by Brown, TW
“That’s a negative, over.”
“I’m rolling in five, so find a way down here and let’s put this place behind us, over,” Joel replied.
He turned and started back for the shuttle van. Along the way he had to shove away a few zombies, but he barely paid them any mind. His thoughts were focused on the next step.
“You sure you want to just walk away from this place?” the radio squawked after a moment.
Joel paused and glanced back. They’d left the top floor and were out of sight. Obviously they were seeing a trove of items worth taking. Perhaps these two would be a good start to his ultimate objective.
“What is the risk reward assessment?” Joel finally shot back after he climbed into the shuttle and scooped his cat up into his lap as he watched the undead stumbling around inside the perimeter of the fallen FEMA site.
As he sat there, he saw something that almost made him angry with himself for not having come to the conclusion earlier. Moving down the aisle of the shuttle, Joel scanned the situation and smiled at the simplicity.
“If you are not in a bad situation, hold your positions and take a moment to prioritize the best items. I will be coming in hard and fast in a few minutes. Be ready, over.” Joel put Peanut on the dash where the cat promptly yawned, stretched, and then sprawled out in the pool of sunlight.
“What are we supposed to be ready for, over?”
“A fast transfer of goods and hasty departure.”
It only took him a few minutes to lay out his plan. Like good soldiers, they didn’t interrupt or ask a lot of meaningless questions. They took in the information and used that to determine what needed to be done.
4
Field Tests
Joel keyed the radio twice as the signal that he was ready. He’d left the relative safety and security of the shuttle van once again and he’d spied his objective almost instantly.
After giving the Harley a quick inspection, Joel had stood it up and walked the bike out to the four-way intersection of East Tropicana Avenue and Wilbur Street. His own radio squelched twice in response letting him know that his two new companions were also ready.
It had taken them the better part of an hour to do what needed to be done. He hoped that they’d chosen wisely. It wasn’t like he had anyplace else to be, but he hated wasting time.
Having gotten his cue, Joel started the bike and then gave the throttle a hard twist. The noise was instant and almost ear-splitting after so much relative quiet.
Hurrying away from the two-wheeled noisemaker, Joel made his way to a three-car accident and hid in one of the dark nooks provided by the mess. Already he could see scores of the undead turning in response to this new sound stimulus. He had to hope that the response by the zombies in the area was universal. If a good number of the ones wandering around inside the defunct FEMA site made their way out, it would make gathering the military hardware all that much easier.
As the numbers of the undead gathering around the idling motorcycle grew, Joel got down on his belly and wriggled his way to the other side of the wreck. He emerged in a crease between the front bumper of one vehicle and the passenger side rear door of another. He caught a whiff of zombie that was obviously closer. It wasn’t so bad that it coated his throat, but he could definitely taste it. Luckily, he thought he might be growing somewhat immune to the stink as his stomach simply clenched a little instead of threatening to empty itself.
A soft thud that he felt more than heard came from just above and behind him. He hadn’t spotted anything inside any of the vehicles, but there was no other location for this erratic thump to originate. Being very careful, Joel inched himself up until he could peer inside the passenger window where the sound came from.
“Jesus,” he breathed.
Seated on the floor of the car was a child no older than five or six years old. The ripped-out throat dark with dried and blackened blood advertised its fate. It was looking up at him with its filmed over eyes riddled with the dark tracers and an empty expression just like any other zombie. Only, there was something off about this one, Joel decided.
It took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t making an effort to get at him. It appeared content to remain seated on the floor in the back of the car and stare at him. That was unsettling; almost as much as what the child held clutched in its filthy hands.
Joel allowed his eyes to take in more of the picture he was being presented with inside the vehicle. There were splatters of blood on the inside of the windshield, and the driver’s side window in front had been shattered. Judging by the scraps of cloth and copious amounts of dried blood coating the inside of the door, it was a safe bet that the driver had been dragged out through that gaping hole.
Somehow the child had been bitten and then obviously turned and that is where the real horror of the scene existed. In the back seat were a pair of car seats. One of them had been unfastened and it was bit of a stretch to think that little boy had freed himself from the restraints. Since the undead showed no ability to operate even the most basic of contraptions, it was next to impossible that he’d turned and then let himself out of his car seat.
However, the second car seat was where Joel kept finding his gaze drawn. The remnants of at least two small blankets had been drenched in blood to the point where they were now almost totally solid. One corner stood straight up as if in testament to that fact. Joel found himself cursing that blanket. If it would’ve folded over, then he would not be looking at the partial remains of a body belonging to an infant. If the blanket had given him a reprieve, then all he would’ve had to endure looking at was the tiny arm clutched in the little zombie boy’s hands like a giant turkey drumstick.
Not sure how long he’d been distracted by the terrible sight, Joel finally tore himself away when his radio made a series of electronic pops indicating that his soldiers were trying to signal him. He pushed away from the nightmare diorama and hurried down the access road to his shuttle.
It was parked lengthwise just a few yards back from one of the breaches in the fence just prior to reaching the parking garage structure. Joel climbed on top of it and scanned the area for the two soldiers. When he saw them, he could not hold back the smile. They were standing just outside a long military tent, each of them waving their arms frantically over their heads.
After a single wave back in response and a click of his radio mic button, Joel scurried down and into the shuttle. He turned the engine over and wrenched the wheel around, driving through the gaping hole in the fence. He swerved to avoid or minimize slamming into the staggering corpses that had opted to stick around the FEMA site until he came to a stop at the tent. He opened the front and middle doors and hurried out.
“Pleased to meet—” the soldier wearing the radio headset began, but Joel cut him off.
“Introductions later. Right now let’s load out as much as possible and get out of here.” Joel edged past the pair and into the tent.
Sure enough, it was exactly what he’d been hoping for. This tent was basically the weapons locker for the military that had been here. There were cases and crates stacked neatly, forming aisles to walk down. Most were very clearly stamped with what they contained.
The two soldiers followed him inside and everybody grabbed something based on the priority that they’d agreed upon before undertaking this little mission. In short order, they’d transferred enough into the shuttle to arm a revolutionary resistance.
Joel gave the signal indicating that they were carrying their last load and hurried to deposit the crate of ammo he’d snatched up onto one of the seats. He rushed to the driver’s seat and watched until both of his new cohorts made it inside before shutting the doors and stomping on the gas to hasten their exit. The weight of their cargo did little to help in that matter, but eventually they got up a head of steam.
“As I was saying,” the man with the headset groaned as he slid down into the seat closest to the driver’s, “name’s Will Barnes.”
Joel looked up and made eye contact with the man via the rearview mirror. He let his gaze drift over to the other soldier who was just removing the battle helmet. The brown hair was clumped together from sweat, and the individual’s face was flushed from the heat and exertion, but when they locked eyes, he had a tough time swallowing his surprise.
“Yeah…I’m a woman. You got a problem with it?” the soldier snarled.
“Just a bit old school? Is that the right phrase?” Joel replied with a shrug.
“Where did you serve?” Will piped in, giving a nod to the tattoo on Joel’s forearm.
Joel glanced down at the old and faded ink. The outline of Vietnam with a field knife plunged into the middle poked from beneath his rolled-up sleeve.
“Nam.” Joel had no need to elaborate. The two soldiers were silent in response.
Joel stared out the window at the road ahead. There were already swirls of sand blowing about. He wondered if the entire city might be swallowed by the desert within the next decade or so.
“My name’s Debra,” the female soldier said, finally breaking the silence. “Debra Allen.”
“Where can I take you two?” Joel asked as he nudged the wheel so that the shuttle avoided a trio of the undead stumbling his direction.
“Yeah…” Will let that word draw out a bit. “The thing is, we ain’t exactly looking to go back. We heard enough on the radio to know that the chain of command is broken. Hell, the president is dead, nobody has stepped forward to say a word about who would take over. That leads me to believe that the government is done. Our base was overrun this morning, so we don’t have a command to report to any longer, and well over half our numbers went AWOL in the last three days. I doubt the world’s most powerful army is in existence. Hell, the rumor on the wind is that a lot of units have simply gone rogue or flat out disbanded.”
“What my long-winded friend is trying to say is that we are basically hired guns now.” Debra patted the assault rifle she had draped across her body.
“Hired guns?” Joel scoffed. “What do you think people are going to be able to pay you with? Not much chance that the banks are still open.”
“More ways to collect than just a paycheck.” Debra’s eyes bored into Joel’s. “The way I see it…the world we knew is gone. This is like nothing anybody could’ve ever imagined. Most folks are going to be spending all their time and energy just trying to survive hour to hour.”
Joel liked what he was hearing. It was almost like he was hearing a younger and female version of himself speak through this woman. He guessed her to be in her early thirties. Her eyes were a deep brown, and looked like they had seen a rough journey. They were squinted a bit despite there not being any sun shining in them. She had a downturn to her mouth that looked permanent. He briefly wondered what it would look like if she were to smile.
“Can I say what I am hoping we are all thinking?” Will said with a nervous laugh. “We aren’t talking about running around on the fool’s errand of trying to save people. We are going to secure our piece of the pie and do what needs to be done in order to make certain that we maintain it.”
“Basically we are the bad guys,” Debra added.
“I prefer to look at and refer to us as…pragmatic.” Joel glanced to the left, his eyes drawn by a flurry of movement.
He peered into his sideview mirror and watched as a pair of obviously living beings dashed out into the street in their wake. One of them began jumping up and down, waving both arms overhead in a desperate attempt to get the attention of the shuttle that had just sped past.
Debra stood and turned to look behind them. Joel was impressed. Obviously her senses were on high alert. Will seemed momentarily confused and had to get up and look back to see what had his comrade’s attention.
Joel returned his focus to the mirror offering him a good look at what they were leaving behind. He’d barely taken his foot off the gas when he spotted the fourth member of that group so intent on trying to flag him down. One of the people was holding a child that looked to be perhaps seven or eight years old. He continued to watch as a cluster of shapes came from all directions, homing in on the group, obviously drawn to their pleas for him to stop.
He continued to watch as one of the members of the group advanced on the nearest zombie and brought a large bladed weapon, most likely some sort of machete, down on the crown of the head of the target. Unfortunately for that individual, the rest of the group now seemed frozen in terror as several more simply took the place of the fallen. He was surprised when he heard the first of the screams. He hadn’t heard their calls for help, yet these screams were at an entirely different level, and thus, obviously they carried farther.
His foot returned its original degree of pressure on the gas pedal as the shuttle continued to roll past wrecked or abandoned vehicles, bodies left to rot, staggered groups and singles of the walking dead, and the last vestiges of what people considered to be Las Vegas.
They were now approaching a plethora of apartment buildings, strip malls, and the sorts of buildings you would find in any normal town or city in the United States. This is where the men and women who kept the machines of vice operating full-tilt day and night, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Now, it looked like a war zone. Buildings were either burning or already burnt to the ground in many instances. The undead population also increased.
He had to slow down considerably as they rolled through the intersection of Tropicana and Topaz Street. “We might have a problem,” Joel announced.
Will and Debra crowded in the aisle next to the driver’s seat and stared out the front window at what waited ahead. Up until this point, they’d only encountered packs of the undead numbering no more than twenty or thirty. What seethed and undulated in the parking lot of what had once been a Walmart Superstore just two blocks ahead no doubt numbered in the hundreds.
“We can’t drive through that,” Debra breathed.
“No shit,” Will agreed.
“We can circle around using Hacienda,” Joel announced, wrenching the wheel around to the right and accelerating.
“You really think going out to the dam is the smart play?” Will asked, his hands fidgeting nervously with the M4 dangling at his side from the shoulder tether.
“I do,” Joel confirmed as he swerved around a nasty collision in the middle of the road and then hooked to the left to start up East Hacienda Avenue.
Up ahead, they could see what looked like a military road block. If not for the dozen undead staggering around the tan military vehicles—many wearing military fatigues—it might’ve been a successful mirage of hope. Joel slowed as they came up to a Humvee with the doors open. A lone figure remained “in” the vehicle. A machine gun turret mounted on top still had its crew member.
Joel stopped the shuttle and climbed out despite the protests and confusion being voiced by his two companions. He looked inside and realized that he was only half correct; just as that lone crew member was only half in the vehicle. His lower half had been torn free, and all that remained was the upper stumps of the soldier’s thighs dangling through a harness of some sort.
“We change vehicles here,” Joel announced to Will and Debra.
The pair looked around, assessed the scene, and then went about the methodical and anti-climactic elimination of the undead scattered about. Once again Joel was astounded that something like this zombie apocalypse had managed to not just gain a foothold, but apparently stomp a proper mudhole in civilization.
The ease and efficiency in which the two soldiers eliminated the threat was not even surgical. It was simple. That’s it…just simple. Other than the horde of several hundred milling about up the road near the local Walmart, the zombies had posed no threat as far as Joel could see. A thought niggled in his mind, but he shoved it away before it became a distraction.
As the soldiers dispatched zombies, Joel began transferring their weapons, ammo, and supply haul from the shuttle over to the Humvee. He glanced at his cat
as he came up the steps for his second load. The feline had found a spot on the front seat bathed in the last of the afternoon sun.
“You would not care in the least if you were the last one left,” he muttered, giving Peanut a scratch behind his ear before hustling to grab the next load. Peanut purred in response and shut his eyes.
As soon as the zombies were put down, both Will and Debra rushed over to give Joel a hand moving the last of the gear. Once they had everything, they agreed to check out a few of the vehicles as well as search the soldiers’ corpses for anything useful.
Joel was just finishing a pat down of a female staff sergeant when a loud electronic blast of feedback caused him to jump. His hand was instantly holding his Beretta and he had it leveled at what should be close to center mass of an average adult target.
Will’s hands were in the air and a hint of red creeped up his neck as he blushed in at least moderate embarrassment. Joel made a mental note to himself when he saw that Debra had spun and drawn down as well.
Will gave the hand holding the two-way radio a shake. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was cranked when I powered it on.”
Joel and Debra each holstered their weapons. “You got a list of channels to monitor?” Joel asked as he returned to checking bodies. He hadn’t realized it until just this minute that he’d been unconsciously collecting the dog tags of every soldier he searched.
“I have one,” Debra announced. She patted her left breast pocket. “Hasn’t been updated in a while, but I doubt there has been much in the way of daily call sign and security swaps.”
Joel nodded and the three finished scavenging. Once they were finished, they loaded into the Humvee with Debra assuming the driver’s role after she got the big machine started. Will climbed into the gunner’s perch and, after doing a quick inspection of the weapon, readied the .50 cal. Joel made it a point to remind the soldier to be very sparing of the ammunition until they could locate more since that seemed to be the one type of ammunition that had not been found at the checkpoint, roadblock, or whatever that mess had been.
