Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Those kids in that school bus are defenseless, maybe wounded.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“And any surviving members of the gunfight.”
She looked at him sharply. “What?”
“Leo they caused all this mess!” Drifts chimed in.
“I realize that, but we don’t leave the living to the dead ever. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we don’t need to practically give them fodder to come against us, either.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay, but if they threaten my baby I will . . .”
“Do what is necessary,” Ramirez said.
“Yes.”
Ramirez said, “Sam, you don’t have to . . .”
Drifts held up his hand, “Shut up, old man, you know for a fact I’m not letting you go out there alone.”
Ramirez nodded. “Thank you, Sam.”
Justin came in with a fresh set of supplies from the truck. Ramirez stopped him before he could go for another round. “Justin, stay in here and monitor Taylor. Sam and I will try to bring more victims in. I’m not going to lie, young man, the next bit of time is going to be trying. You are in charge until we get back. These people are under your care.” Justin looked at the mother and son nervously then back at Ramirez. Ramirez clasped him on the shoulder. “You can do this.”
Justin nodded and wordlessly started to pool his supplies onto a nearby table.
Ramirez and Drifts took their leave. Outside the door, the medic pointed down the road. “Sam, I need you to check on the bus. If anyone’s alive in there, we need to get them to Tanya’s. I’ll check the ones on the street.”
“All right,” Drifts answered and sprinted towards the bus.
Ramirez jogged up to the group by Triple-Three. He knelt by their leader, who was sitting up holding his head. “Johnny, Can you stand up?”
Johnny’s head swung around, his eyes burning. “Motherfucker, get the hell away from me!”
Ramirez didn’t move. “Listen, any animosity is going to have to wait. We have maybe a few minutes before this place is swarmed with runners.”
One of Johnny’s crew, the one shot in the leg, sat up as his head spun around. “Oh, shit!”
Johnny wasn’t impressed. “Fuck you! I know how you fucking work. This is another one of your fucking meat wagon tricks.”
Feeling each painful tick of the clock, Ramirez suppressed any expression of annoyance. “It’s not a trick, Johnny. Look, I’m sorry how things went down earlier tonight, but now is different. Look around for yourself. The dead are surrounding all of us. They are going to rise soon, and when they do, they will not be your friends or enemies anymore, but they will be hungry.”
“Fuck you.”
The gang member with the injured leg said, “Johnny, he’s right. The dead are fucking everywhere! They’re going to come at all of us like we’re motherfucking hamburger!”
“Rico, shut the fuck up,” Johnny roared. “Don’t listen to a fucking word this cocksucker is saying! He’s a fucking liar!”
Ramirez sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He turned away and knelt down by the other gang member.
Johnny yelled, “Hey don’t fucking turn away from me when I’m talking to you, motherfucker!”
Ramirez ignored him as he focused on the other who was more boy than man, “Rico, was it? If I help you, do you think you can stand?”
Rico said, “I’d better, otherwise I might as well ring the fucking dinner bell.”
“I said I was talking to you!” Johnny shouted again.
Ramirez continued to ignore him. “Pretty much. We’ll get you inside Tanya’s house. I’m not sure how safe it is, but at least it’s not out in the open.”
“That suits me just fine.” Rico screamed out as Ramirez helped haul him up, more blood poured down his leg. “You okay?” asked the medic.
“No. But let’s get out of here.”
“Rico, you and this motherfucker aren’t going anywhere!”
Rico cried out, “Johnny what the fuck are you doing!”
Ramirez’s eyes followed Rico’s gaze. Johnny was pointing his pistol at both of them. Ramirez kept his voice level. “What are you doing, Johnny?”
Johnny snapped, “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing, ordering a fucking pizza? You two were just going to fucking leave me out here alone!”
“I wasn’t initially, but I wasn’t inclined to let your stubbornness to keep me from rescuing anyone else. Now you’re pointing your gun at me and your friend.”
“He’s no friend of mine! Abandoning me like trash!”
“Look around, Johnny!” Ramirez yelled. “The dead are going to rise any minute.”
Johnny smiled at him. “Well it looks like they are going to make a happy meal out of your ass.”
“Hey!”
Johnny twisted around as Drifts coldcocked him across the face. The EMT ripped the gun free of Johnny’s limp grip and tucked it into the back of his belt.
Rico shuddered. “Oh my God. I think I just pissed myself a little.”
Drifts took Rico under his other arm. “I’m not going to lie. That felt fucking awesome!”
“I’ll bet,” said Ramirez.
Rico gritted his teeth as the two of them bore him up the stairs. Justin joined them as they laid him down on the living room floor. The paramedic student already had bandages and IV supplies in his hands. He waved them on. “I’ve got this, guys, go ahead.”
The two of them took him at his word and were out the door. Sam said, “I was coming to get you when I saw you were having trouble with Señor Asshole over there.” He nodded to Johnny, who was already beginning to stir.
“What’s up?” asked Ramirez.
“Those fuckers shot that bus up pretty good. Three kids and the driver were hit. The driver is toast, and two of the kids look pretty bad, not to mention the over a dozen more kids that are pissing themselves right now. Truth is, I know they feel.”
“I do too, Sam. Go to the rig and get some backboards and meet me by the bus.”
“You got it.” Drifts ran past Johnny towards Triple-Three. He opened a side compartment and pulled out the boards.
Ramirez ran up to the bus. When he came to the door, he saw the portly driver sagged against steering wheel. The only thing that kept him from toppling out of his seat was the seatbelt securing him in place.
Just behind the driver was a little girl of about seven lay sprawled on the floor, her head rolled to the side as her blank eyes stared. Blood pooled beneath her pink shirt emboldened with the word PRINCESS.
Ramirez repressed a shudder as he stepped inside. Drifts followed him in carrying two backboards under his arm. The rest of the children, fifteen in all, ranged from elementary to middle-school ages. A girl of about ten with a bullet wound to her stomach leaned against a seat, panting as an older middle-school girl dabbed her sweaty face with a napkin. A middle school boy had a wound on his arm, and someone used a tee-shirt and the straps of a backpack as a makeshift sling and swath for it.
“Kids, my name is Leonardo Ramirez. You already met my partner Sam. We are here to help. We need to get you into that nearby house until more help can arrive.”
Several children teetered on the brink of tears. One little boy cried out that he wanted his momma. Ramirez saw the avalanche of hysteria beginning to form. When he spoke next he did not yell, but his tone became iron, “Now is not the time to cry. It is time for you to listen to myself or my partner, Sam.” He turned to Drifts. “We need to package her up,” he said indicating the girl shot in the stomach, “and get her to the house fast.”
“What about her?” Drifts pointed at the girl with the PRINCESS shirt on.
“She’s gone, Sam,” Ramirez told him flatly.
Several of the kids burst into tears upon hearing this. Drifts stared at him with open shock. “No . . . she was just talking to me before I went and got you. Her name was April. I . . .”
“Sam,” Ramirez cut in, “she’s gone, and time isn’t on our side.”
Drifts nodded. He took a moment to kneel down beside her and close her eyes. He shuddered, then joined Ramirez who was already standing next to the wounded girl.
“Sweetie, what’s your name?” Ramirez asked.
“M-M-Marjorie,” the little girl told him.
Ramirez smiled at her, “Okay, Marjorie, my friend and I are going to lay you down on the backboard. Then we’re going to get you and your friends to safety.” She nodded.
Ramirez looked up at his partner with an expression that spoke volumes. Drift’s face tightened as he looked from his the medic’s grave eyes to the wound on her stomach. Together they picked up Marjorie and laid her gently as they could on the backboard in the aisle of the bus.
Marjorie cried out in pain but they continued forward. The two of them swiftly strapped her to the backboard.
Ramirez spoke up. “Okay, I want everyone to stay together. Older kids should each take the hand of a younger kid. Do not let go of each other.” He lowered his voice. “Sam, do you think you can take point?”
“What about carrying her?” Drifts asked.
“I’ll recruit some help.” Ramirez locked eyes on two larger boys of thirteen or so. “You two,” he called to them.
The slightly smaller one of the pair answered, “Yes sir?”
“What’re your names?”
“I’m Tyson and this is Isaiah.”
“Well, Tyson, Isaiah, I have a special job for you. You two are going to help me carry Marjorie to the house.”
They both nodded and stepped forward. Together they slid Marjorie on her backboard down the aisle to the back of the bus.
A child screamed and every heads turned around as the bus driver suddenly reanimated. The driver was trying to tear free of the seatbelt restraints. In a blind panic, the children tried to run away from him to the back of the bus.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Ramirez shouted over the din. He had force them back so they didn’t trample over Marjorie.
Drifts took the situation in hand. The EMT closed the gap between himself and zombie in two long strides. The former driver’s empty gaze fastened onto Drifts as he approached.
Drifts grabbed the zombie’s outstretched wrist and yanked it forward as he swung his titanium flashlight, landing a thudding blow to the back of its skull. The kids screamed. Drifts hammered down again and again. The zombie went limp after the EMT’s second strike, but Drifts struck for another two times for good measure.
“He’s down.” Drifts called back. He did not look at any of the children. “I’m sorry about your bus driver and friend. Leo, I’m going to meet you on the other side of the door after I check the bus’s perimeter.”
“Okay, Sam. Be careful.”
Ramirez opened the back door and Drifts was there a moment later. “Nothing’s moving yet.”
A little boy looked up at him. “You want us to go out there?”
“Yes. We don’t have anything to properly secure this bus,” Ramirez told him.
“What about those guys with guns?”
“They’re not around anymore.”
“And the zombies?” asked a girl.
“They’ll be here soon if we don’t move. My partner and I will protect you. Now let’s go.” Together Drifts and Ramirez picked up the girl on the long spineboard and eased her to the ground. After which they help the kids down from the bus.
“Remember to hold hands; everyone stay together,” Ramirez said in a low voice. He looked at his helpers, Tyson and Isaiah, “Okay, boys, let’s lift. Sam, you have point.” Ramirez nodded ahead of them. “Do you see that house ahead with an open door? That’s where we’re heading.”
They nodded their general assent. “Good. Now keep silent. Only call out if you see trouble. Let’s move.”
Drifts nodded and started forward. In his wake, the kids slowly followed. As the EMT passed the bus he shouted, “We got a runner!”
A zombie with charred skin came rushing towards their group at a full sprint. The kids screamed and started to disperse.
“Stay with me!” The unmistakable command in Ramirez’s voice whip-cracked through the air, halting any open flight.
Drifts shouted, “I’ve got him! Get those kids the hell out of here!”
Drifts took aim at the oncoming zombie Johnny’s gun. The children screamed as the shot rang out. The zombie’s body jerked and flesh blasted away from the thing’s shoulder.
Drifts fired again, completely missing. “Dammit!” he cursed.
He took careful aim and pulled the trigger. The weapon clicked.
“Oh what the fuck!” Drifts snapped.
He tossed the useless weapon to the ground and sprang forward.
A war cry tore from the EMT’s lips as he charged the zombie. The dead thing locked its dead eyes onto its willing victim and altered course to meet him. In the last instant, Drifts side-step it, swinging his flashlight like a medieval mace.
The bones of the zombie’s elbow snapped. In the last moment it raised its arm to grab at him, deflecting Drifts’s aim so that his next blow only glanced off of its head. It staggered in a circle before falling to its knees. The dead thing’s head whipped around to find its victim, but Drifts was already there. His steel-toed boot crashed into the side of the thing’s head, knocking the zombie onto its back. Drifts, enveloped in a cloud of his own rage, planted a second and third kick to its temple.