by Brown, TW
At last they stopped in front of what could’ve been any other house in the neighborhood if you did not pay attention to the seven towers of varying height that aided in the transmission and reception of radio messages.
The center had been set up for the dual purpose of staying in touch with the portion of their population still at the dam as well as to monitor for anything else that might be out there. So far, the radio traffic had been almost nil. None of it seemed to originate from the Las Vegas region. That surprised Joel since he figured the religious nuts he’d had that run in with a few weeks back might be attempting to lure people in to swell their numbers.
Joel walked inside the house-turned-radio-room. It was noticeably cooler from the six high-powered air conditioning units that were set up to keep all the electronics cool. If a person were so inclined, they could almost pretend that the world was normal. All they would need to do is look past the racks of ready-to-use firearms, machetes, spiked bats, assorted compound bows as well as crossbows.
He was not even all the way down the entry hall that would take him to the wide-open living and dining room where desks lined the walls when he could hear what sounded like a radio drama of an epic battle. An assortment of radios and even a couple of CBs were set up and monitored around the clock. A group of people were all clustered around two of the stations. Some were scribbling notes that would likely be transcribed into the daily logs later, but others were simply listening.
“…south entrance is breached, we have them in the building!” a woman’s voice was practically screaming.
“…a grenade just destroyed the east fire exit…more incoming…I repeat, we have a breach on the east!” The person making this report barely sounded old enough to have reached puberty, but he seemed amazingly calm considering what he was reporting.
“Fall back to the upper floors!” another person ordered. “We need to get the fires under control and then secure the upper floors. We can seal them off but the fires need to be extinguished,” a familiar voice barked.
Joel knew the voice of Conrad Parks well. He struggled to tamp down the guilt that tried to rise through the morass of his already burdened conscience. He’d been so close, yet unable to render assistance. And now, his sentence was to listen to what would likely be the death of a man he’d known literally since the day he was born. A young man he’d promised to care for as if he were his own son.
“And there was war in heaven…Michael and his angels fought against the dragon,” another familiar voice began to bellow. Joel could almost hear the fervor that he knew would be in the woman’s eyes. Obviously they hadn’t put that group down. “…and the dragon fought and his angels. And prevailed not…neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world…he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him. And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, ‘Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ!’ For the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony, and they loved not their lives unto the death. Therefore rejoice, ye heavens, and ye that dwell in them. Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and of the sea! For the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time.”
“Is she quoting Iron Maiden?” a man muttered.
“The Book of Revelations,” Joel said, causing all heads to turn. “Foxholes and prison cells are a breeding grounds for religion. I read the Bible a few times when I was in the shit.”
“Do we respond?” the woman sitting at the radio asked, her voice displaying just a hint of anxiousness.
“Not over the airwaves,” Joel replied with a grimness etched into his features.
He was angry with himself. He knew better than to leave an enemy in a position to get under your skin. He should’ve dealt with this group with absolute finality when he’d encountered them. After all, they were acting like a stereotype, so why wouldn’t they go whole hog and play the role of some sort of End Times rapture cult?
“So we just let them—” Debra started, the anger in her voice not masked in the least.
“We don’t let them do a damn thing,” Joel snapped, cutting her off.
When this was over, he was going to have to sit the woman down and have a discussion with her about how to address him in front of the others, but for now, he would utilize her hotheaded anger and aggression to his benefit.
“I am going back.”
Joel glanced around the room until he saw what he was looking for. Walking over, he picked up the mic that would broadcast via a series of speakers that were mounted on some of the streetlights around the community.
“Attention, all residents. In thirty minutes, I will be departing the community. I will not be asking for anybody to join me, but I will not stop those who wish to come. I will be driving back to the main Strip. My intention is to engage and completely eliminate a group of cultists that might represent a future danger to this community. As they are a considerable distance, this is mere speculation on my part.”
He paused, knowing what he was about to say, but wanting to let the tension he could already feel just in the radio room grow among those who were listening. He caught sight of Debra out of the corner of his eye and had to suppress a smile when she leaned forward while waiting for him to continue. He hoped that his words were having that effect on at least a few dozen others.
“I must also admit that I have a personal and vested interest in this trip that goes against our community doctrine. I am going in with the hopes of rescuing and bringing back a personal friend. Those of you who have ventured close to the Strip know that it is thick with the walking dead, and I am hoping to extract my friend from the MGM Grand Signature Towers. In the event that I do not return, we have protocols in place to continue on. This community is bigger than any single person and I trust that you all will continue to keep what is best for the whole in mind as you move forward.”
Joel set the mic back in the cradle and turned to face the room. The sounds of chaos were still flooding the room from the assorted speakers, but nobody seemed to be paying them any attention any longer. The focus of the room was on him.
“There is no way in hell you are going out there without me,” Debra said as she crossed over and stood beside him.
No sooner had she done so when the front door to the radio center slammed open. “Don’t even think about leaving here without me!” Malik bellowed as he jogged into the main room. He paused when the sounds of screaming and shouting blared from one of the radios, signaling that at least one position had just been overrun.
Joel patted the man on the shoulder and then headed for the exit. He could still hear Conrad’s voice coming through in between bits and pieces of a fire-and-brimstone sermon that promised eternal death and suffering for “the sinners, blasphemers, and fornicators” while extolling the so-called believers to fight and “bring all glory to God” with an underlying soundtrack of screams that ranged from pain-filled to panic-stricken.
Ten minutes later Joel stood before over forty members of the community that had all rushed out in full battle gear. He’d actually had to send Malik to his house to retrieve his own weapons and equipment since he’d just thrown on a set of fatigues without thinking to arm himself for the field.
Debra had jogged off with a few people to get vehicles from what had been dubbed, the Barn. It was a single plot where a house had once stood but had burned down perhaps in the first days of the apocalypse because the fire had been contained and it had obviously been put out by the fire department. That was a luxury that ended much sooner than many people would’ve imagined. Now it was mostly just an empty lot and made the perfect spot to park vehicles centrally for the compound.
Once everybody was loaded into vehicles with Joel in
his familiar seat of the Humvee that Debra would be driving and Malik in the turret manning the machine gun, the convoy rolled out. They had to use the south end of the community near Joel’s home, and drove through the opened gate, the security waving them through and then pulling the massive iron gate shut with a haste as if they feared zombies might pop up from the sagebrush and come for them.
They skirted wide and then reached Highway 93 which they would follow until it changed over to Interstate 515. The plan was to follow that interstate until they arrived at the junction of Interstates 515 and 215.
As they rolled through Boulder City, there were still a few fires burning, but most had finally extinguished on their own. Looking west, Joel spotted a dark smudge on the horizon that hinted at what might be the first big spring rain. Most likely, it would be a sudden torrential rain accompanied by thunder and lightning. If he was the sort to believe in omens, he might feel a hint of trepidation as they headed towards the now dead city of Las Vegas, Nevada.
They were almost at the edge of what constituted Boulder City when a flash erupted from Joel’s right. The truck in front of him lit up with white flame just a heartbeat later. Debra swore as she swerved to the left and crossed the median that dipped just enough to create a bit of a culvert. They rolled up the other side, all four tires leaving the ground briefly before coming down with a jarring rattle.
“Holy fuck!” Malik shouted loud enough to be heard not only in Joel’s ear piece, but above the roar of the ensuing explosion that consumed the transport truck and the revving engine of the Humvee.
“Bandits incoming at our three o’clock!” Will’s voice came over the radio. “Somebody found serious hardware, boss.”
Joel had to wrench himself around in his seat to see as Debra shot across the highway and down the slight embankment, obviously in an attempt to keep them shielded from incoming fire. Once again, Joel had to admit being impressed with the woman, all thoughts of scolding her for her earlier impertinence a distant memory.
Joel thought he caught a glimpse of a vehicle with some sort of rocket launcher on top. The vehicle was briefly masked by white smoke as three more missiles fired in quick succession. The contrails led to a second truck which practically evaporated in a ball of flame.
“We got trouble at about zero-four-zero relative,” Joel barked.
The sound of the turret adjusting could be heard, quickly followed by the hammering chatter of the .50 caliber machine gun. Joel grabbed his field glasses and sighted in on the target. It didn’t look at first like the machine gun would penetrate the vehicle’s armor. He was about to call Malik off when he saw a series of five-round bursts walk up the hood of the vehicle and then shatter the front window. Whatever resistance the vehicle had designed into it to protect the soldiers manning it, apparently a direct barrage of rounds from a .50 cal was not part of the equation. Something dark sprayed the windshield from the inside and the vehicle started to roll forward and at a slight angle as the driver slumped over the wheel.
Small-arms fire sounded from the same direction the now disabled missile launching vehicle crept along, apparently impotent and out of the picture at the moment. Joel pointed that direction and Debra jerked the wheel around, sending the Humvee in a bit of a power slide as her foot never came off the gas. Once again they were airborne for a heartbeat or two before bouncing down on the highway’s blacktop. Then they tipped over the edge and plunged down into the culvert, angling just enough to keep from bottoming out as they came up on the other side.
“Ease up a bit down there!” Malik shouted.
If Debra heard him, she gave no indication as she accelerated across the highway and this time flew off the edge, the engine suddenly revving as all four wheels left the ground for a few seconds. Just after they landed, Malik opened up with the machine gun again. Joel searched to locate whatever target the young man had spied and his eyes caught the puffs of dirt as the rounds walked along the ground until they came to the side of a non-descript tan house. The rounds slammed into an area right beside a large window and Joel swore he saw a dark shadow flutter at the edges for a moment before disappearing.
One of the remaining transport trucks rolled up beside them and came to a loud, screeching halt. A cloud of smoke and dust billowed up and almost completely obscured the front of the vehicle as men and women threw themselves from the rear of it. The former occupants split into two teams, each one sprinting up the side of the stopped transport vehicle, all of them crouched over to minimize their silhouette.
Obviously somebody had seen something and given instructions because both teams converged on a single residence a couple of houses down from the one that Malik was still pouring rounds into. Joel went to open his door.
“Stay put, boss,” Debra said quietly.
“Excuse me?” Joel turned to the woman who was easing her own door open.
“We got this.” She threw off her harness and leapt to the ground, her shotgun coming off her shoulder in one fluid motion.
They’d come to a stop just a few feet from a rock wall that fenced in the residence Malik had finally stopped chopping to bits with the .50 cal. Joel barely had time to register that a person was popping up behind that wall when the woman brought the weapon to her hip and fired. At close range, a human head—living or undead—stands no chance of enduring the blastoff a shotgun.
Scanning the area, so far there were few of the walking dead, but with all this noise, that would change in a hurry. This was supposed to be the next phase of their systematic taking of Boulder City. Now that he was getting a closer look, a lot of the homes had pretty serious damage.
He was so intent on keeping his eyes open for any approaching trouble that he didn’t realize Debra had returned to the Humvee until she smacked the hood with one gloved fist. He glanced over and his eyes went just a little wide at what he saw.
Debra had a man that was easily a foot taller and well over a hundred pounds heavier in her custody. The man had one arm held behind his back, but Joel could see how she had her captive in what he knew to be a very painful wrist lock. The man was bleeding from a nose that looked freshly broken. Both his eyes were already showing dark circles to add credence to the likelihood of the nose being thoroughly busted. Will and a few of the others were also returning with four more captives.
Opening his door, Joel shoved his harness aside and exited the vehicle. “What do we have here?”
“The last of the Mohicans,” Debra quipped. “This little band thought that they were running things in these parts. I guess you took out their only rivals last time through.”
“And this is the thanks we get?” Joel walked up to the man as Debra applied enough pressure to his wrist and brought him down to his knees. “We eliminate the thorn in your side and you thank us by attacking our convoy?”
“We—” the man began to protest, but Debra increased her pressure even more, turning the attempted excuse into a yelp of pain.
“If I had more time to deal with the likes of you, I’d do a proper job of it.” Joel drew the pistol on his hip. “But I don’t.”
Without another word, or any sort of warning, he brought his weapon up and shot the big man in the forehead, Turning to the other prisoners, he considered for the briefest of seconds asking them to turn themselves over to him, but they were heading into a hostile and probably chaotic situation. The last thing he needed to worry about was a bullet in his back.
“Kill ‘em,” he sighed, turning to climb back into the Humvee. In his wake, he could hear the beginnings of those last ditch pleas for mercy…quickly followed by single reports from a pistol.
Moments later, and down half the numbers with which they had started while not even to the heart of Boulder City, they were on the move once more. Joel glanced over and watched the corpses on the highway until they vanished around the bend. He had to fight to keep down the anger as the black coil of smoke rose as accusatory fingers pointing out to God—if he did, in fact, exist—that Joel and hi
s people were still far from secure. It was a reminder that the problem they faced did not come in the form of the mindless walking corpses.
The problem they faced was the living, breathing refuse of humanity that clung to life and thought nothing of killing other members of the living to satisfy their own desires. This attack had not been about supplies, or in retaliation for anything. At least Joel did not believe that to be the case. After all, his group was simply passing through.
No, these people were killing simply because they could. Who knew what their inner monologs had said to provide them justification for what they had done. If it had been the people he’d sent away and refused sanctuary…that he would’ve been able to understand. The outcome would not have been any different, but at least he would have been able to make sense of the situation.
“Is this what we will become?” Joel asked nobody in particular.
“What do you mean?” Malik answered in his headset.
“Are we simply going to become killers? Will we devolve into feudal lords or warring gangs…intent on the destruction and death of anything that does not conform to our wishes…that dares to defy us?”
“Become?” Debra sniffed. “I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under, boss, but that has been who and what we are for a long time.”
“Amen, sister,” Malik chimed in.
Joel frowned and turned to look out at Boulder City scrolled past his window. They were now entering its heart. Here, there were still fires burning from the power being turned back on. The undead were now more visible as they stumbled and staggered from doorways and shadows.
Did they really need to expand out this far? As of yet, they had not filled half the houses in their tiny fenced community.
Joel pushed all of it away. He needed to have his mind on what lie ahead. If there was a chance to save Conrad, he would do his best. But the more he stewed over it, the more he believed that the complete eradication of that cult was the priority.
