by Allen Gamboa
Arkady had jumped to the ground before the heated shockwave rolled over him. Getting to his feet, he fired at a zombie that was crawling, rather quickly and on fire, at him. The zombie's head exploded, and the rest of its body fell forward, still burning. The Russian commander shook his head and glanced back over at the lab. Kata's strike had been partially successful in gaining the attention of most of the dead surrounding the lab. The undead were staggering over to the massive fire created by the explosion and walking right into it. A dozen or more of the zombies were now walking barbeques. Despite all the other noises, Arkady could see the rear doorway of the building was almost clear of the flesh eaters. He shot two more of the zombies that were making their way towards him. As Arkady turned back to his team, the undead corpses collapsed, headless.
"Let's go!"
"What about Grigory?" Yuri asked, wide-eyed.
"Leave him. The grenade blinded him. He is no good to us." Arkady fired at another advancing zombie. "We have to go now!"
"I'll take care of him," Kata said, slinging the big grenade launcher and drawing a nine millimeter pistol out of her holster. She shoved the barrel into the back of Grigory's head and fired. "We can go now!" she said as Grigory's body slumped to the ground.
"Come on!" Arkady waved his men forward. "Alexi! Valentin! Keep the Americans busy. The rest of you, move your asses!"
"Da, Commander," Alexi said, bayoneting a zombie through the eye then waving Valentin to follow him.
***
"What a cluster fuck!" Wickham shouted as he fired on a deader that staggered his way. The ruse had almost worked, but with all the different noise distractions, the undead crowd had spread out. Most of the deaders were confused. There was no clear route to the lab from where they were now. Deaders were all over the place, and now Russians were loosed around the compound too.
"Keep low!" Hale shouted as he took a deader out at the neck with his mini-14. "We have bad guys out there too."
"Bloody 'ell!" Newman said, popping off a round from his rifle. "New plan, Major?"
"You bet. Newman, you take your men left, Lieutenant Wickham right, and we'll all meet at the back. Kill as many of those Russian bastards as you can."
"Right, Major!"
"Good. See you all back there." Hale nodded as he turned to follow Wickham and his team.
***
The explosion from the gas pumps had blown in the windows of the lab on that side. All the wooden barricades that Wolf and his men had built were reduced to splinters by the huge blast. Dozens of the undead had been vaporized or turned into walking pyres by the explosion. Those deaders that were destroyed were being quickly replaced by the countless undead that were being drawn in by the sounds of battle. The flesh-eating dead, some still on fire, started to climb and crawl into the unsecure openings of the building.
The ringing in Zagers' ears brought him to consciousness under a metal shelf that had collapsed on top of him during the blast. He shoved the flimsy structure away and quickly got to his feet, a little unsteady at first. With the partial loss of his hearing, the sounds of combat around him were muted. The room was filling up with dark clouds of smoke from the petrol fire outside. Coughing as he took in some of the shit-filled air, he glanced around for his rifle, finding it a few feet away. Now for the vaccine and the doctor.
"Wolf!" A distant voice in his ears. "Wolf, over here!" The voice sounded far away but in fact was less than ten feet. "Wolf !" Zagers turned and saw Klattenhoff standing in the hallway. "Come on!" Doktor Orlac and four other technicians stood behind the giant armorer. Two briefcase-sized metal containers were in Orlac's hands.
"Where's everyone else?" Wolf asked, coughing. His body ached like he'd gone ten rounds in a UFC fight.
Klattenhoff shook his head. He could tell Zagers was suffering from the effects of tinnitus, so he shouted at the security chief, “The explosion breached the lab, and the dead are inside now! They haven’t got to this hallway yet!”
“Russians?”
“I think so.” Klattenhoff raised the big machine gun waist high.
“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?” Wolf grabbed one of Orlac’s cases. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”
***
Newman led his team through the high grass and flaming mess towards the rear of the lab building. Winger, Cord, the presidents, Jayne, and Gibson followed the Australian sergeant into the chaos. It was mid-afternoon, but the thick, black flames from the gas fire started to block out the sun. Deaders stumbled around all over the compound, confused but no less dangerous.
"Ain’t payin' us enough for this," Gibson grumbled.
"No shit," Washington said, glancing around as they hurried forward.
"Keep it down," Newman said. "Bloody deaders and Russians all over the place."
"Fuck!" Cord stumbled backwards as a charred deader lying face down in the grass grabbed his leg and pulled him down. Cord lost his grip on his rifle, and it fell into the high grass. As he hit the ground, the undead burned thing crawled on top of him and began clawing and biting at him.
"Cord!" Jefferson shouted as he saw the younger man vanish into the grass. Newman spun around to see the former Marine fall backwards.
"Get 'im!" Newman shouted to Jefferson. "The rest of ya, watch our asses." As he shouted orders, a crowd of deaders made an uncoordinated sprint at the group. "Aw, fuck me," Newman cursed as he raised his rifle to fire on the undead assault.
Jefferson ran through the saw grass to where Cord had disappeared. He found the Marine on his back trying to fight off the ravenous deader. Jefferson raised his rifle and smashed the butt down on the flesh eater’s head. It made a weird gurgling sound then fell over sideways into the grass.
"You okay, brotha?" Jefferson asked, breathing heavily.
"No!" Cord grabbed his right arm. "Fucker bit me!"
"Shit." The older man knelt down next to Cord. "Where?" Nearby, gunshots rang out. Jefferson had to move fast. He moved Cord's hand away from the bite. The Marine could see that the deader had torn a nice-sized chunk out of his bicep. Jefferson quickly pulled out a battle dressing from a leg pocket and started to wrap it around Cord's arm.
"Fucker got me good," Cord groaned.
"Yes, he did." Jefferson finished securing the dressing. "Lucky it didn't get your dick!" More rifle shots. The Marine knew they had to move fast. "Where's your injector?"
"Here." He pulled it out of his tac vest with a trembling hand. "D-do these things work?"
"Fuck if I know." Jefferson smiled as he grabbed it from Cord and jabbed it into his injured arm. "You get a taste for meat, let me know." He helped Cord to his feet. "Come on!"
"My rifle, I fucking dropped it," Cord said in a panic.
"Relax, son. Use your pistol." Jefferson said, trying to calm the obviously scattered and shaken Cord.
"Right, right." Cord drew his nine millimeter. "Thanks, Jeff."
"Let's get back in the fight!" Jefferson said, smashing a deader that was lumbering towards them in the forehead with the barrel of his mini, sending it sprawling backwards. "Shit!"
Newman fired a round into the head of a flaming deader, causing it to fall sideways and tripping up another deader, sending both to the ground. The still-moving deader couldn't figure out how to untangle itself from the other and just lay there, moaning. Newman pulled out a tactical knife and stabbed it in the back of the head. He hated close-up work on the deaders. They were all grabby hands and teeth.
"Alby!" Jayne shouted. He was struggling with three of the flesh eaters. "Alby! Help!"
"Aw, crap." Newman turned and ran towards the ex-Navy man. Jayne was batting two of them away with his rifle while trying to shake one off his leg. Newman knew he couldn't get a good enough shot with Jayne moving about, so he ran up on the first one and shoved his knife through its ear and into its brain. The deader shook wildly, gurgled, then fell away from Jayne. With the first deader down, Jayne was able to pull away and fire a round into the upright deader’s h
ead.
"Fuck me!" Jayne screamed as the deader tore into the back of his thigh. Blood splashed all over the undead thing's face. It dug its face back into the Australian’s thigh. Dark red arterial blood flowed freely. Jayne, frantic, bashed the deader in the head with his rifle stock. The flesh eater continued unhindered.
"No!" Newman slammed the knife down into the back of the deaders head. It released its hold on Jayne's leg and slipped down into the grass. Jayne quickly followed the deader to the ground. "Jayne!"
Newman knelt down next to the wounded Jayne and pulled the Navy man's battle dressing out of his leg pocket. Jayne's breathing very shallow, and he was rapidly losing color. Newman pressed the dressing on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. Washington ran up next to him, fired a round, then squatted down.
"Aw, man!"
"Give me your dressing!" Newman yelled, raising a free hand.
"Yeah, yeah." Washington dug his out and put it in Newman’s hand. "Looks bad, man."
Newman nodded slightly. Jayne had closed his eyes and was whimpering. Newman tightly wound some speed tape around the dressing. Jayne moaned as Newman pulled it as tight as he could. The big Aussie looked back up at Washington, who was keeping cover. Satisfied, he searched Jayne's pocket until he found his injector. Newman patted him reassuringly on the shoulder then jammed the vaccine into Jayne's leg. The injured man winced a little but then returned to his whimpering.
"He's lost a lot of blood," Newman told Washington.
"Not good man. Not good." Washington shook his head. "Maybe we can get him to the lab, and Gonzo could do somethin'."
"Yeah, help me get him up."
"Right." Washington reached down to help him up just as several gunshots rang out from behind. The former MP knelt down in the grass next to Newman.
“Fuckin’ Russians,” Newman said, bringing his rifle up. “Get down!” he shouted.
***
Gibson and Winger were heading over to help Newman and Jayne when Gibson collapsed in a hail of AK fire. The Russian bullets tore across Gibson's shoulders and chest, making him dance like a rag doll before he fell into the saw grass. Winger dove to the ground next to him as more rounds from the Russians smashed all around him.
"Gibby?" Winger called as he tried to make himself one with the dirt. More bullets chewed the grass around them. “Gibby?” The former infantryman pulled himself close enough to his old partner to see he was quite dead. “Gibby, old boy.” He patted him on the back. “I’ll kill a few Russians for ya, mate. Bastards!”
***
"Got them!" Valentin said as both mercenaries moved slowly through the high saw grass. He looked through the sights of his AK-74 and focused on the area where the two Australians went down. Valentin had seen his rounds strike the first man, and he was sure he'd hit the other one too. Alexi was busy watching a handful of zombies that were headed their way.
"Maybe we should check out?"
"Nyet. Nyet!" Valentin shook his head. "I got them both."
"Okay, okay. We have zombie problem." Alexi pointed to the deader that had broken away from the group and started to run at them. "Runner!"
"I hate runners!" Alexi said, raising his AK and firing several rounds into the zombie's head. The undead woman's head exploded like a rotten watermelon, and the rest of its body ran a few feet then fell on its stomach several yards away from the Russians.
"We need to finish off the Americans," Valentin said, turning to where Newman's team was last seen. His head exploded just like the zombie as his body dropped hard to the ground.
"Fuck!" Alexi said, wide-eyed, as another shot just barely missed his head. The Russian dove to the ground next to Valentin's headless body. Americans. He crawled closer to his partner's corpse and dug through his pockets. He took Valentin's extra magazines and a fragmentation grenade the dead Russian had been saving for a special occasion. As bullets splattered around him, he figured this qualified.
Quickly looking up, Alexi got a glance at where the firing was coming from. He dropped onto his back as bullets whizzed over his head. The Russian was thankful that none of the zombies had stumbled onto him yet. Alexi pulled the pin on the grenade then tossed it towards where he thought the Americans were positioned. As soon as the grenade detonated, Alexi jumped up and ran for cover behind one of the empty buildings in the compound.
"Motherfucker!" Winger cursed as he grabbed his ears in pain. The grenade had exploded close to him, but Gibson's body took the brunt of the blast. Head ringing from the detonation, Winger staggered to his knees. He grabbed up his rifle and fired a few shots in Alexi's direction. Winger then sat down next to Gibson and grabbed his ID tags and injector. "Sorry, mate," he said, then got into a crouching position and moved back towards the lab building.
CHAPTER 37: BAD GUYS 3
Arkady cursed under his breath as he watched Bogdan disappear under four or five of the zombies. The Navy commander watched the ex-Spetsnaz soldier flail hopelessly under their dead weight. Arkady thought about trying to help Bogdan but then realized that he just didn't care enough to risk himself. Besides, it would keep the damned zombie off of him while he worked. A young woman in a torn dress stumbled in his direction. Her head was twisted sideways, causing to her to side step. The commander shook his head. She looked like his second ex-wife. The head contorted at the odd angle even made her look more like Elena. He made sure to carefully place a round into the undead woman's head for good measure.
"Not often you get to shoot your ex-wife twice," he mumbled as he stared down at the zombie he'd just put down. Her hair was the same color. He'd loved her tremendously until he didn't.
"Commander?" Dimitry asked, coming up behind him. Nico and Kata followed as they fired on the confused mob of zombies.
"Nothing." He frowned. "Was trying to yell at Bogdan to watch out. He didn't listen." Arkady pulled his head out of his ass and returned to the mission at hand. They had almost made it to the rear door of the lab with just the loss of Bogdan. Not bad. He didn't know that Valentin had been killed by the Americans.
"Almost there!" Kata said, beheading what appeared to be a ten-year-old boy with her tactical machete. She carried both her AK-74 and her grenade launcher on her back. The machete was easier and more fun. "Come on, Yuri. Quit dragging your feet."
"Right behind you, Kata." Yuri bashed an elderly zombie in the face with the butt of his AK. He felt sick to his stomach and was scared shitless but he had to keep moving. To stop would be to die.
"Move your ass, little flower!" Nico shouted from behind. "I left our American friends a little surprise you don't want any part of."
CHAPTER 38: I HATE SURPRISES
Amante found Nico's little surprise. The Russian explosives expert had planted a trip wire with a fragmentation grenade in the tall grass. The former Navy Seal tripped the grenade while trying to shake a female deader off his back. The hidden explosive blew Amante in half and decimated the deader that still clung to him. Wickham had been near Amante when the grenade detonated. The blast peppered him with shrapnel and threw him to the ground. West and Hale were far enough back that the explosion just added to the ringing in their ears. Clearing his head, Hale could see bits of Amante splashed on the outer wall of the lab. Smoke and flames from the other side of the building were starting to move around to the front of the lab. The major shook his head in disgust. Amante had been a good man. Hale never got used to troop losses. He ran over to where Wickham lay and squatted down by the lieutenant. West followed and squatted down next to the two, providing cover.
"John," Hale shouted at Wickham. "John!"
"I'm okay." Wickham slowly sat up. "Blast got my pack!" He pulled off his rucksack, which was riddled with smoking holes. His gear inside was ruined.
"You are one lucky bastard!" West said, watching their position. The other five members of Wickham’s team arrived and crouched down around them. More deaders were moving in their direction, drawn by the explosion.
"Amante?" Wickham asked grogg
ily.
"No." Hale shook his head slowly.
"Fuck me." Wickham got to a kneeling position. "He was just there!"
"Need me to check you out?" Gonzo, the medic, asked.
"Naw, mate, I'm alright. Let's finish this cock up!"
Hale nodded. "Watch your fucking steps now! Assholes have this mined too!"
"They better not let me get a hol' of 'em," Clarke growled. "Amante was a good guy for an American!"
"Clarke." West pointed down by his left leg. "Company!"
"Shit!" The big Aussie looked down to see a badly charred deader slowly crawling through the thick grass toward his feet. Shaking his head, he raised his left leg and brought his booted foot down hard on the flesh eater's head, smashing it in like a rotting tomato. "Fucker!"
"Save that anger for the Russians, Clarke," Hale said. "These things just want to eat you."
"Yeah." Clarke spat some chew on the freshly re-dead corpse. "Don't worry, Major. I got that part covered."
Rifle fire filled the darkening air. West unloaded on a group of deaders that were sprinting awkwardly for their position. The others turned their weapons in the direction the Australian was shooting. A couple deaders collapsed and entangled each other as they fell. The whole group of runners ended up in a rolling ball of undead arms, legs, and teeth. Another group of flaming deaders emerged from the collapsing front of the building. The entrance to the lab was now completely covered in flames.
"More cookers headed this way!" Mac said, slapping another magazine into his mini-14.
"Mac! Clarke! Put those fuckers down and meet us at the rear of the building," Hale shouted.
