a deep pothole that had been hidden by a layer of snow. A loud, sickening crunch wrenched its way through the interior. Ringo hit the brakes and they slid to a stop.

“Shit!” he exclaimed.

The three men got out and examined the damage. The driver’s side tire was pointed straight while the flattened passenger tire pointed several degrees to the right. Ringo squatted in front of the tire and after giving it an inspection muttered a few more invectives.

“How bad?” Jimbo asked.

“Bad enough. Flat tire and a broken strut. That’s what I can see. There may be more damage that I can’t see.”

“Can’t we change the tire and drive back with it like that?” Ringo asked.

Ringo slowly shook his head. “Look at the way the tire is pointed off in the opposite direction to the other one. If we tried to drive on it, we’d cause more damage and still wouldn’t make it back.”

Ringo’s eyes widened. “What, do we have to walk back?”

“Negative,” Jimbo said. “We have a contingency plan in place, remember? All we have to do is call it in and they’ll send someone to come get us.”

He got back in the truck and got on the radio. Riley answered within seconds. Jimbo advised her what happened, told her to send someone to pick them up, and gave their location.

Riley acknowledged and set the microphone down. Her first instinct was to find Johnny G. She switched channels and tried to raise him. She knew he had a portable radio with him, but also knew there were dead spots around the area, including inside most of the refinery area.

While they waited, the three men opted to stretch their legs and stood beside the truck, scanning the area. Everything was quiet. Ringo pointed and identified the group of buildings.

“That’s the University of Pennsylvania campus. This grid hasn’t been searched, am I right?”

“No, it hasn’t,” Jimbo said in agreement. “What’re you thinking?”

“Let’s run through a building or two while we’re waiting,” he suggested. “We’re not being productive just standing around with our thumbs up our butts.”

Jimbo peered at the first building. It was impressive. Brown brick, mostly rectangular with one section round, and around twelve stories high.

“May as well make use of our time. I’ll call it in,” Jimbo said.

Riley acknowledged. “I’m having trouble finding Johnny G,” she told him.

“Don’t worry about him. Find a vehicle large enough for all of us and come get us. There ain’t a zed in sight, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Roger that,” Riley replied.

Jimbo smiled again at the thought of her and Johnny G, although it made him wonder if he was ever going to find himself a woman. He’d been a confirmed bachelor, back before, but Ringo was right, having a significant other now seemed more important than ever. It wasn’t like he could go down to the local bar in downtown Philly and try to lure some cute drunken filly back to his place. He shirked off the thoughts and concentrated on the task at hand.

“Alright, we’re going to be off the air for about an hour or so. Tell whoever is coming to stand by at the truck and call us. We’ll be nearby.”

“Roger that,” Riley replied again.

Jimbo shut the truck door quietly and looked around. It was chilly and the sky was glum, which meant it was unlikely they’d have good lighting inside the building.

“Let’s do a double-check on the flashlights, men,” he directed. “It’s going to be dark in there.”

Each man had two flashlights, with Jimbo also having a headlamp. Ensuring they worked properly, the men walked down