Jack Roy Final Chapter Up.

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

Moderator: ZS Global Moderators

User avatar
doc66
* * * * *
Posts: 5709
Joined: Wed Mar 08, 2006 11:56 am
Location: Back home in Tennessee
Contact:

Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Sat Jan 10, 2015 10:17 am

Yeah, it does.

Thanks for all the critiques; I've gotten some good stuff here and in pm's about this; I have to remember when writing to do some things so that characters come off as authentic... Keep me honest, folks.
Image
http://www.milcopptactical.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

Snapshot7.62
* * *
Posts: 359
Joined: Mon Mar 24, 2008 10:54 pm
Location: South Dakota

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Snapshot7.62 » Sat Jan 10, 2015 12:01 pm

Great story Doc, the language barrier and the consequent breaking down of said barrier makes for a very interesting story.
Suizen wrote:CZ is made of sex. Angry, ass slapping, hair pulling, filthy, dirty sex.

teachermom44
*
Posts: 54
Joined: Fri Jan 27, 2012 8:04 pm

Re: Jack Roy

Post by teachermom44 » Sat Jan 10, 2015 1:05 pm

The language barrier is annoying sometimes but I usually wait for your writing to explain what was said. That being said I would think if something like this "really" happened, you just might find yourself with someone who doesn't speak your language. I say keep it up.

User avatar
Redsky
* * *
Posts: 389
Joined: Mon Jan 16, 2012 11:57 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: Romero's stuff

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Redsky » Sat Jan 10, 2015 2:39 pm

No hagas caso a estos llorones . Mantenga yor historia de la manera que usted quiere que sea .

Catshooter
*
Posts: 56
Joined: Thu Sep 24, 2009 11:05 pm

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Catshooter » Mon Jan 26, 2015 3:17 am

The Spanish doesn't work for me either.

I do have a question. When Jack pulled the Ruger from his pack and everyone got quiet wasn't his Glock out and visible on the waist belt of his pack? Didn't this bother anyone? I'm not following. I would think that the ways things are that guns would be totally normal, like the 1911 on the bodyguard's hip.

Sort me out please.


Cat

Hunt4lyf
* *
Posts: 119
Joined: Wed Jan 31, 2007 4:52 pm

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Hunt4lyf » Sun Feb 01, 2015 10:51 pm

WTF Doc? Almost a month and no updates? Utteraly unacceptable.

DAVE KI
* * *
Posts: 782
Joined: Tue Nov 08, 2011 11:47 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: WWZ though nowhere as good as the book.
Location: The Great State of (cough cough)Oregon

Re: Jack Roy

Post by DAVE KI » Sun Feb 01, 2015 11:54 pm

WTF Hunt4lyf? Thought there was moar story. But only disappointment.Kinda LOL.
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

idahobob
* * *
Posts: 400
Joined: Mon Apr 19, 2010 9:20 pm
Location: Idaho

Re: Jack Roy

Post by idahobob » Mon Feb 02, 2015 4:25 pm

Typical Doc. :(

Bob
III
People who are rather more than six feet tall and nearly as broad across the shoulders often have uneventful journeys. People jump out at them from behind rocks then say things like, "Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

Hunt4lyf
* *
Posts: 119
Joined: Wed Jan 31, 2007 4:52 pm

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Hunt4lyf » Tue Feb 03, 2015 8:47 am

DAVE KI wrote:WTF Hunt4lyf? Thought there was moar story. But only disappointment.Kinda LOL.
:clap: At least it wasn't me being disappointed this time.
idahobob wrote:Typical Doc. :(

Bob
III
Yeah... :gonk:

User avatar
doc66
* * * * *
Posts: 5709
Joined: Wed Mar 08, 2006 11:56 am
Location: Back home in Tennessee
Contact:

Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Fri Feb 06, 2015 11:36 am

Ha. Broken toes and work have kept me from writing. When you don't have a set schedule, you tend to not have time for life. I hate my job, actually.
Image
http://www.milcopptactical.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

User avatar
Spazzy
* * *
Posts: 391
Joined: Mon May 13, 2013 1:19 pm
Location: Chesapeake, VA

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Spazzy » Fri Feb 06, 2015 11:44 am

I've hated every job I've had since I retired from the Navy in 2001...
I can relate.

Broken toes? Whose ass were ya kickin?
Overheard at my USN retirement ceremony....
"So he's not a team player then?"
"You mean Spazz...? Hes not even a fan of the team."

User avatar
doc66
* * * * *
Posts: 5709
Joined: Wed Mar 08, 2006 11:56 am
Location: Back home in Tennessee
Contact:

Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Fri Feb 06, 2015 12:32 pm

I wish I had kicked someones ass! Instead a piece of plywood slipped out of my hands and dropped edge down on my foot. It hurt so much, I couldn't even swear; and I love to swear. My toes are a pretty black and blue, and they hurt all the time!

As for the writing; I do have a couple starts, but I haven't been able to focus long enough on one to decide which I want to run with, due to the weird hours I've been working. There just hasn't been a long enough stretch of time all at once, which sucks, because I have the vision of the story in the long run view. I just need to create time, somewhere.
Image
http://www.milcopptactical.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

Hunt4lyf
* *
Posts: 119
Joined: Wed Jan 31, 2007 4:52 pm

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Hunt4lyf » Mon Feb 09, 2015 8:56 pm

I just checked in, saw you posted and was like "Hell yeah! An update!" Boy was I let down. I've done that with the plywood, luckily with good boots on but it still sucked, hope your feet heal up and you can focus on important stuff, like this story.

User avatar
Spazzy
* * *
Posts: 391
Joined: Mon May 13, 2013 1:19 pm
Location: Chesapeake, VA

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Spazzy » Tue Feb 10, 2015 12:14 pm

doc66 wrote:I wish I had kicked someones ass! Instead a piece of plywood slipped out of my hands and dropped edge down on my foot. It hurt so much, I couldn't even swear; and I love to swear. My toes are a pretty black and blue, and they hurt all the time!

As for the writing; I do have a couple starts, but I haven't been able to focus long enough on one to decide which I want to run with, due to the weird hours I've been working. There just hasn't been a long enough stretch of time all at once, which sucks, because I have the vision of the story in the long run view. I just need to create time, somewhere.

My wife did the same thing with a piece she was attempting to "help" me with...
She broke two metatarsals...
Overheard at my USN retirement ceremony....
"So he's not a team player then?"
"You mean Spazz...? Hes not even a fan of the team."

Hunt4lyf
* *
Posts: 119
Joined: Wed Jan 31, 2007 4:52 pm

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Hunt4lyf » Wed Feb 25, 2015 10:05 am

Are your toes healed up enough for you to type?

User avatar
91Eunozs
ZS Lifetime Member
ZS Lifetime Member
Posts: 2030
Joined: Sat Dec 31, 2011 8:16 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: All of them!
Location: Hill Country, Texas

Re: Jack Roy

Post by 91Eunozs » Wed Feb 25, 2015 10:06 pm

Hunt4lyf wrote:Are your toes healed up enough for you to type?
:lol:

Another one for my book of quotes....and sig line material for Doc!
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
Doctorr Fabulous wrote:... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

User avatar
jackorchuck
*
Posts: 54
Joined: Thu Jun 27, 2013 7:14 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: The Hord

Re: Jack Roy

Post by jackorchuck » Thu Feb 26, 2015 6:34 pm

Good story so far Doc, thank you.

User avatar
doc66
* * * * *
Posts: 5709
Joined: Wed Mar 08, 2006 11:56 am
Location: Back home in Tennessee
Contact:

Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Mon Mar 09, 2015 2:13 pm

Sorry it's been so long. But here we go again; Jack Roy is ready.



He could smell the dog cooking and the odor lingered far into the night. Feeling out of place, Jack Roy had taken to the stairs and found a way up to the roof of the building. Here, out of the way of the press of so many people, Jack Roy enjoyed the stars and the waxing moon which was just under half full. While the night was mostly still with little breeze, he could see the cook fires of the savages lighting the street several blocks away. Jack Roy was assuming that the ghouls were cooking the dogs that he and Dairo had killed alongside those monsters they had taken a stand with; perhaps also the body of the one which had fallen to the dog’s concentrated attack. In truth, he really did not care who or what they were cooking and eating, as long as it was not himself or someone he knew. It was peaceful on the roof, and Jack Roy was enjoying the relative silence which was giving his overloaded senses a respite from the sudden assault of being around a crowd of people. Below, the surviving members of the soccer team enjoyed the two bottles of alcohol and the additions of the food stuffs Jack Roy and Dairo had brought with them from the building. He had been able to follow some of the conversation which had been fired back and forth until it had become too overwhelming for Jack Roy to try and keep up. One of the other players, a smaller man named himself as Rafeal García Osorio, had taken Jack Roy under his wing as translator for a little while. The man had tried to keep Jack Roy informed, but the constant need for translation was wearing on them both.

Jack Roy had found it amusing that the others of the team had given Dairo a fair share of grief for not bringing a bottle of rum with him—apparently this was considered to be a national favorite—and Dairo had simply told them that he brought what he enjoyed drinking. The boisterous exchange thereafter made it possible for Jack Roy to slip out unnoticed.

Leaning back in the chair that he had brought with him, Jack Roy gazed out over the parapet at the lights that were blinking around the city from what Jack Roy could only assume were the fires of survivors—either those like himself, or those of the ghouls who now seemed to outnumber what he knew as humanity. There seemed to be more than the previous nights he had seen them. Jack Roy wondered if those numbers were increased because of his new vantage point or if there were actually more fires being built.

Jack Roy hoped it was the vantage point he now occupied. Either way, Jack Roy knew he had to get out of the city soon; he had miles to travel, perhaps another month of walking, to get where he was going, and the summer would not last for much longer. The latest he wanted to be out walking was early to mid-autumn, any longer than that and he knew he risked getting caught in early winter storms if he were not careful. Back in the pioneer days, if they had not reached the Wyoming border by the beginning of July, they would not make it over the Rockies before the first snow fall. Jack Roy was not sure how to translate that to his situation, but he knew he did not have long left for travelling.

“Oye, ¿qué te trae por aquí ? El partido está abajo,” came the voice of Dairo. “You no like mi amigos?”

Turning in his seat, Jack Roy greeted his friend. “Hola, amigo. I just needed a break from all the people. Tiempo separados.”

Dairo came over to the wall and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette as he took a moment to decipher Jack Roy’s phrase. He nodded as he blew the smoke out into the night air, letting the smell of the tobacco mingle with the odor of the cooking dog. “Ellos pueden ser un grupo fuerte de chicos cuando llegan a beber. No hemos tenido el alcohol en las últimas semanas . No se necesita mucho más para ser arruinado .” Dairo paused and looked at Jack Roy to be sure he understood what was being said. “No drink many for long time. Makes amigos crazy, yes?”

“Si,” agreed Jack Roy with a laugh. “Loco.”

“Jack Roy,” started Dairo. “You stay with us here, no?”

Smiling in the darkness, Jack Roy gave a short laugh and shrugged after breathing out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t think so,” he admitted. “No, no puedo. I have far to go still.”

Dairo looked hurt under the ambient light of the stars and partial moon. “You are welcome here.”

“I know, si, but I have a place I need to go,” he told the man. “Mi amigos, we have a place where I can be safe; un lugar seguro; hay peligro.”

Jack Roy paused and then pushed on. “De donde es usted vaya?”

Dairo smiled.

“Estabas vas,” corrected Dairo, almost automatically. He flipped the cigarette down at his feet and stepped on it. “Es nuestra intención de tratar de llegar a Colombia, de alguna manera . Los Estados Unidos no está en casa para nosotros ; nuestro pueblo está ahí, vamos a tratar de volver a casa , de vuelta a Colombia.”

“Back to Colombia?” Jack Roy shook his head in wonder. “That’s a fucking long way.”

“Si,” agreed Dairo. “At least we are no walking, yes?”

“True.”

“Come, mi amigo,” said Dairo as he stepped away from the wall. “You to sleep. Es tarde; necesita descanso.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” said Jack Roy. “Momento, por favor.”

“No sera largo,” Dairo said as he walked back to the roof access door.

“Ok,” agreed Jack Roy.

He looked back out over the city and counted the lights he saw there. It was too many for him to be comfortable. He hoped that the realization that there were more fires being stoked in the night would not keep him for sleeping. Standing, Jack Roy picked up his backpack and followed after Dairo.


Morning came with someone gently shaking him awake. Jack Roy had been dreaming of Texas barbecue; dry rubbed and smoked all night, juicy and tender and with fat melting all down his fingers. As a result, as soon as he opened his eyes, he was hungry, until he saw the concern in the eyes of Rafael. The other man put a finger to his lips as a caution for Jack Roy to be quiet and motioned for him to follow. Jack Roy unzipped the sleeping back and rolled out, aware of the full bladder urging him to take care of that business first. He grabbed Rafael’s arm and held up a finger for the man to wait for him. Rafael frowned, but Jack Roy simply went to the corner of the room and stood over the trash can, sighing as he emptied his bladder into the receptacle. Once finished, Jack Roy turned back and grabbed up the Glock that had been resting by his sleeping bag, slipping the holster into his waist band. He nodded to Rafael that he was ready and followed the man to the stairwell.

Rafael lead Jack Roy back up to the roof. On the way up, the man spoke in a low whisper, giving him some explanation as to what was happening.

“During the night, the monsters, they try to get into this building. The doors held, but they break a couple windows and look around the bottom floor, not coming very far in,” said Rafael as they huffed up the stairs. “Today, we find that they are everywhere.”

“In the building?” asked Jack Roy, worried that they might be trapped, or preparing to fight hordes of ghouls.

“No, no,” assured Rafael. “Not yet. But we are very worried.”

“No shit.”

“No shit.”

They reached the top and stepped out into the full sunlight of the roof. Jack Roy blinked and rubbed his eyes to clear them of the little dots he was seeing. The sky was a brilliant blue without a cloud in it. From the roof, Jack Roy could see what seemed for miles out over the city and beyond. He turned his head from side to side as his eyes adjusted to the light, catching the glints of the morning sun reflecting off the windows of the buildings around them; some of the windows were gold tinted, and cast bright rays of sparkling light off their surface. It all made Jack Roy feel a little better, being in a place where everything appeared normal; here on the roof, one could pretend that it was still two years ago, and that the horrors of the last several months had not happened the world over. If he could have heard the sounds of traffic from below, the illusion would have been complete. Jack Roy dragged himself out of the pleasant trance he had fallen into and looked back to the gritty surface of the roof top.

Rafael was walking to where a group of the soccer team was huddled near the edge of the roof. He recognized el Jefe, Ciro, and Nidia right away, the other four men, Jack Roy knew by sight, but their names escaped him. There was a low curse from the stair behind him, and Jack Roy turned in time to see Dairo stumble onto the roof, his face still puffy from sleep and eyes blinking under the harsh sunlight. Dairo saw Jack Roy and gave him a rueful grin.

“Amigo,” grunted Dairo.

“Esse,” returned Jack Roy.

Dairo gave him a barking laugh. “Usted Gangster ahora?”

“Mi mala culo,” returned Jack Roy, flashing the only gang sign he knew, the Westside W he had seen Snoop Dog flash in a video. Or maybe it was Tu Pac. He couldn’t remember.

“What the fuck is happening?” asked Dairo.

“No pista.”

Rafael called to them. “Hurry, el Jefe is waiting.”

The expression on Dairo’s face told Jack Roy that his friend would rather be summoned by the flesh eaters below than the defacto leader of the soccer team. Dairo slapped Jack Roy on the back and squared his shoulders as he walked over to where the others were gathered. In a gesture of defiance, Dairo freed the crumpled pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans and pulled one out, lighting it with the Bic from the same pocket. Dairo blew out the smoke at the crowd, a seemingly unintentional gesture, but one Jack Roy knew was one of distain just from the few days he had known the other man.

“Poner esa cosa,” growled el Jefe, when he saw Dairo walking toward him. “Mo necesitamos llamar la atención sobre nosotros mismos con todas esas cosas vagando por las calles por debajo de nosotros.”

“Estamos a salvo aquí,” responded Dairo, still inhaling on the cigarette. “No nos pueden ver ni oler nosotros.”

“Dairo, simplemente hacer lo que le pide,”scolded Nidia.

Dairo gave her a long look while taking a draw on the cigarette. He blew the smoke out his nose, took another drag and then dropped the burning tube to the gravel on the roof, stepping on it and slowly grinding the cigarette out with the toe of his boot. He looked at el Jefe to see that the man was satisfied with his action. El Jefe simply grunted and turned back to gesture out at the city.

“Los comedores de carne han llegado en los números de esta mañana. Ellos se están reuniendo a unas dos cuadras de distancia, en un espacio verde o parquet,”el Jefe said with a nod out at the city. Jack Roy moved up to the rampart to see what the man was speaking about while Rafael moved up with him and began to translate. El Jefe ignored Jack Roy and continued. “Si esperamos demasiado tiempo , estaremos atrapados en este edificio hasta que se vayan . No tenemos suficiente comida para ser atrapado aquí. Tenemos que conseguir esas piezas y dejar tan pronto como sea posible.”

El Jefe turned to look at Dairo with cold black eyes. “Usted y el estadounidense encontró un vehículo como el que nos dirigimos ; usted puede conseguir las piezas que necesitamos?”

Dairo nodded to the man, Rafael whispered to Jack Roy. “The monsters have come into the city and are camping near here,” he told

Jack Roy in a low voice. “El Jefe asks if you found a vehicle that can fix the one we have been using.”

Jack Roy looked down at the shorter man and laughed to himself; he knew that was not all the man had said, but also knew that for expediencies sake, the translation was a good as he was going to get.

“Sí , hemos encontrado un vehículo que iba a funcionar.” Dairo also moved up next to the wall, and leaning on it, cast a glance at the empty street below. He grinned at Jack Roy and turned back to where el Jefe and the others were watching him. “Pero ¿no sería más fácil de hacer que la pila de la que estamos impulsando ahora y llevar que uno aquí? No sabemos que podemos arreglar la furgoneta estamos conduciendo . Si eso se parte , que sería más rápido que hacerlo de esta manera, y más seguro para nosotros también.”

“Dairo wants to bring that van you found back here,” said Rafael. Jack Roy suppressed a laugh. It was like being in a comedy sketch or a foreign movie where the actors spoke on and on in a made up language and the closed caption simply said, “yes.”

“¿Qué pasa si no funciona ?” asked el Jefe in an exasperated voice.

“Luego nos traen las piezas de vuelta aquí y fijar éste,” replied Dairo simply.

“¿Qué pasa con todas nuestras pertenencias y la comida?” demanded el Jefe.

“Enviar dos personas con nosotros,” argued Dairo, “Podemos tomar la comida que encontramos en el otro edificio, cargarlo en la furgoneta , trae todo lo que aquí . Mientras hacemos eso , puede vaciar la furgoneta aquí y tener todo el equipo listo para ser transferido a la otra van una vez que traemos aquí.”

“Eso es un montón de tiempo fuera en esa furgoneta mientras esas cosas andan a nuestro alrededor,” rumbled el Jefe.

“Si tenemos que arreglar la furgoneta, que vamos a hacer lo mismo ; pasar mucho tiempo al aire libre y correr el riesgo de descubrimiento,” coaxed Dairo, suddenly changing tactics and working to ddraw the man over to his reasoning. “Al menos de esta manera , podemos conseguir nuestro pueblo listo y en el camión de mudanzas si somos atacados ; tenemos todo un país en el que encontrar más equipo si es necesario.”

Jack Roy elbowed Rafael. The man was engrossed in the exchange and had forgotten to keep Jack Roy apprised of the exchange which was unfolding before him.

“Pardon,” said Rafael. “Basically, they are arguing if the van should be driven here and if it is safe to transfer our goods from one to the other.”

“Really?” said Jack Roy. “That’s all I get?”

“It is complicated,” answered Rafael with a Central American gesture involving both hands and a shrug.

“I should have stayed in bed,” groused Jack Roy.

Rafael shrugged again and turned back to the two sparring men. El Jefe seemed to be considering whatever Dairo had said. El Jefe looked over at Ciro and the other man nodded once in silent agreement. El Jefe finally nodded and when he spoke it was in a magnanimous tone, as if he had been thinking along the same lines as Dairo all along.

“Muy bien,” he said, reaching out and pulling Dairo close with an arm over the other’s shoulders. “Lo haremos como usted ha expuesto . Si la furgoneta no funciona , usted trae las partes aquí . Si funciona, lo lleve a la otra van a nosotros con la comida en el mismo. Yo enviaré Ciro con usted, y Rafael. ¿Cuánto tiempo tomará esto para que usted pueda ir y volver?”

“Dos diaz.”

Rafael looked stricken when he heard what el Jefe had said. Jack Roy pulled at the man’s arm, looking for a translation since el Jefe had spoken much too fast for Jack Roy to follow. “What’s going on?”

“We just got volunteered to go back and get that van,” said Rafael in a subdued voice.

“What van? The one back at the Meade building?” asked Jack Roy. Dairo turned and smiled apologetically at his friend over the shoulder of el Jefe. Jack Roy felt his stomach flip. “Damn it, Dairo, tell me I don’t have to go back there through all this.”

Dairo mouth an apology to him as el Jefe lead the other man away, speaking in conspiratorial tones to him, probably making plans for them to risk their lives yet again in a sprint across the ten blocks of the city which now seemed to be infested with even more ghouls than previously. Ninia put a hand out to Jack Roy.

“You’ve already done this once,” she said in what she probably thought was a helpful tone.

“Playing odds isn’t my strong suit,” muttered Jack Roy.

Ciro came up to him and gave Jack Roy a hard nod, one that action heroes always gave people before they did something stupid.

“Estaremos bien. Vamos a matar a todos en el camino y estar de vuelta antes de saber que hemos estado fuera.”

“For real?”

Ninia flashed him a pained smile. “Ciro is very good at what he does; and so you must be as well. After all, you have made it this far.”

“I did it by not being too stupid.”

“It will be fine,” she told him and then quickly followed the others to the roof access door. Jack Roy turned to where Rafael was staring out at the city.

“Are they serious?” asked Jack Roy. “I mean, I’m not a part of this whole thing, really. I don’t have to go.”

“Go or not,” said Rafael, pulling out a pack of cigarettes of his own. “If you don’t, el Jefe will throw you out of here on your ass. You’ll be on your own with all those things out there. At least this way, we can watch each other’s backs.”

“Fuck.” While he had been on his own of the better part of two months, Jack Roy did not relish jumping out alone again so soon. At the moment, being thrown out was akin to walking the plank, with the ghouls out there the sharks. He wasn’t ready to risk that just yet. With the other three men with him, at least there was the life boat of having someone to watch his back. Jack Roy reached out and pulled the cigarette out of Rafael’s fingers. “Fuck.”

Rafael lit the cigarette for him, and then one of his own. “I wanted to see the city anyway.”

Jack Roy laughed at the man. The cigarette tasted like shit, but he smoked it down to the filter anyway.
Image
http://www.milcopptactical.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

User avatar
bodyparts
* *
Posts: 151
Joined: Sat Jan 25, 2014 9:25 am
Favorite Zombie Movies: land of the dead
Location: sw , mo

Re: Jack Roy

Post by bodyparts » Mon Mar 09, 2015 2:59 pm

thanks doc

User avatar
doc66
* * * * *
Posts: 5709
Joined: Wed Mar 08, 2006 11:56 am
Location: Back home in Tennessee
Contact:

Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Mon Mar 09, 2015 9:37 pm

Hunt4lyf wrote:Are your toes healed up enough for you to type?
Yes. :clap:
Image
http://www.milcopptactical.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

Hunt4lyf
* *
Posts: 119
Joined: Wed Jan 31, 2007 4:52 pm

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Hunt4lyf » Mon Mar 09, 2015 11:20 pm

Hurray!!!!! :clap:

User avatar
doc66
* * * * *
Posts: 5709
Joined: Wed Mar 08, 2006 11:56 am
Location: Back home in Tennessee
Contact:

Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Mon Mar 09, 2015 11:40 pm

They were going to travel light, which meant that Jack Roy was leaving his backpack behind in order to move faster and keep their profile down as they moved back to the Belle Meade building. Instead of the heavy pack, Jack Roy was toting a day pack he had been given by one of the soccer team. In the pack Jack Roy had shoved a water bottle, a spare pair of socks, all the ammunition he had for the Glock, the ammo for the Ruger, his little pen light, and the big flashlight he had found in the Meade building. He did not like that the pack had no waist belt, but it was only ten blocks, and if everything went well, he’d be reunited with his own pack soon enough. If not, Jack Roy doubted that it would matter what pack he stuffed his belongings into.

They now were standing at the window leading out onto the fire escape, waiting for the word to come that the coast was clear. Ciro had wanted to wait until evening to move out, which Jack Roy thought was a fine idea, but the bodyguard had been over ruled by el Jefe who had insisted that they leave as soon as they were ready. Being ready meant that they ate breakfast, had a little prayer meeting during which el Jefe had read in Spanish from the Bible and crossed himself many times. Jack Roy endured this since he was not particularly religious, but he had forgone his part in the prayers to La Estatua de la Virgen, a ritual which struck him as pretty pagan when the players had prostrate themselves in front of the figurine. Then they had said goodbye to everyone on the team, and then packed and repacked what they thought they would need for the short trip through the dangerous streets which were now teaming with even more ghouls than Jack Roy had thought possible. Doing all of those things meant they were now leaving in the middle of the afternoon, when the sun was at the highest, but thankfully, the monsters seemed to be holed up and awaiting the cooler evening hours to wander the streets of the city.

When the lookout finally gave the stage whispered, “Todo despejado,” Jack Roy was more than ready to risk losing his backpack to get the show on the road.

First out of the window was Ciro, ducking through the frame with his sawn off shotgun leading the way. Dairo was next, and then Jack Roy, and finally, Rafael who winced as the window dropped down to close off the frame behind them. Ciro was already climbing down the ladder and had dropped to the ground just as Dairo took the first rung, his own shotgun slung across his back. Jack Roy gave Dairo just enough room to get mostly down the ladder and with the Ruger gripped in one hand, followed his friend down to the alley. Rafael followed, nearly falling part of the way when he lost his grip on the rung and his foot slipped at the same time. Jack Roy heard the man bite back a curse as he regained his footing and finished the climb. When he reached the bottom, Ciro gave the man a scathing look which Rafael shrugged off with a bravado Jack Roy could see he did not feel. Rafael unlimbered the only long gun worth any count in the party, a full sized AR with a carry handle. The drawback was that the rifle was limited by the number of magazines on hand for it, which was two. Jack Roy hoped they did not get cornered somewhere by a hoard of fiends intent on having them for dinner.

As prearranged, Dairo and Jack Roy took the lead. They moved to the end of the alley, peering out at the street to be sure that it was indeed clear of obstacles while Ciro and Rafael went to work to remove the battery from the compartment of the van. Rafael had been designated to carry the battery and while Jack Roy and Dairo kept watch, the heavy storage container was wrestled from the van to be slid into the backpack for the journey to the other vehicle. Ciro himself grabbed a five gallon can of diesel fuel from the storage rack on the top of the broken down vehicle and it too was set into the backpack he carried in case the other vehicle had no fuel in the tank. If the other van had no gas in it to speak of, they figured that the five gallons might be enough to get them to a place where they could either fill up again, or at least get them out of town far enough to escape the monsters inhabiting the city. It was a risk they were all willing to take.

Ciro came up behind them and tapped their shoulders to signify that they were all ready to begin the ten block hike to the Belle Meade building. Dairo and Jack Roy stepped out from the alley and moved along the sidewalk back toward the direction they had just left the day before. They slid along the store fronts, and as they moved, Jack Roy could see their reflections in the dirty glass of the display windows. They appeared to be not dissimilar from the fiends they were trying to avoid to Jack Roy’s eyes; all of them had beards, and while the Colombians beards were trimmed, the dark circles around their eyes, messy hair, and baggy clothing worn too many times gave them the look of desperados running from danger for far too long. They reached the end of the street and Dairo stopped with Jack Roy not far behind. Ciro and Rafael also came to a halt, taking a knee and scanning the area around them for threats. They all felt exposed in the broad daylight, and to stop meant they might be discovered in the open with no chance of escape or the possibility of finding a place to hide.

Dairo peeked around the corner. He leaned back to Jack Roy and spoke, pointing with his hands as he asked for direction. “¿Hay que cruzar por aquí, o moverse por esta calle lateral? Go over or move here?”

Jack Roy moved up and took a peek of his own. With the sun as high as it was, the number of shadows were limited, but if they moved down the side street, they could at least take advantage of some of the shadows which hung near the face of the buildings near the corner on which they stood. “Down the side street. Mover aqui.”

Dairo nodded and caught the attention of Ciro and Rafael. “Mover aqui.”

When the other two nodded they understood, Dario and Jack Roy headed down the side street into the cover of the shadows. As they moved in and out of the shadows, the sounds of the street began to reach Jack Roy’s ears. He could hear the hooting and calls of the ghouls in the distance; occasionally the howl or barking of a dog was mixed into the sounds, and Jack Roy began to suspect that not all was as calm in the city streets as they had hoped. The looks on Ciro and Rafael’s faces told him that they too heard the noise and were beginning to think that the push to move so soon in the day was premature, and probably dangerous to them all.

“Tener cuiado pelegro,” said Jack Roy, pointing out at the city around them.

Ciro gave Jack Roy a sour looking face. “I do speak English, remember? I am aware of the danger we face out here,” Ciro told him and then added. “And your Spanish sucks.”

Dairo glanced behind him at the softly arguing men. “Yo no hablo muy bien el Inglés, por lo que va a la mierda, Ciro.”

“Y la mierda a su madre,” snapped Ciro back.

“Let’s just get the fuck out of here, si?” said Rafael.

Dairo turned back toward the direction they had been traveling and when they made it to the corner, stopped once more. They bunched up behind a taxi which had jumped the curb and smashed into the store front at the corner. Broken glass lay in shards around their feet and the contents of the store had been exposed to the weather. Racks of paper had been soaked over the months of rain and snow, the paper now nothing but lumps of congealed pulp. Even the glossy magazines were faded and the colors nothing more than a mass of pixels where once newsworthy faces peered out. Inside the store the damage had caused the tiles to pop off the concrete and far into the depths of the store nature had taken its toll, with weeds growing against the shelves and along the dirty cracks of the floor. It would not take long for everything to disappear, once it started, thought Jack Roy.

“Jack Roy,” whispered Dairo, “Cómo hemos venido mas de una cuadra o dos?”

“Did you come over one block or two?” translated Ciro before Jack Roy could put the question together enough to answer. Jack
Roy shot the man a dark look even though it was helping.

“Uno,” he told Dairo. After a second he grabbed his friends arm as the man began to rise to move. “No, no; usted como dos.”

Dairo stared at him and Ciro gave a snort of derision. Jack Roy frowned and went through his limited grammar. “Paso dos cuadra.”

Smiling, Dairo nodded. “Eso es lo que yo pensaba.” He looked at Jack Roy and grinning said, “Cómo se dice en español; caminó dos cuadras.” And made walking gestures with his fingers.

“Camino ahora,” returned Jack Roy letting go of the other man’s arm with a friendly shove.

“Caminar ahora,” corrected Ciro gruffly. Jack Roy sighed; he was never going to get this language thing right. Instead of fighting it, Jack Roy just waved his friend on, and set up with the Ruger to cover Dairo’s sprint across the street.

Dairo nodded and after a quick look around at the still empty street, darted across the wide lane to the opposite corner where he flattened out against the wall of the building and waved the next runner across. There was a moment of hesitation while the three men all stared at each other trying to decipher who exactly was going to go next. Finally after what seemed like several minutes, Ciro shook his head and with a growl, ran across the street to where Dairo was waiting with his shotgun ready. As he ran, Jack Roy could hear the diesel sloshing around in the container he carried in his backpack. It sounded as if the man were running with an aquarium on his back. Jack Roy did not envy that weight at all. He wondered how Rafael was holding up with the sixty pound battery in his own pack and was glad that he only had the limited items he did, remembering his own sprints through the city and his climb across the bridge to get into the city. When Ciro reached Dairo and turned back to them, waving for the next man to run across, Jack Roy decided that he was not yet ready to make that sprint.

“Go,” said Jack Roy to Rafael.

“Are you sure?”

Jack Roy took a second to stare at the man, but in that moment Rafael was already out and headed across the street, his feet slapping on the pavement and weaving between the cars stalled in the roadway. Finally, it was Jack Roy’s turn. Jack Roy did not bother to see if the street was clear, he simply stood up and ran. His feet pounded on the roadway, and under his boots the bits of gravel and dirt shifted and rolled, making his steps slip as he tried to dig against the pavement for a better, faster run. Instead of weaving on and out between the derelict vehicles the way that the others had done, Jack Roy simply jumped up and slide across the trunks and hoods that were in the way as if he were in a cop movie, sliding across the dirty metal to the other fender where he dropped back to his feet and ran again. In truth, it was fun to act just a little stupid.

When he reached where the others were leaning against the wall, he was slightly out of breath and sweating from the exertion and the sun which beat down on the street. Ciro was angry at him, but Jack Roy did not really care.

“Do you want to simply yell that we are here?” demanded the bodyguard.

Jack Roy laughed at the man. “Can you hear the yelling they are doing?” He paused so that there was silence between them and in the void they could distinguish hooting and yelps and shouts coupled with the noise of metal being hammered in drum-like beats. “I don’t think that my sliding across the trunk of a car will go noticed with all the noise they are making.”

“We don’t need to advertise.”

“Advertising is the least of my worries,” said Jack Roy. “What I wonder is what are they getting ready for?”

The thought that the ghouls might be gearing up for something sinister put a damper on all their other concerns. Ciro simply grunted and motioned to Dairo.

“Vamonos.”

Dairo set out again with Jack Roy following him.

They finally turned the corner leading up to the parking garage. The alley was the same as it had been when they left; narrow, dirty and empty of any sign of life. Hot and thirsty, feeling frazzled from the constant fear that they might be discovered, the four men practically ran up the ramp into the parking garage, letting the coolness of the enclosure overtake them and provide a sense of security at being less exposed than they had been while traveling the street. In the parking garage the noise of the apparent festival the ghouls were holding was muffled by the concrete barrier. It must have been quite the gathering for the noise to reach them even here, ten blocks away from the park where the things were gathering. Dario led them up the ramp and onto the floor where they had seen the Mercedes van parked. On seeing the van Ciro gave a low whistle.

“Que está en mejor forma que la que estamos manejando ahora,” he said and then looked at Jack Roy. “It’s in better shape than ours.”

“Good,” congratulated Jack Roy. “Do you want to go ahead and put the battery in now? It will save the weight on walking up ten flights of stairs.”

“Si, yes let’s do that,” cut in Rafael before the other man could answer. He slid off his pack and set it down beside the van. Ciro nodded and took off his own heavy pack, the fuel inside it sloshing around against the plastic sides of the container. They tried all the doors so that they could open the compartment to get to the battery and that they were all locked, as they should have been, pre-fall.

“I’m not carrying that battery further,” announced Rafael. “No mas.”

“You can’t leave it sitting out here,” said Ciro.

Jack Roy looked around them and spied a pickup truck with a cap. He walked over and tested the lid; it opened with a squeak, revealing a cluttered, but mostly empty truck bed.

“We can stash the battery and fuel in here,” he told them. “That way we can go up to the offices, look for the keys to this thing and not have to worry about them laying out in the open.”

Ciro nodded. “It sounds good. Let’s do this.”

After stashing the battery and fuel, Dairo and Jack Roy lead them to the walkway over the street which led into the Belle Meade building. This time there were no fiends walking the streets below, and the trip across—while leaving them feeling exposed again—was faster and done on two feet rather than hands and knees. Once inside the building, they all began to relax. There was no feeling that anyone or anything had been there since Jack Roy and Dairo had left lit two days before. A quick check of the doors showed that they were still locked on the street level and the impromptu fire outside in the courtyard had not been kindled since they had left. Pulling out the flashlight, Jack Roy switched it on and opened the door to the stairwell.

“Gentlemen, shall we?” he asked as he shined the beam into the darkness.

Rafael peered into the darkness beyond the reach of the light and then looked at Jack Roy.

“How far up?”

“Ten floors.”

“Can I stay here and guard the doors?” wondered the other man. Ciro pushed past him.

“Vamos a ir como,” he spat at the smaller man.

“Vete a la mierda,” returned Rafael at the mans back. The only response Ciro gave him was to flip him off as he took the first set of stairs. Rafael sighed. “I hate this shit.”

“We all do,” assured Jack Roy as he started up the stairs himself.
Image
http://www.milcopptactical.com/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

User avatar
Spazzy
* * *
Posts: 391
Joined: Mon May 13, 2013 1:19 pm
Location: Chesapeake, VA

Re: Jack Roy

Post by Spazzy » Tue Mar 10, 2015 2:35 pm

Sweet! Thanks!
Overheard at my USN retirement ceremony....
"So he's not a team player then?"
"You mean Spazz...? Hes not even a fan of the team."

223shootersc
* *
Posts: 293
Joined: Sat Jul 11, 2009 11:48 am

Re: Jack Roy

Post by 223shootersc » Tue Mar 10, 2015 4:48 pm

Good stuff, glad you came back, thanks :clap:

Post Reply

Return to “Fiction”