Haven From Hell (Book 2): Warrior's Chronicle

by Won, Mark

  It took us the better part of a minute for us to switch places. Basically, I had to let the whole thing drift to a crawl before we accomplished the maneuver. By that time another fast moving zombie had managed to smash into the door again.

  With both of its legs being dragged along behind it, it stretched out its arms trying to reach for me. I managed to shoot it through the bus door before it could figure out how to shove the door aside. Then I turned around to see the horror at the window had pushed through all the way to its hips. I had to fire the length of the bus with both the teachers and kids vying to spoil my aim. At least the driver managed to keep a mostly steady course.

  Once I put a hole through that horror’s head I noticed that we were being paced by at least eight more of those things. I reloaded my new pistol but things were getting out of hand. I had only taken one extra clip with me when I’d jumped over the side. I had only fifteen more rounds, and then I’d be reduced to hand to hand combat. Against those fast ones hand to hand combat didn’t seem like such a great idea. They had more teeth than a human should and their fingers had weird bony tips.

  I told the driver, “You’re doing great. You’ve driven this thing before, haven’t you?”

  He said, “No, first time.” He looked terrified.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ryan,” he replied.

  “I’ve got some good news and some bad news, Ryan. Which would you like to hear first?”

  With a wan smile Ryan said, “I think I can see the bad news. What else ‘ya got?”

  “I have a plan for survival. You want to hear it?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Count me in.” His acquiescence was echoed by everyone else in the bus.

  I was starting to like this Ryan guy. “You know that last turn you take getting back to the pickup spot? The one where if you didn’t turn you’d end up driving into the canal?”

  Ryan took a hard left that almost knocked me off my feet. “Yeah,” was all he said through clenched teeth.

  “Well, go straight there instead of turning. Try not to hit a tree.” Then I shouted back to everyone else, “Everybody buckle up. When we hit the water, unbuckle yourself and we’ll see about getting out.”

  I reached around and buckled Ryan in then made my way back and followed my own instructions. Another two zombies managed to hit windows simultaneously, both struggling to get in. One was almost in the lap of a student off to my immediate right, across the isle. I put a bullet through that horror’s head before it had a chance to bite the poor kid. The other one was behind me a couple of seats back. I heard someone back there screaming but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  Then we hit the bank with an almighty jar and went flying out into the canal. We hit the water hard and suddenly the screaming behind me was cut off. I reached down and unbuckled, making my way over to help others. Except for the arm it had left behind, the monster that had been behind me was nowhere to be seen. The student whose lap it had been trying to climb into seemed to have hit his head on something and was out cold. I unfastened his belt, picked him up, and started for the back of the bus.

  Everybody was getting out of their seats and moving toward the rear. Meanwhile the water was pouring in from door and windows alike. Someone got to the back of the bus before me and opened the rear door. By then we were nose first in the canal and sinking fast. People started popping out of that door as fast as they could. Fortunately, everybody could swim. I suppose the teachers made a point of keeping the biggest and most able kids for the last trip.

  Once I got out of the bus and my head broke the surface I grabbed the nearest adult and handed off the kid I’d been lugging around. “Where’s Ryan?!” I shouted. Not seeing him and having received no answer, I dove back into the murk and tried to find my way back.

  My visibility was zero, but the canal was shallow and I figured that the bus couldn’t have managed too much movement. I found the vehicle by feel and made my way over to the mangled door. I managed to jam the thing aside and reach in.

  Ryan was still in the driver’s seat and was flailing about madly. I’m ashamed to admit it but my first thought was that he must have been one of them, one of the enemy. I changed my mind immediately once I saw his movements mirrored those of a drowning man. After my initial recoil I moved in with my knife and cut his belt from him. By then he’d stopped moving. You can imagine my dilemma.

  I grabbed Ryan around the waist and kicked for the surface, making sure I had my knife ready just in case Ryan changed into one of the enemy. We made it to the surface and I began screaming for help. Next thing I knew Zander was right there fishing us out of the water and laying Ryan out for emergency first aid.

  I managed to perform artificial respiration until Ryan began coughing up the half of the canal he’d just breathed in. Zander and I took him inside and put him to bed. I hoped that he didn’t catch pneumonia. We still had some antibiotics from when we’d looted Port Rich. I made a mental note to keep those on hand in case Ryan’s condition deteriorated.

  Chapter 7: Safe Haven, Routine Rescue, Going Home

  We made our way into Lake Michigan without any more hangups. The weather was a bit nippy but nothing too serious. I was content to let my wife take the wheel, while I maintained contact with Mark using the shortwave. We’d been in more or less constant communication with either him or one of his friends ever since we first heard from him. I was looking forward to finally meeting the man.

  Mark came to greet us on the pier we’d been directed to. He was in his early thirties, overweight, and wore glasses. He had a nice deep voice, though, the kind that could really carry a crowd. He took my hand in a nice firm handshake and asked me how I was doing and welcomed us all to Haven. Very mannerly. After I told him we were all alright and he shook everybody’s hand he got down to business.

  “You’ve got quite a large crew here. I don’t know how you’re fixed for victuals but we’ve got a ration system set up right over there,” he said while pointing to what used to be a lake side tavern. “Don’t get your hopes up. All we have to offer right now is fish but I have high hopes that will change once the harvest comes in.

  “Right now space is pretty cramped. The main island has been cleared and people are moving in, but it doesn’t look like things are going to be too comfortable for a while. I have plans to begin clearing other islands in the near future. Once we’ve accomplished that we can start building homes.”

  I interrupted, “Most of us can stay on our boats if that will help. We can act as transport for any island clearing operation you have planned, as well.”

  “That’s good of you to offer but we have all the boats we need. Right now I’m looking for a few competent people I can trust to head out and pick up some survivors. I’ve been in contact with several groups for over a week now and if we don’t do something soon we’re going to lose some of them.”

  I asked him, “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’ve gotten some mechanics together and they’ve plastered some armor on a few repurposed buses. My plan is to send out ten men per bus with three buses per convoy. Right now we only have the one convoy. I’ve been talking to a fellow named Ryan as you sailed into port. He said you really know your way around a rescue operation. Did you serve?” I told him I had been special forces.

  He continued, “Well, it’s like this: you can do anything you want as long as you do something. We need people to help clear the other islands, but we also need somebody to do everything else. We need carpenters, electricians, mechanics, farmers, fishermen, and everything else you can imagine. Once you’ve made up your mind what you’re good at just tell Frank. He’s working in the ration center right now. But if your interested in rescue operations then sooner would be better than later. The convoy is scheduled to head out tomorrow.”

  I wanted to know, “Who’s in charge of the rescue operations?”

  “Right now we have a couple of police officers, Jake and Henry, and a fireman by th
e name of Albert. Why, did you want to throw your hat in the ring?”

  I said, “I don’t want to ruffle any feathers, but I used to do this kind of thing for a living. I’ll need to talk things over with my wife, but I pretty sure she’ll let me head out with the rescue crew. As far as who’s in charge, I’ll let Jake, Henry, and Albert decide. When it comes down to it I can take orders as well as give them.”

  “Excellent,” was Mark’s reply, “The buses are all by the big bridge in Fisher Bay. Just follow the coast in that direction,” Mark pointed southwest, along the coast, “and you’ll come right to it.”

  Someone was shouting Mark’s name, so he shouted back. Then he turned to me again, “I gotta get back to work. I’m glad I had this chance to meet though. Good luck!” And then he was off yelling at people trying to bring order from chaos. It looked like he had his work cut out for him.

  My wife had been hanging back in the galley listening through the door. I turned to her and asked her what she thought.

  “You know you’ve got to go. What else are you going to do? Let some poor fireman get killed by a bunch of monsters? Like you said, you do this for a living. Just remember, you’ve got a family waiting for you.” She patted her belly. “With one more on the way. Maybe let someone else take a few of the chances for a change?”

  I told her not to worry, and then we went back inside to spend some quality family time with the kids before we got to Fisher Bay.

  -

  “So, what’s the plan?” Jake asked. We had been on the road for three hours, until we reached our first potential rescue. The subject of our efforts was a man by the name of Fergus. He had been holed up in his apartment ever since the disaster began. Over a week previously he had attempted shouting for help as soon as his phone stopped working. Naturally, such an action had drawn every zombie in town. On the bright side his verbal excess had alerted a passing vehicle. The driver of said vehicle hadn’t been in a position to help Fergus, but he had remembered the man’s plight once he’d made it to Haven with his family.

  The apartment building in question was actually an antique farmhouse. It looked like it must have once played host to a horde of hillbillies in the way back when. Somewhere along the line someone had parted the house up and rented out the rooms. Surrounding the building were two-hundred thirty-six zombies. All slow, none uncommonly strong (although, still strong enough). They appeared to be the entire former population of the village, or near enough so that it didn’t make a difference.

  Jake was waiting for an answer. He was basically a good guy. A little overly competitive and suspicious of my qualifications to be leading the outing. He took my promotion more personally than he should have. I would have been happy to let the man be in charge, but no one else saw it that way. I was more or less elected by general consensus. Hardly an ideal situation. Mark really needed to set up a better organized militia (or whatever he wanted to call it).

  On the other hand, the groups clearing the rest of the islands did seem to be more organized. I got the distinct impression that I got to work with the leftovers. Not bad people, I don’t mean that. Just inexperienced for the most part. And the few (like Jake, Henry, and Albert) who had some reasonable experience had other issues. Jake was aggressive and dangerously headstrong. Poor Henry was working past a ton of grief (the man had lost everything). Albert, the former fireman, was solid as a rock and just about as useful as a rock when it came to marksmanship.

  Oh well, it was past time to get the party started. “Jake, I want you to stay here with bus Alpha. I’m going to take bus Beta and Gamma around to the other side of the apartment building. Then I’m going to call you and tell you to begin a distraction. You’re to drive closer to the building, blaring the sound system as loudly as you can. Do not let the enemy close. Keep your distance. Let your rear gunners do their work on any ghouls running up behind you. As you draw them off, we’ll move in and extract the subject. If, for some reason, we lose contact with each other your instructions are to return to headquarters. Understood?”

  “What if there are too many ghouls for us?” Jake wanted to know. Ghouls are what the people in Haven called the fast moving zombies.

  I told Jake, “That’s what all the bars and armor are for. Remember to aim low with the shotguns. If you can take out a leg that will slow the target down enough for you to get away. The only real concern is the ogres, but you will be able to out run those. Good luck.” Ogres was what we called the really strong zombies.

  I got Henry to follow along behind me in bus Gamma while I stayed with Albert in bus Beta. I drove while remaining in constant contact with the rest of the rescue crew.

  Albert asked me, “Do you think Fergus is still alive?” A fair question.

  “Probably,” I answered. I had no idea. Our lack of contact with Mr. Fergus was the main reason he was selected as our first rescue. As far as I could tell it mostly depended on his water situation.

  We made sure to take a long rote around the former farmhouse. Once in position I made the call for Jake to begin the distraction, and in two minutes we could hear the sounds of a blaring classic 80’s soundtrack. I waited until Jake said the coast was clear then we all moved in.

  I got out of the bus and moved forward with half a handful good ‘ol boys. Half of them looked desperately eager to kill something, and the other half looked scared half to death. I didn’t know which was worse.

  Once I got to the main door I tried knocking. I heard a scraping noise directly overhead. The noise was so sudden that, Sam, one of the men with me accidentally fired off a shot. The damn thing hit me in the thigh! I dropped like a stone and I hit my head against the cement steps, bringing forth a gush of blood. I was busy seeing stars and there Sam was standing over me yelling, “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” I looked up to see a window open with a balding fifty year old man leaning out of it.

  I told him, “Get everyone with you down here, now!”

  “The halls are full of them!” he replied.

  I motioned for Donald, the guy holding the rope, to hand it over. He and Sam helped me to my feet, then I tossed the grapple up to the man I presumed was Fergus. The grapple was just a twisted piece of metal someone had made out of couple welded lengths of lamp stand, but it got the job done. Right about then something began pounding on the door right in front of us.

  I ordered everyone back just as the door broke open. A dozen zombies came pouring forth. The range was short and I had no problem eliminating six of them at the lintel. With that kind of congestion the rest of the zombies couldn’t get through before I took out four more. By then a few of my companions had managed to get their act together and handle the rest.

  I looked up at Fergus, “Are there any more inside?”

  He said, “No, I think that’s all of them.” Rather than getting to the front door by moving through the house he slid down the rope.

  I had been keeping a watch as best as I was able and hadn’t noticed our gunfire attracting any more of the enemy. I had to assume that the distraction had worked as planned. In any case, we got out of there. I made Sam into my personal crutch.

  Once we were back on the bus and moving toward our rendezvous point I asked Fergus, “Why didn’t the zombies bust down the door to your place?”

  He seemed confused, “What’s a zombie?”

  “Oh, sorry about that. It’s a technical term for the transformed people that were trying to kill you. More generally we call them the Changed. Anyhow, why didn’t they break down your door?” While I was talking, Wolfgang, our medical technician (a former veterinarian’s assistant), was seeing to my bullet wound.

  “I was the only tenant on the second floor,” he said. “The only way to the second floor is up an external staircase around the side. Those people,” by which he meant the zombies, “have so much brain damage they never thought to climb the steps, and it’s not like I opened the door and waved down to them. Thanks for saving me, by the way. Hey, do you guys have any water?”
/>   -

  Our next rescue was a bit more tricky. The problem was that our target was in a town that used to house over thirty thousand people. I would have liked to use more flares as a distraction since that had worked so well when moving through Chicago. But few were to be had. Flares had proved so effective that everyone had a strong tendency to use them as a distraction at the first opportunity. Our next best option was a boombox and a bunch of fireworks. The noisemaker proved no problem to procure, but folks had run out of fireworks even more quickly than they’d run out of flares.

  We knew that the residents of the town that we were trying to rescue were located in a typical house well inside the city limits. I say we ‘knew’, but it would be more accurate to say we hoped they were still safe. Our only intelligence on the subject came from a pilot by the name of Leroy. Mark had gotten a plane in the air and Leroy was our one and only ‘eye in the sky’, as he liked to put it. Leroy had seen a bunch of taped together bed sheets on the roof of the domicile in question. Someone had written the one word, ‘HELP’, across the length of the sheets; a clear cry for rescue.

  At first I thought I’d give Leroy a call to see if he could help, “Hey, Leroy, can you do a low circle up there and maybe draw some of the enemy off?”

  “Sounds like a plan. Just give me a minute.” Leroy used to work an assembly line before retiring. That’s when he bought a nice little Cessna and learned how to fly.

  After about ten wasted minutes it became clear that the zombies weren’t having any of it. For whatever reason the sound of the plane just didn’t motivate them to move. It occurred to me that Leroy couldn’t keep his plane in the air long enough to draw off the whole town, anyway. Although, I would have been overjoyed if even just the ghouls had ran after him.

  I called Jake and Henry over, “Without a distraction this one’s going to prove tricky. I want both of your crews here,” I pointed to a place on the map, “Albert and I are going into town. The plan will be to draw them off, back toward your location. If the enemy proves true to form, the ghouls will charge out ahead of the main crowd, followed shortly by the ogres. Once we have those elements eliminated the rescue should prove simple. Any questions?”