"We're only going to have one shot at getting this right and we'll need to be quick about it. Getting those people out of there is going to be a loud affair and it won't be long before we draw more infected to the building. We won't be able to go back anytime soon, after we leave." Clay finished.
The relief and gratitude that Kevin felt was written all over his face.
"... Thank you. Thank you both..." Kevin's voice shuttered.
"Now... We don't have much time. I need some things from the hardware department. A drill press, some two inch pipe nipples and enough caps to seal both ends... Oh and some cotton twine." Clay said.
Kevin and Melanie nodded and immediately left to begin their search for the items that Clay had listed. The moment the two had departed, Clay walked to his dry bag and began rifling through it. He was searching for his cell phone. Clay had considered leaving it behind at their island camp, believing that he would never use it again. He wasn't certain why he had kept it, but instead of throwing it away he had tucked it deep into the bottom of his pack. He held the power button impatiently, as if pressing it harder would make the tiny machine turn on faster. Clay began quickly scrolling through several of his phone's pages, until finally reaching the icon required to access his email. He instantly began to feel anxious, fearful and regretful that he had not made an attempt to contact or reach Brooke sooner than now.
Clay sat himself down on the floor next to his pack with his back against the bed. He was terrified at the prospect of what his inbox might hold. Time began to pass by while he stared at the cellular phone's display, without Clay even noticing. Finally he stretched his thumb out and tapped the inbox icon.
...
Nothing.
His inbox was empty, save for the email that Kevin had described which had been sent by the operating military forces responsible for defending the region.
Clay's thoughts were quickly spinning out of his control. Was Brooke dead? Had she not tried to communicate with him because she wasn't aware that she could? Was she suffering? What if he had chosen to head straight home, instead of helping these people? Would she still be alive, then? Clay began to lose all sense of time.
"Clay?" Melanie asked, having returned with a shopping cart containing the items he had requested.
Clay continued to stare at his phone, providing her with no response.
"Clay? ... You okay?" Melanie asked again.
Melanie saw the cell phone and couldn't resist the urge to wonder who Clay was hoping to get in contact with. The two had never revealed much about their lives before the outbreak to one another.
"Hello? Earth to Clay..." she prodded.
"Oh, sorry Mel. Yeah, I'm still here." he chuckled falsely, while finding her with his eyes.
Clay stuffed his phone back into his dry bag and rose to his feet. Wandering towards Melanie, while suddenly becoming eager to inspect the contents of her shopping cart.
"Nice work. That'll do just fine." Clay said after glancing at the inventory.
He picked up one of the pipe nipples and began examining it more closely while holding it in his hand.
"Clay, what are you making?" Melanie asked, as Kevin pulled up with a drill press standing upright on a flatbed cart.
"Hand grenades. Well... Hand grenades circa the eighteenth century. But it's the best I can do in a hurry." Clay answered, looking over at the drill press Kevin had brought along.
"How the hell do you plan on making hand grenades?" Kevin asked.
"Mel, in my dry bag is a square red can. Can you grab it?" Clay asked.
Melanie nodded and began her search while Clay and Kevin moved the drill press to a support column close by. The press was the sort that you would see in the garage of a handy man, or do-it-yourselfer. It wasn't industrial grade, but it would certainly get the job done.
Melanie had retrieved the red can from Clay's pack and handed it over to him.
"That's the one. Thanks." Clay said, taking the tin from Mel.
"Okay. Now what?" Kevin asked, a little out of breath from moving the heavy drill press into position.
"This contains roughly one pound of black powder. It's a primitive gun powder. There were boxes of these at the outfitter's shop that Melanie and I had checked out. It's pretty awkward to carry, so I only grabbed a single can." Clay began.
"Now... It doesn't burn nearly as fast as modern gun powder, but if you can contain it long enough, it will generate enough pressure to explode." He continued.
"How are you going to set it off?" Kevin asked.
"That's actually not that difficult to do. In fact, it's probably one of the easiest explosives to ignite. Black powder, considering what it is, can be used for all kinds of things. In this case, we're going to use the cotton twine that Mel grabbed as a fuse. All we need to do is soak the cotton twine in black powder mixed with water and bake it dry. It'll burn like one of those fuses that you've probably seen in old cartoons." Clay explained.
"Are you serious? This sounds like a load of bullshit to me, man." Kevin said in disbelief.
"It'll work just fine. We'll drill a hole in the top of half of the pipe caps and insert the fuses into them. After that we cap one end of the pipe nipple and fill each of them with powder. We just have to leave enough room to give the powder some oxygen to burn. Then we finish it off by putting the fused cap on the nipples and we're ready to make some noise." Clay said, sounding deathly confident in his design.
Melanie and Kevin were both a little amused and impressed by Clay's ingenuity. It was no surprise to either of them that someone like Clay would begin to thrive during a global crises like the one they were now facing.
"And how are you planning to use them?" Mel asked.
"Besides lighting the fuse, tossing them and watching them go boom?" Clay asked sarcastically.
Melanie looked unimpressed, while Kevin smirked at his response.
"Okay, okay. Not a good time to joke. We're not going to use them at all." he said. "He is.." Clay continued as he nodded towards Kevin.
"If it get's my family back, just tell me what you need me to do." Kevin replied, his tone suddenly becoming serious.
"Let's just get this done and get some food in us. Tomorrow is going to be a day for the record books." Clay said.
CHAPTER FOUR
Day 4, 32 Days Post Infection
A row of cedar trees boxed in the entire apartment complex. Clay, Melanie and Kevin had all crawled along the exterior of the cedar row, in an attempt to reach the back door which was to serve as Kevin's entrance into the three-story walk up. Clay had been entirely confident in his plan to free the trapped families while reiterating its design to Kevin and Melanie as they had covertly made their approach towards the complex. Now, as the threesome lay prone in the cedars, Clay began to feel the weight of his promise to Kevin resting heavily on his shoulders. It wasn't a matter of self doubt or that he did not fully believe in their mission's chances of success. But a weight which is felt by any leader of quality. If their strategy failed, then everyone participating in the rescue could very well lose their lives. Clay was the man who was leading the operation and had inadvertently become responsible for all those enacting it.
The first barrier between the three and their success, was getting in the back door. Clay needed to get Kevin inside to relay his instructions to the trapped individuals. Getting in the back door wasn't going to be as simple as walking up and opening it, as they could clearly see that the intel they had received from Kevin's wife had in fact been accurate. There were nine infected currently crowding the door. All were facing the building and there were no other infected within sight, allowing for Clay to position everyone along the cedar row accordingly.
Clay turned his head towards Kevin who was to his immediate left and began speaking at a level that was just barely audible.
"How confident are you that one of them did as I asked and unlocked the back door?" Clay asked.
"Well... I sent the email, but we left before I got a response
from them. I guess we're kind of screwed if it isn't. We're just going to have to hope that they got it." he replied to Clay.
Kevin had a small shoulder bag tucked underneath of him, containing the three hand grenades which had been crafted by Clay, the day before. The plan hinged on so many untested or unverified factors, one of which were these grenades. Another was the entire rescue attempt which was only a few short moments away from unfolding, had been broken down into an email that Kevin had sent to his wife the day before. Kevin had to get inside and for him to do so, his wife had to receive his email and coordinate the survivors inside to prepare for their liberation.
“Alright, Melanie... You're up." Clay whispered to his right.
Melanie had found a small bag in the department store and had packed it with a few essentials that the group might require during the rescue attempt. She now laid prone, using the bag as an improvised rifle rest. The group had left almost everything else back at the department store, with the exception of anything that may assist them in accomplishing their task. She had several jobs assigned to her for the duration of the operation and she was about to embark on the first.
"I'm ready..." she whispered, as she peered through the rifle scope.
Having a rest for her rifle made it much easier to maintain the position of the weapon's optics on target. Her elbows dug into the soft earth blanketing the base of cedar row. Despite the spongy ground, her elbows had begun to ache; the fact making her grateful that they had not been laying on the rough asphalt in front of them.
"Alright. Just remember you two... If things go south here, your jobs are to watch the corners of the building and kill any infected that approach, while I take care of these ones... Whenever you're ready Mel... We're on your time." Clay said, issuing his final instructions and initiating phase one of the operation.
Melanie began to purposefully take control of her breathing. The magazine of her little rifle held ten rounds and their were nine infected standing in the way of their objective. Should she have to reload, the likelihood of the group being detected would increase drastically. It would be imperative that she did not miss. They had been as still as they could possibly be for well over an hour now and she had come to realize that the greatest motivator towards success was the sole thought of finally being able to stand upright once again.
She began to squeeze the rifle's trigger, the crosshairs magnetized to the back of a head belonging to the infected furthest to the right.
SHUCK!
The infected buckled and it toppled to the ground. The three laid perfectly still with waited breath in nervous anticipation of any sort of reaction from the remaining undead.
Clay, Melanie and Kevin held their breath for what felt like an eternity before all letting out a sigh of relief in almost perfect unison. Melanie's attack had gone unnoticed by the other undead.
It had begun. Melanie's courage was bolstered by the dispatching of the first infected. The newly acquired confidence in her abilities served to spur her on further.
The rifle seemed to fire by its own accord. Melanie's crash course in combat against the infected had done exactly what Clay had hoped it would. She would either sink or swim and Melanie was performing like an olympic athlete. With every squeeze of the trigger, another infected would crumple to the ground before the empty casing that had been ejected from the rifle settled on the earth.
Only four infected remained, beating on the door with their fists; the piling up of undead around them going unacknowledged. Melanie relocated her crosshairs onto the skull of another. The rifle's action cycled yet again and her target dropped to the ground, knocking the infected beside it to the asphalt. Upon regaining it's footing, the infected inadvertently turned its gaze on the three, who all made an attempt at remaining perfectly still. While the cedar boughs provided a degree of concealment from wandering eyes, any infected who might look directly at them would certainly make them out for what they actually were. Clay tightened his grip around his tomahawk and planted his palm hard into the ground; preparing to intercept the infected. He was only a moment away from springing into combat, when their threat's legs folded from under it while in mid stride. Neither Clay nor Kevin had fully grasped what had just transpired before they heard the rifle's action cycle again.
SHUCK!
Only a single infected now remained, aside from those who now formed a grotesque ring around its feet.
Clay reached out his hand to Melanie, touching her arm and silently putting her convert assault on hold.
“Kevin, are you ready?" Clay whispered.
Kevin nodded and at that Clay slowly released his grip on Melanie's arm, signalling her to finish her task.
SHUCK!
The metal internals of Melanie's rifle sounded and the final target fell backwards to the ground. The threesome maintained their position for a moment, watching vigilantly for any infected who may have been drawn to the area by the group's activities. When no additional undead presented themselves, Clay nodded to Kevin, signalling to him that his time had now come. They would soon learn whether or not Kevin's email containing Clay's instructions had been received.
Kevin pushed himself up off the ground and while maintaining a hunched over posture, hurried his way towards the back door that was now fringed with fallen infected. Kevin placed his forehead against the door, saying a quick and silent prayer that the party's message had been received by the building's occupants. After opening his eyes he twisted the brushed steel door knob.
Clay and Mel watched from their concealed position as Kevin entered the building and closed the door behind himself. Phase one of their plan was now complete. Clay had instructed that Kevin would be given fifteen minutes before he would begin his assault on the cluster of infected blocking the apartment building's front door. It was time for the them to relocate to the front of the apartment, where their positions for the next stage of the operation would be.
Clay nodded to Mel and the two wiggled backwards towards the outer perimeter of the cedar row. They maintained their prone posture as they began crawling along the tree line. Before having embarked on their final ninety-degree turn along the cedar row that followed along the front of the building, Clay grabbed Melanie's foot from his position behind her. She had been in front of him while they were in transit and this was not something that Clay had felt any semblance of comfort with. With Melanie having gone static, he continued forward until he was alongside her. After placing his mouth directly next to her ear, Clay began to issue his final instructions.
"Do you remember what to do?" he asked her, as quietly as he could.
Melanie nodded affirmative in response.
"Good. We'll find a good spot to place you and when it starts, just do your thing." Clay concluded.
Clay gave Melanie's forearm a reassuring squeeze and then took the lead. Through the trees, they could see brief glimpses of the size of the opposing force standing before them. As they continued to advance, Clay made a point of not acknowledging the daunting numbers of the horde before them, lest he rattle the nerves of Melanie. The people hiding inside the brick building needed her to do her job; Clay needed Melanie to do her job. They soon arrived at a small depression in the soil underneath one of the cedar trees. From this location, Melanie could provide excellent overwatch support and would likely not attract any unwanted attention by her movements while reloading the rifle. Clay looked back over his shoulder and indicated towards the depression with his fingers. Melanie nodded back in response, understanding that it would be from there that she would support Clay.
The sound being generated by the horde was bone chilling. There was a mix of loud snarling and shrieking, fists banging on the door and nearby windows, and enough scuffling that the horde could have been easily mistaken for soldiers on the march. Clay could tell by the look on Melanie's face that she was uncertain about their chances of success. It was too late now to turn back and all Clay could do was offer her a smile, in hopes that it might impart e
ven a small amount of confidence.
Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) Page 8
