Jim just nodded his head and kept his mouth shut.
“You ready?” Laura looked at Donnie and smiled.
Donnie exhaled a large breath and stroked his hair. “Ready as I’ll ever be. You drive, and I’ll man the gun.”
Jim walked outside first, while the others stayed behind out of view. He reached the gate and banged on it a few times to get their attention. The undead crowded around the spot directly in front of him and lanced decayed fingers through the mesh. He started walking to his left and some of them slowly followed. He rattled the gate a few times and more came after him. When he got about twenty paces away, he climbed partially up on the fence and shook it some more. Then all of them scrambled toward him, stepping over each other to get there first. He jumped down just before they reached him and kept walking around the perimeter.
The others watched as Jim led them away. Donnie slid the sawed-off shotgun out the waist of his pants with a slight smile on his face as he watched. “It’s workin’, okay, ready? Go!”
They all ran out at the same time toward the gate. The chain clanked around as Meg sprinted, and slowed her down. Donnie and Laura reached the gate and pulled on it as hard as they could. Just enough of a gap opened up so that they could squeeze through, step up on the Humvee’s bumper, and climb on the roof. They jumped into the turret hatch and drove away before the creatures ever knew what happened. Meg quickly secured the gate and backed away smiling.
“Good job, Jim! You did it!” Her face lit up with a smile as she raised her arms and pointed at him.
Jim turned from the fence shaking his head as the vehicle disappeared below the hill in search of food.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Wow, these things are well put together.” Ron grimaced and wrenched his arms over until the crowbar finally severed the back of a pew from its base. “Okay, just gotta do the other half.” He smiled through labored breaths.
Ann watched him struggle. “You’re still not up to a hundred percent.”.
“I’m fine.”
“You expended more effort and got less tired on our first night together, remember?” She winked and sashayed her hips.
“That was passion, not work.” He jammed the crowbar in the corner between the seat and back of the pew and grunted as he started splitting it apart.
“Maybe you should get more passionate about your work. You’d get a lot more done.” She covered her mouth as she giggled.
“Learn your place woman, or I’ll have to give you a spankin’.”
“Ooooh!”
She laughed for the first time he could remember since before the disaster.
“Are you two kids behaving?” Lewis stood in a doorway with a slight grin on his face and stared.
Ron straightened right up and cleared his throat. “We’ve nearly got it ready here. We just need to hammer this into place.”
“Sounds good, I found the nails and my hammer.” Lewis held up an old coffee can and a claw hammer as he walked in and set them down.
With one last heave Ron split the other end of the pew in two and leaned on his outstretched arm, his breathing labored. “Great, help Ann hold up this piece of wood here if you will.” Ron helped Ann put the board up against the doorway, took the hammer and coffee can, and began sifting through the nails for the right ones. He set aside the longest ones and grabbed the hammer.
Lewis looked at the placement of the board and said, “Explain to me why we’re putting the board like this again.”
“Well, it’s pretty simple really.” He began driving nails into the wood. “With the firepower those guns have, we can easily kill all those things. The problem is, we’ll never get the chance if we get overrun. So I figure this board right across the middle of the doorway will slow ‘em down enough so we can line up our shots, basic combat strategy, really: if their advantage is numbers, then that’s exactly what you negate. One of us can fire over the top and hit the ones standing there pushing, and the other can fire low and drop ‘em as they crawl in.”
“Won’t the bodies pile up?” Lewis cleared his throat.
“Doesn’t matter as long we’re still killin’ and not getting pushed back. Besides, the bodies’ll just get pushed out of the way. If anything, that should just make it easier.” He looked at Ann. “You take top and just aim for as many heads as you can.” He finished hammering, gave her the AA12, and picked up the Tavor. “I’ll take bottom.” He cocked his gun. “Let’s start out close; it’ll make that shotgun a lot more effective. If I yell, fallback, you follow me all right?”
“Got it.” She gave a nod.
“Okay Lewis, you can open the door.” Ron stood in front of the threshold and aimed.
Lewis unlocked it and twisted the handle slowly.
Several grubby fingers wrapped around the door’s edge, and it whined open, letting more light in, and revealed the masses. The undead stood shoulder to shoulder, heads visible extending back for several rows. They all tried to crowd in at the same time, and the lead ones got pinned on the board. The wood creaked uneasily but held.
Aiming, Ron gave the order, “Open fire, Ann!”
She began placing rounds into heads and remains flew back as the buckshot ripped into them. As the bodies dropped and fell, they pushed the crowd back until the uninjured ones trampled limbs and torsos and charged forward again. When Ann stopped to reload, the ones that tried to climb over the board jammed the gap with heads, shoulders, and arms.
Some of the others noticed the space below and started to crawl through. With their heads pointed down right in front of him, Ron easily placed single shots into crown after crown, dumping blood on the floor, which hardly looked different than pouring it from buckets.
Lewis gasped as he watched streams of red flow in and pool on the floor. “Father, forgive us.” He looked up and closed his eyes.
Everything went according to plan until the mob had so much force pushing on the board that it let out a loud creak and one end fell to the floor. When that happened the undead poured through the archway similar to water breaching a dam and ripped the other side off.
“Fallback! Ann, fallback!” Ron backpedaled to the middle of the pews. “Don’t be delicate about it; just shoot ‘em! Lewis, pick that up!” He pointed at the M32 sitting on a pew as they passed it.
“What?”
“Just pick it up, aim, and fire. It’s easy.” Ron continued shooting, not having time to watch Lewis.
Lewis looked the weapon over and pointed the muzzle at the mass of creatures still swarming through the door.
“Do it now!” Ron’s voice shook as he lined up shots.
Lewis pulled the trigger and a Hell Hound flew into the crowd and detonated. The blast threw several bodies sideways, torn open and maimed, with limbs flailing about. The explosion echoed through the nave, giving it the effect of rolling thunder.
“Good! Again, Lewis, don’t let up.” Ron put a bullet into one’s head as it pushed itself off the floor.
Lewis fired again and another round exploded near the entrance, sending more bodies propelling through the air. Some of them got up and others stayed down with limbs missing and heads shredded into mush. One of them struggled to its feet with its chest cavity ripped wide open, but its legs somehow kept going.
Ron put the dot on his sight on anything that moved and made sure to silence it. He stopped to reload as Lewis fired another round. “You okay?” Ron looked at Lewis as he finished reloading and cocked his gun.
Lewis had wide eyes and a red face, possessed with tension, the complete opposite of a seasoned veteran eliminating targets. He fired and another round flew toward the door and scattered several more bodies in various directions. “Get out of my church!”
Ron smiled wryly in Lewis’ direction and could not help but notice the paradox of this deeply religious man firing a grenade launcher. He knew that he would later have to describe him as a warrior of God.
He rejoined Ann shooting at the ones that made it through
the doorway and pursued them down the aisles. With as much damage as they did, they still fought a losing battle because not every shot resulted in a kill. Some of them got back up with parts of their face missing or a graze that had damaged the skull without killing the brain. They only fit into two categories—the dead and the hungry. One second the horde looked devastated, and the next several struggled to their feet, replenishing the numbers. The undead had pushed them almost all the way down the length of the nave, when a loud voice suddenly rang out.
“Get down in there and take cover! We’re going to open fire in five seconds. Five!”
“What?” Ann looked around and frowned.
“Four!”
“In there!” Ron pointed.
“Three!”
Ron led the way, sprinting to the doorway beside the chancel.
“Two!”
As they ran through, he shut it and turned to run. “Get down!”
“One!”
He pushed them to the ground and they all took cover on the floor with their hands over their heads.
✹✹✹
“Fire!” Captain Gruger yelled into a bull horn and whipped his arm forward as he gave the order.
The other soldiers had formed a semi-circle around the doorway. The gunners on the Humvees opened up as well, spraying bullets right through the church walls, ripping the undead apart.
When they had dropped all the ones on the outside the captain spoke into the microphone on his headset. “Cease fire! Light ‘em up!” Two of the soldiers with flamethrowers stepped forward and torched the ones lying on the ground. They sprayed a few blasts inside and stepped back. A few of the undead came stumbling the way one would imagine giant, bipedal matchsticks. The soldiers raised their guns to finish them.
“Don’t waste the bullets,” came blaring into their earpieces.
The group watched them fall down and burn until they stopped moving.
The captain adjusted his mouth piece and thrust his arm forward. “Clear the room!”
Several soldiers punched through the doorway with rifles checking corners, quickly covering every direction. Some single shots rang out, then after a few seconds one of them came back to the doorway and waved. “Clear!”
The whole convoy dismounted and went inside the church. The inside, as well as out, had more in common with a slaughterhouse than a place of worship.
Captain Gruger made his way to the back and opened the door beside the chancel. He saw the three lying on the floor. “It’s safe. You can come out now.”
“Boy, are we glad to see you!” Ron stood up and shook the captain’s hand while smiling. “They nearly had us overrun.”
Captain Gruger looked down and saw Ron’s guns and raised his eyebrows. “Nice hardware.”
“Oh yeah…ummm.” Ron scratched the back of his head.
The captain silenced him with a smile. “Under the circumstances, I think it’s the least of our worries. Come on.” He smiled and led them out.
Before exiting Ron went back and opened up a door. Cassius came walking out, eyes squinting and tail wagging.
They entered the sanctuary and one of the soldiers saw the dried blood on Cassius’ backside. “Hey, what happened to your dog’s shoulder?”
Ron’s face tightened. “One of those damn things bit him.”
Instantly all the soldiers raised their guns and trapped Cassius behind a wall gun barrels. Captain Gruger stepped forward and laid a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “I’m sorry mister, but you’ll have to step away from your dog.”
“What? No! What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Ron’s face turned bright red and quivered as he stepped in front of Cassius.
“He’s been bitten. We have explicit orders to terminate bite victims immediately.”
“Bite victims, what?”
“Because they’ll turn.”
“Turn? Whatta you mean?”
“Into one of those wretched things, the dead risen.”
“How long’s that take?.”
“A day or less.”
“It’s been almost three.”
“What? That’s impossible!”
Ann pushed her way forward and stood next to Cassius. “It’s true, he got bitten before we came here. Ask the Reverend, he lives here. I’m sure he can vouch for how long it’s been since we arrived.”
Lewis cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Yes, that’s right, they came a couple days ago, and I did notice the dog was already injured.”
Captain Gruger turned and scratched his chin. “Perhaps a carrier then, Westerly! Radio headquarters and tell them we’ve got a confirmed bite nearly three days old without infection.”
“Yes sir!” He ran outside.
Captain Gruger turned back to Ron. “Haven’t you seen what happens when one of those things bites somebody?”
“No, we stayed locked down in my basement for the first few days and then found this place. Lewis here was the first person we saw, apart from those things of course.”
“Goddamn son, didn’t you see them eating anyone, or notice any of them that looked like an animal tore ‘em apart?”
“I guess so, now that you mention it. I was so busy survivin’, guess I thought they did it to each other.”
“They did, but once they’ve risen, they don’t rip each other’s faces off or pull out each other’s innards anymore. They rise back up and join the pack, and they're always hungry.”
Ron shuffled his feet a little bit and looked at the floor. He was about to speak as the soldier came running back in from outside.
“Sir, they said to capture it and bring it back with us for inspection.”
Ron’s head shot up. “Inspection? What are you gonna do to my dog?”
“Relax Mister…?” Gruger held his hand up.
“Hawkins, just call me Ron.”
“Okay Ron, you can relax. They’re just going to take a blood sample, I’m sure. They don’t need to inspect his organs or anything. We’re still pretty much in the dark here, but we do know that some sort of pathogen has invaded the blood of these creatures. The military has scientists working around the clock to cure it.”
“Just like the common cold huh?”
“Let’s hope they can do a helluva lot better than that, for the sake of us all, let’s hope.”
The radio soldier put his hands behind his back. “One more thing, Sir.”
Gruger looked up at him with steely eyes. “Yeah?”
“If we come across a bite victim or suspect someone is a recent Zulu we need to capture and detain it for the lab.”
Ron’s forehead creased, “Zulu?”
The captain nodded. “Got it.” He turned to Ron and straightened his hat. “Zulu, it’s the military alphabet, a zombie. We also call ‘em Whiskey Deltas for walking dead, Uniforms for undead, Romeos for revenants, Tango’s for targets, and when you wanna be really cool you can string something together like Whiskey Romeo Tango.”
Ron scratched his chin. “Huh, Romeo’s kind of catchy, sounds a bit like roaming around.”
The captain started for the door. “As long as it’s a Romeo with a bullet in the brain, I’m a fan too.”
When they went outside Captain Gruger radioed headquarters one more time. After a few seconds of listening to a voice he said, “Yes Sir, roger that, ETA one hour, yes, we’re making good progress. We just killed a pack and rescued three survivors, the first. I’m sure we’ll find more too. Thank you, Sir, over and out.” Captain Gruger turned to his troops and raised his voice. “All right, listen up! We’re not goin’ home yet. We’ve been ordered to push due east up to the Cherokee National Forest, then return to base. Mount up!”
A couple heads sank as they climbed into their vehicles and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust behind that settled on a trail of devastation.
✹✹✹
“Colonel, what’s the status of our troops’ morale?” General Riggs sat at the head of a long, wooden table, surrounded by other senior
officers, as he looked over at Colonel Lackland and raised his eyebrows. They sat in a meeting room that formed part of a complex carved into a mountain in the Midwestern United States. It had served as their temporary home since a week before the impact, and had protected them from the violent aftermath. Even better, they and many other career officers had their families safely secured inside as well. A majority of the planet could not say the same.
Colonel Lackland had a full head of close cropped, white hair, and his military fatigues hung loosely on a slight frame. His face seemed to point down starting at his widow’s peak to his saggy eyes and down to his pointy chin. His only stand out feature was his steely gray eyes which seemed to shoot out and defeat his droopy features and demand more respect. He leaned forward and cleared his throat. “It’s holding for now, Sir, but we need to come up with some incentives to keep them happy.”
The other officers at the table leaned back. A couple of them exchanged glances then quickly turned back and studied the General’s face.
“Incentives?” The General frowned and placed his hands on the table. “Of what kind?”
“Well, Sir, you see with everything so broken as it is…no money, no time off, no going home, no homes to return to, rather, they might lose sight of what they’re fighting for.”
The General ground his index finger into the table. “Isn’t being a survivor, thanks to the Army, enough?”
Lackland wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead and swallowed noticeably.
“Yes Sir, the best of reasons, of course. What I mean is, we just need to give their morale a little bit of a boost is all. Just to make sure they stay in tip-top shape for the long road ahead.”
“All right, what do you have in mind?” The General leaned back and crossed his arms.
Lackland nodded slightly and straightened his collar. “I’ve looked at it from every angle and tried to put myself in their shoes. Most of them have lost families, their entire lives. Right now they’re running on hatred alone, but emotions can fade, and hatred can become despair. We can’t afford to let this happen. First, I propose that we create a micro-economy and start paying them in credits, like a country within a country.”
The Inroad Chronicles (Book 1): Legion Seed Page 27
