Can't Have Shit in Kentucky (Project Zomboid) ch.7 (Patreon)

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"Roy," the bus driver said. 

"What?" Jackie looked up, confused. Roy nodded at her as he glanced at the front-view mirror, cap shading his eyes underneath the visor. 

"Roy Johnson," he introduced himself. "We went through this shit. Might as well know each other's names." 

That was fair, Jackie thought. And it was only polite of her to call him by his name instead of driver or mister driver. "Jackelyn Wrynn," she also introduced herself. She was still shivering as she spoke, the weight of what had happened fresh on her mind. 

"Alright, Miss Jackelyn. Strap yourself up. We are heading to Louisville," Roy announced, the bus's engines like the roar of a lion as it sped along the empty highway. 

"Just...Just call me Jackie," the redhead insisted, lifting up her feet and hugging them close. She need to touch someone, anyone, for comfort. She just saw a man getting murdered, his flesh torn, and his blood spilling on the floor and on her. She had done her best to wipe away the blood and the grime but it was still there. Her skin and clothes smelt like copper and iron, pungent in its scent. She didn't need to be a fancy doctor to realize that smelling that much blood wasn't particularly healthy. 

She needed to change and a shower, as well as hot chocolate and a hug. 

"Jackie it is," Roy nodded, his voice soft. He could see that the young woman was conflicted and traumatized. Who wouldn't after seeing something like that. He sighed, leaning back against his seat. 

"Don't think too much on it, Jackie," Roy said, his eyes pressed firmly against the road. "It'll just end up clouding your for the rest of your days." 

"I just saw a man get his neck bit and his attacker's brains splattered on the front, Mister," Jackie bit back harshly. "I'm sorry if I look out of it!" Jackie wasn't this irritable usually. But considering what she saw, she felt she wasn't wrong in being harsh. 

"Believe me, it will get easier to deal with." Roy affirmed, experience and surety in his voice. "One day, you are going to wake up, eat your breakfast, watch the Simpsons on the television and spend the rest of the day living life. Only when you go to sleep you realize you haven't even thought about the sins you had done." 

"And how do you know?" Jackie asked bitterly, her face buried on her thighs. 

"Vietnam," Roy said simply. Jackie looked up and saw the haunted look on his face. Hearing that word, she immediately understood him, why he was so quick to adapt, so confident in his aura. 

She looked away, at the far off fields in the distance. "I'm sorry." she muttered under her breath. 

"Nah, don't worry about it," Roy assured her. "What's important now is we get the hell out of dodge. Those infected folk, zombies or whatever, there's going to be lots of them back at Riverside. Our best bet is Louisville." 

"If this entire thing is happening all over, what makes you think Louisville is safer?" Jackie asked, curious. "There's hundreds of thousands of people there." Jackie could scarcely imagine a whole city of the undead looking like that. 

"Well..." Roy tapped the wheel of the bus. "I did take a couple trips to the city and most folk there was fine. And where else are we going to go? I ain't going to go and bring this bus back to where we came. Them biters will tear us to pieces." 

Jackie briefly imagined that, the teeth tearing at her flesh, her screams being drowned out by the snarling of the dead. She hated that imagination and her mind for making her imagine it in the first place. 

"But where are we going to pass? There's only a few ways into Louisville and the bridges there are all right by big towns. We'll be passing through...through..." she bit her tongue, letting her implication hang in the air. Kentucky's east and west were connected by a series of bridges, the Ohio river separating both sides with connected waterways. 

This Roy also knew. He had driven through the state for as long as he remembered. "We'll think of something," Roy muttered. He glanced at his radio. He could call his operator and ask for instructions on how to proceed but he figured that they would just be re-directed back to Riverside or some other town. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try. 

He took a breath as he took the walkie-talkie, clicked on it, then spoke. "Operator, Operator. This is B24. Do you read?" 

There was a slight crack until the radio sprang to life. "B24, you were ordered to return to the Riverside Garage. Return shortly, over."

"Operators, with all due respect, fuck that," Roy said flatly. "I was nearly mauled to death by a zombie and the bus I have has a new coat of paint. We can't go back, over." 

The radio crackled with silence. Roy feared for a moment that he was going to be laughed at but instead, the operator spoke calmly. "B24, what is your current location?" 

Roy glanced out of his window. "Just east of Ekron, over. We need a route directly into Louisville." 

The operator replied immediately. "Be advised, the Army and local police departments have established checkpoints on the major roads. We are already getting reports of our drivers being turned back. Your best bet now is West Point, B24." 

"If we haul ass, can we go pass over the army?" Roy asked seriously. 

"Our buses are reporting heavy military activity on the roads leading to Rosewood, Riverside, Ekron, and the other towns West. If you can haul quick and use the smaller roads, perhaps you will." the operator reported. "If you can't, West Point is your best bet." 

"Alright. I'll take your word for it," Roy inwardly sighed with relief. "Thanks, Operator." 

"Just get the bus back to the garages, B24. Operator out." 

At that, Roy clicked his radio off. He took in another breath. "Well, Louisville is still safe, considering the Operator's still talking with me." 

"I heard," Jackie said, sitting up on her seat now. Her face fell. "God, all of the West of Kentucky?" She could imagine it now, Riverside burning from the ground up as cannibalistic monsters tear through people. Her friends there, dead or dying. That 'drunk' man wandering on the street on the bus stop. If she was a little late...she would be dead now or worse. 

She then had a thought. 

"It was the damn air," she swore. "Weeks before, the fouling air made everyone sick." That had made so many shown the symptoms the radio had warned them to watch out for. 

"The foul air, right?" Roy said. "It made other drivers and people I knew sick too." 

"Except you or me," Jackie pointed out. The Kettleman's were sick. Stephanie also became sick but much much later. "But if the air could have turned them into...you know, why aren't we sick too?" 

"Call it a funny feeling but I reckon we could be immune or some such," Roy theorized. "I ain't a hotshot college scholar but if we breathed in that muck for weeks and haven't, y'now, turned into a Romero creature then we're probably safe or something." 

Jackie didn't know if she was meant to feel good about that fact or terrible. "I...I don't know about that." 

"If it smells like shit, looks like shit, then it's probably shit," Roy drawled in his folksy accent. "Unless I am told otherwise or shown otherwise, we're probably safe from the muck. I...I am not going to go test out what happens if I get bit though." 

Neither was Jackie. 

And so, the bus continued on in silence. Their part of Kentucky continued to look relatively peaceful, like the hell of the west didn't exist at all. But as they continue on, the signs of it happening became apparent. Cars had stopped by the side of the road, its inhabitants slumped in their seats or wandering around their cars. Roy had the good sense to speed up a bit as to outrun the bitten, his revolver placed nearby just in case. 

"Son of a bitch," Roy cursed.

Jackie glanced over his shoulder to see what he was cursing about. Her heart sank to her stomach as she saw what. In the distance was a long line of cars, each one of whom were noisily beeping at each other. In the far distance, an army checkpoint had been established. Flanked by thick forests, tall concrete barriers had been established with a high metal tower erected in the distance. As the bus drew closer, Jackie spied the soldiers manning their posts, each one of whom were clad in their olive-green gear with the menacing looking gasmasks all either standing behind smaller wire barriers or checking on people in their cars. Judging by how the drivers of the cars were constantly beeping their vehicles, the progress was slow. 

It wasn't just cars though. 

People with their families, by their lonesome, were all flanking the road. Some carried bags, others looked like they had ran for their lives. Only a few things were common about the refugees. The miserable looks on their faces as well as the weapons they all carried. Hunting rifles, shotguns, pistols and revolvers. Jackie could even spy a few people carrying some World War 2 looking weapons, some dressed for the occasion even. 

Jackie knew another thing too. That scared people would do drastic things if it meant they would be alright. As the bus got into a halt, Jackie saw the one thing that probably kept them all in line. The heavy machine guns on the tower and the sole tank that stood behind a concrete barrier, its thin cannon pointing menacingly at the crowd. 

"God, how the hell are we going to go break through this?" Jackie whispered. "And all these people..."

"We can get through by patience," Roy muttered. "And as for the others...I ain't letting them inside here, no way, no how." 

"But...they're people? They need to get out too and we got plenty o' room," Jackie pointed out. 

"And are ya really gonna trust random folk? They could be bitten," Roy pointed out.

Jackie slumped back on her chair, mulling over the cold logic of Roy. As she did, the bus joined the throng of refugees and cars. Anxiety filled Jackie, sitting around and waiting like this. Her leg bounced, the frustration of waiting unbearable. They had to get the fuck out of dodge before they did. There was some hope however.

"Looks like they are letting cars and people in," Roy observed with relief as the convoy of trapped vehicles were moving along. Jackie had to be thankful for small mercies and a part of her swelled with hope that perhaps they would be alright after all. Eventually, the bus drew closer and Jackie saw the process. 

The car in front of them, or rather, a truck, was halted. A pair of soldiers approached the vehicle and bid the driver to exit. The driver did so, a young man with a baseball cap and light-yellow shirt. Another soldier in a fully white chemical suit stepped forward, glancing at him from top to bottom. He was made to lift his hands above his head as he was tapped down. That seemed to satisfy the suited man who bid him to go ahead. The young man thanked the soldiers to the stars and eagerly returned to his truck. 

Only, it didn't start. 

Try as the young man did, it simply refused to start. 

Roy opened his driver's seat window and yelled out. "What's the holdup, future boy!?" 

"The engine! It ain't running!" the young man cried out, slapping and kicking the front of his truck. One of the soldiers, shaking his head, leant in and tapped the young man's shoulder. Jackie could catch some bits and pieces of an argument before finally, the young man seemed to relent. More soldiers joined them and swinging their rifles on their backs, they pushed the truck ahead to the side, to the chagrin of its driver who quickly got out of his vehicle and opened its trunk. 

The bus shuddered as it moved forward, halting as the soldiers turned their attention to them. Roy leant forward and pressed the doors to open. Not a second later, two men walked up. They glanced at the floor, noting the blood apparent there before turning their attention to Roy and Jackie. 

"Driver," the first soldier spoke, his voice muffled by his mask. "Where did this bus come from?" 

"Riverside. We escaped just as them Romero creatures started raising hell," Roy answered honestly, his hands on the wheel. 

"And the blood?" the same man asked, gesturing to the bloody mess. 

"We dealt with one. Another fella got bit while we escaped. I...kicked him out," Roy admitted, downcast and crest-fallen. The soldier made no sound, other than a nod. 

"It was for the best," he said grimly. "Alright, I need you two to stand up. Sir, ma'm," he gestured to the two of them. "Understand that this is standard procedure for everyone. Everyone gets checked for bites or other signs of infection. Step outside, please." 

"Alright," Roy said flatly as he undid his seatbelt. "But that girl and I, we are fine. Otherwise, we'd have succumbed to the murky air weeks ago. Come on, Jackie." 

At that, she slowly stood up hesitantly. A nod from Roy encouraged her enough to head down, careful not to step over the blood now drying there. The check-up was swift. The white-suited chemical man having them lift up their arms and turn around on where they stood. Thankfully, the chemical man gave a thumbs up and bid them to go. 

But the first soldier before stopped them. Worry panged in her heart. What was it now, she inwardly shivered, as the first soldier held up Roy. "Keep on heading up and use the main road. Unauthorized vehicles using backroads will be stopped, questioned, and turned back. Do not stray off the main road," the soldier advised him. 

"Understood," Roy nodded, inwardly cursing his luck. He had known a few short-cuts that would avoid traffic all-together. 

"Oh and while you're here, you mind taking refugees with you?" the soldier asked, gesturing to the long line of people all unsubtly staring at the empty bus and its space. 

Roy glanced at her, then at the line of people looking at him. "We're only going as far as West Point. I'm ordered to stow my bus there." Roy lied. The soldier shrugged. "Good enough. We'd have busses and trucks to get them out but our guys are here to watch the roads, not evac them." Before Roy could say anything else, the soldier turned and whistled at someone. "Streucker! Get some people over into this bus!" 

"Rog!" someone yelled out, moving forward. "Alright people, let's get a move up!" 

Roy sighed, turning around to climb up the steps of his bus. Jackie felt a little bit relieved at this. She...wasn't a particularly greedy woman. If she could help people a little, then surely it would pay off when she'd meet Saint Peter in heaven, right? 

And besides, it felt wrong to drive off when they had so much space in the bus. The young man from earlier was the first to step up, a massive and heavy duffle-bag in his hand. The closer he came, the more familiar he was to her. "Howdy ma'm," 

"Elis Ingelman?" Jackie blinked, glancing at the young man. 

"Miss Jackie?" Elis blinked back. 

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A/N: Considering they have names and pictures, they all will survive.