by Thomas Key
Running for the nearest tower, they began to climb the ladder in place for maintenance. The wind naturally picked up and they were rocked with the ice-cold chill of high altitude. Two of the hunters saw the trio bolt and decided the wait was over. They jumped the fence in no time and began to climb up after the fresh warm meat. The zombies below pushed through the gate and made their way to the tower as well. Ken was last up and saw the infected hunter below him gaining ground fast. Stopping his climb, he fired three rounds down the ladder and directly into the tops of their heads. They fell back into their brethren below. When they felt that they had climbed high enough, they found solace in a small catwalk that circled the tower. They grouped up together, once again trying to maintain body heat. Kenneth watched as the base of the tower was completely surrounded. The remaining hunters stood at the bottom, looking up, as if deciding whether or not to go for it. In the end, they didn’t budge. So, the trio sat on the small walkway and waited. For what, none of them knew. It wouldn’t be long before they began to get too cold and their health would begin to seriously decline. “God, a little help please?” Ken asked the clouds above. Another gust of cold wind blew into the group and they all began to shiver. “I guess that’s a no,” Ken said as he inched closer to the women and hugged them tight. “What a way to go.” He sighed as he stared down at the undead below and fired another round in absolute frustration. Hopefully, that shot not his last.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Sir, we’re receiving a signal,” said a technician. He was sitting before a row of computer monitor and wearing a headset. A uniformed man came abreast of him. “What is it?” the uniformed man asked the tech. “It’s static sir,” the tech said. “What’s special about that?” Uni asked him. “It wasn’t there earlier sir. We’ve scanned all of the signals. This one is amplified and coming from the north,” he said. “Can we trace it?” Uni asked. “Yes sir, pinpointing the location now. Should I respond?” Tec asked. “I think we’ll respond in our own way,” Uni said as he picked up a red phone in the small communications room. Two floors above the technician sat a man behind a desk in a very comfortable chair. The phone on his desk rang and he answered. “Yes?” he asked. Listening intently, he waited until the end of the dialogue. “Send a team,” was his only response as he hung up the phone and continued with his duties. In this case, a riveting game of SimCity on his PC. Four men clad in black fatigues were suited up, and heavily armed within minutes. They ascended the stairs, two at a time, heading for the exit of the compound. “Where are we heading sir?” the one at the back asked the one apparently leading. “We’re going back to Albuquerque. Apparently, someone is broadcasting a signal and we’re going to find out who it is,” he said, as the team boarded a waiting black hawk helicopter, painted in black camouflage. “Rescue or search and destroy?” the rear asked the leader. “We’ll find out when we get there, won’t we?” he snapped at the soldier behind him. “Yes sir,” the rear said as he boarded and buckled in, deciding to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the ride. Within moments, it was airborne and heading north with all haste available.
The trio sat, huddled together for warmth as the wind gusts continued to zap what little heat they had left. One more time, a hunter had made the attempt to scale the ladder. It too was met with a bullet to the head. The zombies below, being mindless more or less simply jockeyed for position around the tower, and reached their hands up as if they were going to somehow reach their prey. “Are we going to die?” Ashmore asked, shivering. “No, we’ll be fine,” Ken muttered back, trying to keep the trembling out of his own voice. “Bet?” Atencio asked. Kenneth glanced at her. “You want to bet on our survival?” he asked. “If we die, it won’t matter, will it?” she retorted. “I guess not, but I bet you a case of beer that we make it out of here,” Ken said. “Ew, who even likes beer?” Atencio said in disgust. “Okay, what do you have?” he asked her, turning to give her his full attention. “A case of Smirnoff Ice,” she said with a grin. “Ew, are you serious?” Ken asked, giving the same tone as her previous one. “How about this, if... or when rather, we make it out of here, I will drink a case of beer and you two can get the Smirnoff,” he said. The two women nodded to each other. “Deal,” she said, reaching out a hand to shake his. He did not reach his own hand out to shake it. “Wow, that’s rude,” Atencio said, pulling her hand back. Ken’s eyes still had not moved to acknowledge her. “Hello??” she said, putting her hand in front of his eyes, the fire inside of her beginning to ignite. Cold or not, she’d unleash the small woman fury that she always kept inside if he didn’t start paying attention to her when she was talking to him. He finally looked down at her. “What the hell?” she asked. He stood up, and checked the ammunition in his pistol. The two women stood as well, not sure at all of what he was doing, but watching his every move. He looked up and saw them both staring at him. “It worked,” he said, as he pointed out over the Albuquerque area. The brown and tan sand and adobe houses below mixed to create a collage of warm colors. The clouds had moved on from the previous day and with the sun coming directly over them, they could see the city with perfect clarity. A black object was hovering and moving over the city with a fast rate of speed. “That’s our ride?” Ashmore asked, excitement and relief flowing through her. Atencio grasped her in a hug, and they jumped up and down, holding each other like only women can do. For guys, that’s a no go. Sorry, that’s rule 37 of the man code. Kenneth watched as the helicopter banked towards them and rose up into the air. “Ladies?” he asked, his own previous merriment disappearing with each passing moment. They didn’t listen. Why don’t they ever listen? he asked himself with frustration as he put his arms between them and separated them. “We should make ourselves as un-noticeable as possible. Like now,” he told them as he proceeded to lay down on the freezing steel of the tower’s catwalk. “Why in the hell would we do that when we’re about to be rescued?” Atencio asked, a bit of peevishness coming through in her tone. “Probably because that’s not one of our helicopters. Get down. Now!” he told her, his eyes conveying in no uncertain terms that he was dead serious. The women looked at the incoming helicopter, painted jet-black heading straight for them. “Well, grab my ears while you fuck me in the butt,” she said as she too lay down. Ken stared at her, in absolute confusion. “Calm down, it's just a saying,” she told him as Ashmore lay next to them. “How the Jesus and his salted crackers is that a saying?” he asked, his voice quieting substantially. “It’s like when someone says, ‘well, fuck me’ when something goes wrong. It’s like that but way better,” she said matter of factly. “Whatever, that’s weird. Damned kids and their damned stupid sayings. Let’s pretend to be dead now. They’re here.”
The helicopter passed overhead quickly, making an observation pass, and then banking quickly to the right. It came back around, making a second pass, this time, much slower. As it came around for a third, it had slowed down immensely and eventually came to a steady hover over the empty parking lot. Two black ropes fell from either side of the bird and four men rappelled down to the pavement. With weapons at the ready, they immediately began firing into the group of undead at the base of the tower with unrelenting high caliber firepower. As the zombies turned to face the new enemy, they marched in unison towards the new food. The remaining hunters though, somehow saw the writing on the wall and booked it in the opposite direction, and out of the line of sight of the newcomers. It only took a few minutes for the rifle rounds of the four men to completely destroy the mob of undead. As the last bullet left the barrel, the trio on the tower had not moved. Their eyes though had tracked all of the action, but they wanted to seem as close to shadows as physically possible. As the still smoking barrels of the men below searched for targets and came up short, they lowered. The four men advanced, with the helicopter still hovering above in a holding pattern. Watching their corners, they entered the radio building. The generator was still running, and the lights were still flickering on and off. They quickly pulled out of t
he building and cleared the rest of the fenced off area. One of the men in black walked back to the destroyed fence gate, and looked around. The other three fell in behind him, taking up defense positions. The curious one looked back at the tower, seeing the previously killed bodies of the infected at the base of the structure. His eyes followed the length of the ladder up, when they finally came to a rest on the trio, still unmoving. “Shit.” Ken sighed as he watched the events unfold. The four men walked to the base of the tower and watched the three. “Hello up there!” one man shouted, with an Australian accent. They didn’t respond. “We know you’re still alive mates, the generator is still on, and these bodies are fresh,” he shouted up, pointing back at the building, then at the hunters’ dead by their feet. “What do we do?” Ashmore asked quietly. “Stay put,” Ken whispered. “If we have to come up there to get you, we’re going to have some problems,” another man said, with a deep southern drawl. A thin man whispered to the rest. “We don’t have time for this,” he said. “Fire a shot,” the southern man said in response. The thin man raised his rifle and fired one round. It ricocheted off of the metal and into Atencio’s leg. She screamed in pain, clutching her wound. “I said fire a round, not hit them, you dumbass!” the southern man turned and laid into the thin man, who withered under his administrations. Ken stood up, and bent over the now bleeding Atencio and withdrew a medical kit from his small backpack. Slowly wrapping the wound, he made sure that it was a tight fit. The round had grazed her just enough to bleed. It would hurt her to walk but she’d live, or so he hoped. “How about y’all come down now, so no one else gets hurt?” the southern man yelled to the trio, while eying the thin man in the rear guard. “Go ahead. We’ve played our cards.” Ken said, nodding to Ashmore. She nodded back and began to descend the ladder. He had Atencio go next, and he went last. As his feet hit the ground, he was immediately thrown back against the ladder as he was searched. His pistol and all of his ammunition were stripped away. His knife and even his multi tool were pulled out and flung a short distance away into a pile of like gear from the two women. He then was placed on his knees, facing the men with his hands on his head.
“Who are you?” the southern man asked. Ken’s guess was that this man was definitely the leader. “Who are you?” Ken responded with his own question. The southern nodded to one of the men who then, not so gently, placed his first into Ken’s gut. He hit the ground hard, feeling the wind vacate his body. He sucked in breath with small raspy gasps as he tried his best to recover the life-giving air. “I’ll ask the questions. Y’hear?” he asked, eyeing the two women. They both nodded. “Who are you?” he asked again, looking at Ashmore and Atencio for an answer. They both kept silent. The man who threw the punch walked to Atencio, and pressed down hard onto her bandaged wound. She screamed in agony as he squeezed the fresh bullet wound. “Stop!” Ashmore yelled, and the man did stop. He turned to look at her. “Please, stop,” she said, tears falling freely from her eyes. “We were looking for survivors,” she said as the man let go of Atencio and stood straight up, motioning for Ashmore to continue. “What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?” he asked. “We were being chased. We got cornered,” she said, a fresh bout of sobs sweeping over her. The man looked at her with disgust. “That gear isn’t civilian,” he said, pointing to their empty rifles laying in the pile of equipment. “Neither are those fatigues,” he said, pointing to her outfit. The camo tops and pants lending credence to what the man was saying. “Cannon AFB,” she said simply. He nodded. “The truth will set you free,” the southern man said from his spot with a grin. He motioned to the waiting chopper, which then proceeded to land in the parking lot. As its engine slowly shut off, the sound of the silence swept over the crest. “I’m in a bit of a pickle,” the man said, scratching his nonexistent beard. “I’m sure that my superiors would love to have a chat with y’all. Especially considering where you’re coming from,” he said. Ken had finally righted himself and sat, once again, on his knees. He proceeded to stare at the men with unfiltered hatred. “I don’t like you though, and we tend to kill things we don’t like,” he said, as if it were completely normal. “Especially you,” he said, pointing to Ken, who only seemed to snarl in response. “I think we could have a bit of fun first before we take some of you back,” he said with a smile. Whatever military bearing the man had once had, it was obvious that it was gone now. He was a stone-cold killer, and probably more. “You gonna make us squeal like a pig?” Ken asked the man, looking into his eyes. The man met his gaze. “I was thinking about it, yeah,” he smiled back. The women looked at each other, fresh fear evident on their faces. “I’m privy to the athletic lookin’ one myself,” said the southern. “I think we should get to know each other before we go on our merry way back. I never seemed to have much luck with women like you before the shit hit the fan. I figure this is my sign that it’s time, if you know what I mean,” he said, lifting his rifle, pointing it at Ashmore. She was pale with fear, and didn’t move a muscle. “Get up, and go over yonder,” he said, waving his rifle in his intended direction. She still didn’t move. He brought the barrel closer until it was right up against her forehead. She stared up at him, visibly shaking. “I’d hate to splat your pretty head all over the place. Let’s go,” he said, pointing at the radio shack. She stood, and began to walk to the building. Not three footsteps had been taken before the two were stopped in their tracks. “No!” a shout from behind the southern man broke the silence. He turned to see Atencio on her feet and heading straight for him, a knife previously concealed in her bra raised high. She reached him just as the sound of a rifle firing one shot filled the air. She took the impact in her back, and fell forward. The knife fell, missing his heart, but with a downward trajectory. The blade cut deep into his larger than normal post apocalypse gut, and immediately blood began to pour from the man. Atencio hit the gravel face first. Ashmore was there in a heartbeat, holding her head in her arms. “Baby, no no no,” she repeated as she cradled her head into her arms. Blood drained out of her wound and quickly drenched the back of her military fatigues. Atencio lay, unmoving; the bullet having separating two of her invertebrates, paralyzing her. Her eyes met Ashmore as she continued to bleed, and as everyone around them looked on. “I love you,” Atencio said, a ghost of a smile creeping over her face. “I love you too. I need you. Stay with me. Please babe, you’ll be okay,” Ashmore whispered to her, trying to force her will into her body. Their eyes stared into each other’s, words and emotions being sent back and forth without needing to be spoken at all. The bond that had formed between them acting as a bridge. Slowly, Atencio’s eyes fluttered and closed. She tried to fight it, of that there was no doubt. Fighting was what she knew. The light from the end of the tunnel became too much to deny. In the brightness of the white light before her eyes, she saw her family. Her mother and father, standing before her, becoming her onward with welcoming smiles. The feeling of warmness and the loss of the earthly feelings of pain slowly left her. As the light grasped hold of her as she let out her last breath, her only regret of not doing enough to protect Ashmore fading away into nothingness as she left this plane of existence. “No, no, no!” Ashmore shouted, rocking back and forth, “Wake up, wake up,” she told her lover. It was useless. The girl, the fiery soldier, the caring friend, and the love of her life was dead. “The bitch cut me,” the leader said, as another man in black put pressure on the wound. The words, cutting through the silence around Ashmore. “I’m gonna have a good ole time cutting you two up,” he said as he looked down at the now dead woman. “Pity. She was gorgeous. She would have made a lot of men back at base very happy,” he said with a grin. Ashmore pulled her head up and stared at him. Her eyes were filled with menace and hate and sorrow. It was enough to make him take a step back. “Let’s get them bagged and tagged and back to HQ so I can get cleaned up,” he said. Two of the men in black lifted Ashmore and Kenneth up off of the ground and began to move them towards the helicopter. “No! I can’t leave her!” Ashm
ore yelled as she fought the man holding her. They were going to leave her friend there, like a bunch of common trash. She punched and kicked at her captors but to no avail. The man was simply stronger and faster than she was. As they neared the helicopter, a series of events played out. Life has a way of linking random events together into a term that we use all too freely; coincidence. To some, the word is meaningless as there may be no such thing. In this case though, and through Ken’s eyes, it was the case. The rotors of the bird began to start up, the engine once again returning to life. A whoosh and a massive explosion erupted, its concussion knocking all of the participants to the ground. The jet black helicopter quickly became a smoldering burning wreck with smaller secondary explosions erupting inside of the now hunk of scrap. “What the fuck?” the southern yelled as he picked himself up. Two United States Air Force black hawk helicopters came into view from the east. The trails of the missile that had been fired, led straight to one of the two choppers. As the soldiers and the captives below watched, the two helicopters took up positions around the group. Both aircraft were fully armed with missiles and door gunners, all of which were aimed squarely at the men clad in black below. “Drop your weapons immediately, or we will fire on you,” a woman's voice announced from the leading helicopter’s loudspeakers. “Do it,” the southern said, as they all laid their rifles on the ground. Knowing that they could fire at the choppers above, but short of using rockets, it would be an almost useless gesture, he stood and looked on, defeated. “One by one, you will approach this helicopter. Keep your hands on your head, and walk in a single file line. Any attempts to retrieve a weapon will result in being fired upon,” the loud woman said again. The black fatigued men did as they were told. The last of the four, the southern looked back at Ashmore. “I could have been your daddy,” he said with a smile. She met his gaze and walked to the discarded gear. Quickly finding what she was looking for, her hands grasping her Ruger 9mm pistol, she turned and shot him almost point blank in the head. The bullet exploded out the back of his skull, brain matter and skull fragments raining down behind him as he fell backwards. “Put it down!” the woman’s voice from the helicopter yelled out. Ashmore did as she was told and dropped it back to the ground. She turned and attempted to pick up Atencio’s body. Struggling, Kenneth walked over and hefted up the petite woman. For him, she was extremely light, unbelievably so. The weight of her death though would weigh on all of them heavily for the rest of their lives. The sarcastic, quick witted, fun loving girl was now just another casualty in man's war with man. Together, they hefted her up into the waiting helicopter. All of their gear was left in the pile, along with the soldiers’ rifles as the helicopters raised into the air and barreled back towards their destination. Cannon Air Force Base.
