Bretz shrugged. “You say that like it’s something different.”
“At least one thing’s different,” the Private replied, wiggling his can in the air. “This one is starting out good.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Just another walk in the park, ay boys?” Copeland said, clasping his hands together as he looked out over the moonlit residential areas of Spokane.
Moss shook his head as he caught brief glimpses of creatures moving below. “Guess I missed those nighttime zombie raids in the sandbox,” he joked. “Must have been before my time with you guys.”
“Regardless of what we encounter during this raid, I doubt it’ll surpass the horror of the party raid,” Dawson piped up.
Moss raised an eyebrow. “Party raid?”
“Times like that I wish I was a drinking man, so I could kill those brain cells,” Copeland said, all humor gone from his pallid face.
“What the hell happened?” Moss demanded.
Mack took a deep breath. “We were in some small province in the middle of fucking nowhere and got intel from what was supposed to be a trusted asset,” he began. “Claimed there was a terror cell making IEDs in this mansion on the outskirts of town.”
“Or whatever passed for a mansion in that godforsaken part of the world,” Dawson added.
Mack nodded, motioning to his friend with agreement. “Anyway, we’re monitoring the situation from outside, using thermal gear, and we see a huge mass in the center of the building that’s reading heat that’s off the charts. We’re thinking we’ve hit the jackpot, and found a major operation.”
“Given the heat, we were assuming they had something big brewing, and we didn’t have time to wait,” Copeland said, and cleared his throat, eyes downcast. “I made the unfortunate decision to take the objective ourselves, and not wait for backup.”
Moss’ eyes were wide as saucers. “So what was in there?”
“Dawson, you wanna tell him?” the Sergeant asked.
“Hell no,” Dawson replied, putting up his hands. “I still have PTSD flashbacks from that night.”
Mack patted him on the shoulder. “I got you, man,” he said, and then turned back to Moss. “So yeah, we breach the perimeter and get to the door easily. No defenses should have been a clue, but we were committed at this point. The Sergeant here kicked in the door, and led the charge inside. Took about two seconds for the smell to hit us, with the horrifying visuals catching up shortly after that.”
There was a moment of tense silence, and Moss waved his hands wildly, looking back and forth between his team. “Well, what the fuck was it?!”
Mack sighed. “It was a fifteen person orgy.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Moss replied, “regardless of where this happened at.”
“It was so much worse than you could imagine,” Mack groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Just… fifteen people living in a town with no running water and a constant hundred and fifteen degrees during the day. All doing… that.”
Copeland shook his head with a grimace. “And not a looker in the bunch. Not that I spent much time inspecting the participants once I realized there was no threat.”
Dawson just shuddered at the memory.
“So, how did your contact get his information that screwed up?” Moss asked.
Dawson grunted. “Oh no, he knew exactly what he was doing,” he replied. “Turns out his sister was married to the owner of the house, and he wanted to teach him a lesson for hosting these immoral parties.”
“Kinda glad I missed that operation,” Moss said quietly.
Mack nodded, deadpan. “You should be.”
The moon reflected off of the tall buildings of the downtown core.
“All right boys,” Benny came over the radio, “we almost to your stop. I’ll get as low as I can, but you’ll have to rope it the rest of the way.”
The group looked around for line hooks, but they didn’t see any.
“Where are we hooking up at?” Copeland asked.
Benny motioned vaguely with his hand. “Flip down that back wall panel,” he instructed.
Mack rooted around and found the panel, pushing the door down. Behind it were some high-quality mounting brackets, and he nodded with appreciation.
“Should be some rope underneath the seats too, if you need it,” Benny added.
Dawson shook his head. “We’ve got our own lines, but we appreciate the offer,” he said.
“You get a lot of demand for rappelling out of your choppers?” Copeland asked, skepticism in his voice as he inspected the brackets.
Benny barked a laugh. “First time that’s being used, actually,” he admitted. “But I flew in ‘Nam and I learned real quick to be prepared for any situation.”
The Sergeant leaned back, reaching out a closed fist towards the pilot, who gave him an enthusiastic fist bump back.
“Glad you with us,” Copeland said.
Benny grinned. “Right back atcha!” he declared. “Now y’all go kick some zombie ass!”
The chopper hovered about eight feet over the apartment complex roof. Copeland dropped a duffel bag filled with food and medical supplies, and then the four men hopped out in unison, rappelling down quickly and detaching.
The Sergeant gave Benny an exaggerated wave, giving him the all clear, and the chopper rose up, disappearing up into the darkness. The men did a quick sweep of the cluttered roof, bits of concrete everywhere.
“Clear!” Mack announced first, and met Copeland by the stairwell door. The others declared their areas clear and circled around to join them.
“Main target is three floors down, room twelve-eighteen,” the Sergeant said as he checked his weapon. “We eliminate hostiles before attempting contact with survivors. Firing is on my signal. We ready?”
They all nodded, and they flipped down their night-vision eyepieces, each with a green lens covering one eye.
“Then let’s move,” Copeland said, and gave Mack the signal to open the door.
The Private flung it open, his Sergeant leading the way inside. He checked the top landing quickly, and then focused on the stairs, sweeping with his gun. He moved quietly down the steps, stepping lightly, and approached the first door. He tugged on it gently, making sure that it was latched and secure before heading down to the target door.
As the team reached the third floor, he gave a silent countdown, and then Mack opened the door for him. The Sergeant hurried through, still not making a sound, boots muffled on the carpet. The hallway was fairly narrow, with only two and a half of his own broad shoulder lengths separating the sides.
Copeland stopped and held up a fist to stop the team, noting a few dozen zombies about halfway up the hallway, all paying attention to a single apartment. The area was completely black with zero lighting, which thankfully blanketed the soldiers under cover of darkness.
The Sergeant crept forward to where two hallways met, and peered around the corner. There were another dozen creatures about a third of the way up, against a specific apartment door. He motioned for the team to back up to the stairwell door, and the quartet moved silently back, closing the door as quietly as possible behind them.
“That looks like fun,” Dawson whispered.
Mack shook his head. “Looked like dozens of them in front of us. How did the side hallway look?”
“Dozen, maybe a few more,” Copeland replied.
“How do you want to tackle it, Sarge?” Dawson asked.
Copeland thought for a moment, putting a hand to his chin, and then noticed an evacuation map on the back of the stairwell door. It showed that the hallways connected to each other in a large square. He grinned and tapped the sheet.
“I say we hit and run,” he said. “Dawson, Mack, you two will be with me clearing the side hallway. Moss, you start picking off some from that main group. When they start coming our way, we backtrack down the hall until we pick them all off.”
Dawson cocked his head. “And if there are more
in the other hallways?”
“Risk we’re going to have to take,” Copeland admitted. “Too many of them to fight if we’re all just in the stairwell here.”
Mack chewed his lip for a moment. “There going to be enough room in that hallway for the three of us to operate?” he asked. “That thing is tight.”
“Gotta love these old buildings, fucking narrow passageways,” Dawson muttered.
“It’s gonna be close, but we can manage,” the Sergeant assured him. “I’ll take point and you two flank me on the walls. Just don’t shoot me.”
Dawson nodded. “I’m game.”
“Then let’s move,” Copeland said, and raised his rifle. They silently moved back into the hallway, taking a hard right turn at the crossway. He looked back to see Moss in position, and the Private gave him a thumbs up to let him know that he was ready to rock.
Copeland took aim at a zombie that was about fifteen yards ahead of him, taking a beat or two to make sure that his two companions had a target in their sights as well. When the first shot rung out, it echoed loudly, resonating against the brick facade. Every zombie within earshot stopped what it was focused on and whipped around, turning towards the sound in the darkness.
The trio of soldiers began rapid firing, plugging corpse after corpse in the head and dropping them to the floor. As the horde thinned, the Sergeant moved up, closer and closer to the door they clustered around.
Meanwhile, Moss had opened fire on the massive horde in the main hall. He was able to hit a few in the head before the cluster started barreling towards him. He took careful aim, careful not to waste any shots, but began to move back as he fired as the zombies got too close for comfort. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the others just finishing up with their own dozen down the side hallway.
Copeland banged on the door that the zombies had revealed as they fell. There was no response.
“If anybody is alive in there, stay put!” he barked loudly. “We’re military and we’re here to help, but we got work to do first!”
“Sergeant!” Mack yelled, and Copeland turned to look.
At the fart end of the hallway, there were several zombies pouring around the side of it. Most of them were badly injured, grotesque creatures that looked like they’d been heavily fed on before reanimating. They dragged their chewed up limbs and screamed from mouths that were mostly bone and blood.
“You two, help Moss!” Copeland said, and stepped towards the new horde. He began firing, hitting the first two in the head at thirty yards. The creatures kept coming, flowing into the hallway, even at the slow dragging place. He was able to shoot several more, but they were steady, and when they were about fifteen feet away, he turned to look at the rest of his men, still fighting a horde of their own.
He grunted and changed tactics. He chose the zombie closest to him, and began firing at the ones directly behind it. He dropped corpse after corpse, and then when the tall ghoul in a bloodied business suit reached him, he plugged it in the face and then lifted it up into the air by the collar and belt. He raised the body to chest level and then shoved it into the coming line of zombies.
The creature was just tall enough to nearly block the entire hallway, though not effectively. Ghouls pressed up against the rotted barricade, reaching over it to slash wildly at the SErgeant. They shrieked and gnashed in frustration, and he tried to keep his face well back from the groping hands. He struggled against the weight of the throng, but occasionally would pull back and use the dead businessman as a battering ram.
The other three kept a constant fire rate, hitting zombie after zombie in their hallway. When it was down to just a last few, Dawson glanced over to see what Copeland was struggling with.
“Holy fuck, Sarge!” he cried, and then smacked Mack on the shoulder. “Quick, finish these fuckers off, we gotta move this way!”
The duo picked up the pace as Dawson rushed over to help his Sergeant. As he got there, he fired on a blonde in yoga clothes trying to push between the businessman’s legs.
“Sarge, we’re clear back here, let’s move!” he called.
Copeland nodded and gave one good heave, throwing the zombie like a sack of potatoes into the group. It didn’t knock any of them down, but bought them enough time to retreat to the crossroads of the hallway.
“Mack, get to the other side and make sure we don’t have any other surprises,” the Sergeant instructed as the last of the original horde fell. The newly formed trio began firing on the oncoming wave, slowing down the mass of rotted flesh at thirty yards.
As bodies fell, Copeland glanced over his shoulder as Mack swept the far hall, turning and giving him a thumbs up before heading back their way. The Sergeant smacked Moss and Dawson on the shoulders.
“We’re clear this way,” he said. “Let’s get on the other side of these bodies to finish them off. They’ll have a hard time navigating it.”
The two men nodded and headed up onto the carpet of corpses. They bided their time, waiting for the creatures to climb over their fallen brethren. One by one, the soldiers shot each of them down, until finally the hallway fell silent.
Mack let out a deep whoosh of breath as he lowered his rifle. “Man, that went a little haywire there.”
“What are you talking about?” Dawson grinned. “That went just like we planned, just with a minor delay.”
Mack threw his hands up. “Forty more zombies showing up wasn’t in the plan, and sure as hell wasn’t a minor delay!”
“Still, the fallback method worked well, I think,” Dawson insisted.
Mack rubbed his temples and shook his head.
Copeland smacked him on the shoulder. “All right boys, let’s see who’s still alive in here.” He inclined his head. “Dawson, you check the other apartment and bring anyone back here.”
Inside room 1218, the living room was a complete disaster. It was lit only by candlelight and the soldier’s flashlights as they calmed down the inhabitants inside. A shell shocked young couple, an older gentleman and a woman in a business suit sat on the couch, and the soldiers got them drinking water and eating some dry food from the supply bag. Mack and Moss headed into the bedroom to assist two middle-aged people who had fallen ill from living in filth and poor nutrition for two weeks.
“Found one more, Sarge,” Dawson said as he entered the apartment with a lone twenty-something male following closely behind. “Hiding out in that other apartment.”
Copeland nodded. “And the rest of the floor?”
“Nothing,” Dawson replied. “Nobody responded to knocks, so between that and the gunfire, either nobody is home or they’re deaf.”
The woman in the business suit approached them, running her fingers through her dark dingy hair as she brushed it behind her ears. “Thank you so much for coming to our rescue. We haven’t had food or good water in days.”
“It’s our pleasure, ma’am,” Copeland replied. “That’s why we signed up to do this.”
“Please, call me Martina,” she said, waving her hands in front of her. “Ma’am makes me feel old.”
The Sergeant smiled. “Okay, Martina. Can you answer some questions for me?”
“I can try.” She shrugged.
“Do you know of any other survivors in the complex?” he asked.
She shook her head and motioned to the new guy. “I’m sorry, we didn’t even know that he was alive, and he was just down the hall from us.”
“It was that bad here?” Dawson asked.
Martina nodded. “We’re lucky to be alive,” she said. “Frankly, it was dumb luck that any of us are here.” She took a sip of her water. “I was running a few minutes late to work, and had a little too much fun the night before… if you know what i mean.” She wiggled the water bottle as if it were a beer. “I was riding the elevator down with Jerry over there, and as we got close to the lobby, we heard all sorts of commotion. We didn’t know what was going on, it almost sounded like a riot.
“When the doors finally opened, s
everal people shoved their way inside, screaming about closing the doors. Or just screaming. I got pushed to the back, and could barely see out into the lobby, but it was more than enough. I saw blood, a couple of bodies, and then something I’ll never be able to unsee. The receptionist… a pretty blonde girl who…” She paused and swallowed hard. “You know, I can’t even remember her name. I lived here for two years, saw her every day… and just never bothered to learn her name… hate to think what that makes me look like as a person.
“Anyway. I could see her struggling to get away from this rabid looking man who had a hold of her arm. She was screaming and thrashing, trying to break free, but she couldn’t. A moment later, two other… of those things ran over and tackled her. The doors to the elevator shut just as one of them sunk their teeth into her neck.” She shuddered, taking a deep breath. “Everybody was in shock in the elevator, standing there silent. I don’t even remember hitting the button to this floor, honestly. When they opened, we all kind of snapped back into reality. We heard a scream at the far end of the hallway, so I ran to my apartment and everyone followed me. We piled in here, barricaded the door, and have been here ever since.”
Copeland put a hand on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” he said gently. “But you kept your head about you, and because of that there are five other people who are alive. You did well, Martina.”
She smiled, even though her eyes were still sallow. “Do you need anything else from me?”
“No, we’ve got everything we need,” he assured her. “Thank you for your help.”
She nodded and headed back over to the couch, sitting down and accepting some kind of protein bar from Jerry.
Dawson looked at his watch. “We’ve got about three hours until our ride gets here,” he said. “What do you want to do, Sarge?”
“Take Moss and do a sweep of the floors below us,” Copeland instructed. “I’ll check out the two above us. If you find survivors, get them staged in a single apartment. If there's heavy resistance, make it down and we’ll tackle it as a squad. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we’ll get everyone to the lobby to transport.”
Dead America The Second Week (Book 12): Dead America, Heartland Pt. 5 Page 2
