The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation

by Demers, J. D.

  “You might want to leave your mutt. A thousand zombies pretty much leave him useless,” he said as we quickly made our way to the shack. Boomer was galloping behind me, attempting to catch up.

  I followed Fish through the door. “I don’t think Boomer would forgive me if I did.” Boomer came up to my side as I began to pull my gear out and dress up.

  “He’s a dumb dog. Who cares?” Fish grunted as he strapped on his body armor.

  The body armor we wore wasn’t heavy. In fact, it was pretty light. Mostly consisting of sports padding like shin guards and motorcycle protection, it would do little against small arms fire. But that was not why we wore it. Its primary purpose was to prevent zombie teeth from breaking our skin.

  I blindly petted Boomer’s head and loaded up my assault vest with ammo.

  “I care,” I continued. “And he’s not dumb.”

  “Really?” Fish scoffed.

  I glared at the old sniper and saw he was staring down at Boomer. The canine was happily licking between his hind quarters.

  “Like you wouldn’t if you could,” I joked.

  “Got me there,” Fish admitted as he finished gearing up. He was ready in less than two minutes. I wasn’t even done loading my vest.

  “Fish… Maybe we should let Gonzales sit this one out,” I said seriously. An image of Rachel rubbing her belly formed in my mind. “I think—”

  “I don’t care what you think, kid. Gonzales is a pain in the ass, but he’s one of the best runners we have. We need him.” Fish grabbed his rifle and then added, “He’ll do his duty.”

  I wanted to tell Fish what I thought was going on between the two love birds, but he quickly exited the shack before I was done. If Rachel was pregnant, I concluded, it really didn’t matter. Gonzales still had to do his job. Maybe I felt that he should have stayed because of the mission we were about to embark on. Charging into a thousand zombies to save four people was probably the most dangerous thing we had attempted since we settled in Camp Holly.

  I sighed and glanced at Boomer. He was sitting now, his tail wagging back and forth, watching everything I was doing. He knew we were about to go somewhere and I wasn’t about to leave him behind.

  “Come on, boy,” I called as I made my way toward the motor pool.

  Right outside our sleeping quarters, Fish was talking intensely with DJ.

  “He needs to stay in this camp, and you know it,” the XO proclaimed.

  Fish nodded, “Yeah, I just didn’t want to disagree with him in front of everyone there. I’ll back you up.”

  “Who needs to stay?” I asked as I approached the two of them.

  “The Captain,” DJ replied. “We need him here.”

  I nodded. I really didn’t understand why they wanted him to stay back at the camp, but I figured they had their reasons. Campbell rarely made runs into the city. I just figured that was because he was the boss, and the boss had other things to worry about.

  We made our way to the front gates where the vehicles were kept. The numerous residents of Camp Holly not designated to go on the rescue mission were gathered in small groups, whispering to each other about what was happening.

  Fish and DJ shared a private conversation as we walked and, at one point, called over Lee Ann as we passed her. After a brief word, we continued to meet up at the trucks.

  We entered the motor pool and I saw everyone starting to gather near Big Red and Vader. The two trucks were monsters compared to the rest of the vehicles in the compound.

  Campbell was talking to Kat. The woman was holding a crate full of radios and was handing one of them to the Captain.

  “Sir,” DJ grunted as we approached.

  Campbell acknowledged us, and then turned to Kat who was holding a crate. “Kat, distribute the radios to the team. “

  “Captain,” Fish started, “you aren’t going on this mission.”

  “Excuse me, First Sergeant?” Campbell shot back.

  DJ raised his hand, “Hear us out, sir. We need you here for command and control. That ain’t my thing. Besides, Enrique is good, but no one drives Big Red like me.”

  Campbell seemed like he was about to argue more, but Fish cut in.

  “DJ is better at this shit than you, sir, and I need the best drivers and shooters if I’m going to get through a few thousand Zulu’s and rescue these dumbasses.”

  “The Major said that there was only a thousand,” Campbell contended.

  “Yeah,” Fish said, then gestured at the overcast sky, “But it’s dead-weather. I’m betting those numbers will double or triple by the time we get there.”

  Campbell eyed me, as if I didn’t belong in the conversation. I backed up and leaned on a truck, pretending to check my AR-15.

  “Look you two, I’m tired of sending others out to risk their lives while I sit here safely and worry if the teams are going to make it back,” Campbell looked at the ground and then back up to DJ. “Especially you, XO. You have a wife and child back here. I don’t want to have to tell your son you’re not coming home.”

  “Make no mistake, sir, but I do what I do for my wife and son. Don’t let your pride or guilt make crappy decisions.” DJ’s hard face softened under his thick beard. “We all have our jobs to do. This is mine,” he gestured back into the heart of the camp, “and that is yours.”

  Campbell released a heavy sigh and handed his radio to DJ. “Alright, but don’t make any stupid decisions,” he said to the big man.

  “Heh,” DJ chuckled, “don’t tell me, tell Fish. He’s in charge. I’m just his driver.”

  The trio broke up and I followed them in between Big Red and Vader where the rest of the rescue team was gathered.

  “Uh, why am I going?” Daniel asked as we approached.

  “Because, we may need a medic,” DJ responded.

  “And we don’t need to worry about keeping you safe because we now have Rich here to take care of people’s bumps and bruises,” Fish grinned.

  “Great,” Daniel sighed. “I feel so needed.”

  “You are,” I laughed. “We need you.”

  “Doesn’t make me feel better,” Daniel moaned and walked over to Jenna.

  “Alright,” Fish barked, “slight change of plans. DJ is now driving Big Red. Campbell is going to stay back and coordinate with the group we are rescuing.”

  “Figures,” I heard Gonzales whisper under his breath. I don’t think anyone heard him except Rachel who was standing next to him.

  “Alpha Team is Big Red, where I will be calling the shots. Cecil, you’re heading up Bravo in Vader and Gonzo will be our backup with Charlie Team. Group up!” Fish ordered and everyone gathered around their vehicles. I stood next to Chad in front of Big Red.

  Fish pulled out the paper UTM map of Melbourne and continued, “Alpha Team will evaluate and proceed to the objective,” motioning his finger down the main road into downtown Melbourne. “Cecil, you will lead Bravo north and run parallel. Do not move into the hot zone until I give the order.”

  Cecil eyed the map. “Okay. We’ll wait near the old church,” he said, pointing at a small block of buildings just north of Historic Downtown Melbourne.

  Fish motioned to Gonzales. “Gonzo, keep Charlie back and out of danger as long as possible. We may need you to cause a distraction or bring Daniel to someone that is hurt. Do not move into the hot zone unless I call for it.”

  “Roger that, Top,” Gonzales answered, and patted Daniel on the back.

  Just then Lee Ann led a small group of people into the motor pool. They were all carrying milk crates full of Molotov cocktails. When John Ivanison from Maine told us that fire tended to keep the dead at bay, Campbell ordered a bunch of Molotov cocktails made for a last resort defense of Camp Holly.

  “Everyone take a crate. We’ll put two in Big Red,” DJ ordered.

  Cecil raised his hand. “I thought we weren’t going to use fire. Something about burning the city, and maybe ourselves?”

  “True,” Fish grunted, “but I w
ould rather have them and not need them, then the other way around. We may not know exactly what effect fire has on the Zulus, but I think those people from Maine are straight shooters. I want to have a backup plan… just in case.”

  No one had to ask what he meant by “just in case”. Everyone took the crates and put them in their respective trucks.

  “Alright, everyone mount up!” Fish commanded. “Check your radios. Make sure they’re all on our runner frequencies.”

  Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie teams all loaded into their vehicles. Boomer jumped in the back of Big Red’s cab with me and Chad. Enrique and Gardner jumped on the back of the fire engine.

  Jenna climbed into the driver’s seat of her truck, while Gonzales jumped into the passenger seat. Daniel climbed in the back, toting his medical bag.

  Cecil, Sam and Private Trent shut the doors on Vader, and the Armored Personnel Carrier roared to life.

  “Ready,” Cecil said over the comms.

  Chad fished out his cell phone and started recording.

  “Going to rescue four idiots in the middle of hell. How do you feel about that, Christian?” he said jokingly to me.

  “Makes me wonder who the real idiots are,” I responded, and then pushed the camera down. “Come on dude, don’t put it in my face.”

  “How about you, Boomer?” Chad said, moving the camera to Boomer who was sitting between us. His tail was wagging in excitement and his maw resembled a grin.

  Boomer turned and licked the cell phone, slapping saliva all over Chad’s fingers.

  “Hey dog!” Chad groaned.

  “Knock it off!” Fish barked.

  Big Red’s engine roared to life. “Ready,” DJ announced.

  “Alright, Alpha is taking the lead. Charlie, bring up the rear,” Fish broadcast into the radio. “Captain, we’re ready to move out.”

  “Roger that, Top,” Campbell’s voice replied.

  The bus that we had taken from the post office was parked as the gate to the compound. Kat was in the driver’s seat and pulled the vehicle away, making an opening wide enough for us to exit Camp Holly.

  The three trucks left, speeding down Route 192 toward Melbourne.

  Once we crossed into the city, we were met with scores of the walking dead. The smell hit us hard, too. We never smelled the dead at Camp Holly, except from the few that stumbled upon our camp.

  “This rescue is going to suck,” Chad whispered to me as we ran through a dozen zombies.

  “As long as we don’t have to leave the truck, we’ll be fine,” I responded.

  “Yeah. What are the chances of that?” he grinned.

  “Slim to none,” I smiled back.

  “Stallion, this is Alpha team,” Fish said, radioing Camp Holly.

  “This is Stallion, go ahead,” Private Manns’ voice crackled through my ear piece.

  “Any word from Major Dobson?”

  “Yes, First Sergeant. Actually a few words. Like ‘Where the hell are you guys?’ and ‘I’m almost out of ammo’.”

  “Put the Captain on!” Fish growled.

  “Go ahead, Fish,” Campbell’s voice said.

  “What’s the SITREP?” Fish asked.

  Just then, Big Red punched through a small sedan, sending it twirling away from the fire engine. We were all jolted to the side as DJ regained control. I looked behind us and saw that Enrique and Gardner were holding on for dear life to the side rails.

  DJ was maneuvering around a small construction site and almost ran headlong into a dump truck.

  “Sorry,” DJ snorted.

  “The Major sounds like he is in a bad way, Fish. What’s your ETA?” Campbell said, unaware of the calamity.

  “About one-zero mikes,” Fish said after a moment of giving DJ the evil eye. “Does the Major see any business signs? We need an exact location. Over.”

  “Roger. Checking.” The radio fell silent for a moment.

  “We could always just follow the dead,” DJ remarked. “If that Major is shooting a firearm, it’s a given that the dead-heads will all be flocking to him.”

  “Fish,” Campbell came back on the radio, “He says he is on top of a cargo truck. Dead-heads are climbing up the front and he is barely holding on. The only sign he sees is a cigar shop sign. Over.”

  “Roger that. Tell him we will be there in a few minutes. Fish out.”

  We approached a fork in the road. DJ had to slow down to push a few more cars out of the way. Big Red had no problem shoving the small vehicles to the side.

  To the right of the fork, a large sign crossed over the road reading ‘Historic Downtown Melbourne’. To the left the road curved and then ran parallel.

  Fish keyed his mic. “Bravo, continue on the left and hold position until we call for you. Charlie, this area seems pretty clear. Hold here until I give you instructions.” Both Cecil and Gonzales said affirmative, and Big Red continued under the sign to the downtown area.

  DJ pressed the brakes and Big Red slowly came to a stop. Last time I was in that area, the streets were filled with green as people celebrated the Irish festivities. Now, though, there was a sea of rotting corpses between us and our objective.

  “Jesus Christ,” Chad wheezed.

  “Can it!” Fish ordered.

  There had to be at least five thousand zombies, all pressing forward toward a lone man on the back of a produce truck two hundred yards away.

  Chapter 15

  The Rescue

  June 23rd Late Afternoon

  “Christ is right,” DJ grumbled, staring off into the sea of zombies.

  Fish ignored him and started barking orders. “Christian and Chad, get on the back. Everyone strap in and get the rails up. Conserve your ammo and use the sticks.”

  I told Boomer to stay and Chad and I climbed out the back and onto the spine of Big Red. Gardner and Enrique had already started to strap themselves to the loops that were around a pole. The pole itself ran from front to back of the fire engine, only broken by a metal defensive position in the middle. This allowed anyone who was strapped to the pole to move up and down the vehicle unhindered and would have little risk falling off the side of the truck.

  Chad and I followed suit and then the four of us began to put the rails on the side. DJ had designed two foot walls that would hang off the edge, pointing at an upward angle. The height made it virtually impossible for anyone to climb on the back of Big Red.

  The ‘sticks’ Fish was referring to were long spears that were ten feet in length. Just behind the tip of the metal spear head was a two foot long cross bar. It allowed us to spear zombies and push them back.

  “Everyone ready?” DJ called over the radio.

  Before anyone could acknowledge, DJ hit the gas and Big Red roared forward into the ocean of dead.

  The wind was blowing at our backs, so the full odor of decay hit us like a tidal wave once we punched into the hoard of zombies ahead of us.

  We barreled down the main road. Most of the zombies seemed to be pushed out of the way by Big Red’s shovel in the front. Others would get stuck underneath, causing us to lurch back and forth. The mass of the giant fire engine absorbed most of the bumps, but not all.

  As we drove deeper into the downtown area, the architecture of the buildings changed. All of the stores, bars and restaurants were conjoined, only separating for side streets. Luck was on our side, because I didn’t see any vehicles blocking the road. That could have gotten ugly.

  “You okay, man?” Chad yelled in my ear over the roar of the engine and the chorus of the dead.

  I nodded and looked at the man in the distance, standing on the back of the cargo truck.

  Four zombies were climbing on the hood of the truck. He kicked the closest one in the head. It fell back into another one and the two fell into the hoard below. It didn’t make a difference, though. More were climbing on the hood and to the top of the cab.

  We were a hundred feet away when I saw him fire three shots at the desperate zombies trying to reach him. All thre
e bullets found their marks, and a trio of zombies fell back. As we pulled up closer, I saw the slide was back on his pistol. He was out of ammo.

  Fish popped up from the cab of the fire engine, brandishing his suppressed .45 as Big Red pulled up alongside the truck.

  “Keep them off the other truck!” he barked at us.

  The four of us all converged on the hood of the truck, poking the zombies with the spears and pushing them off. There was little fear of them climbing on Big Red with all of our defenses.

  The man on the truck leapt from the cargo section of the truck onto the back of the fire engine. He hit hard and I heard him growl in pain. I stole a quick glance at him.

  Major Dobson was dressed in military battle fatigues, though they were barely distinguishable through layers of dirt, dried blood, and wear and tear. He was tall at six feet five inches, with a month of unkempt facial hair that matched the dark brown hair on his head. I couldn’t even guess what age he was, due to the dirt and grime imprinted on what visible skin that was showing.

  He was holding his ankle in agony, but seemed to suck it up and try to stand.

  “Where are the others?” Fish yelled to the man as he banged on the top of Big Red’s cab. DJ pulled the fire engine away from the truck and let it sit in the middle of the road. This made it so the zombies couldn’t climb onto anything and reach the back of Big Red. We were relatively safe, but it didn’t make me feel good with thousands of zombies converging on us.

  “Where are they?” Fish repeated harshly.

  The man seemed to strain as he tried to subdue the pain in his ankle. “Over there,” he gestured toward a cigar shop sandwiched between two other stores. “We have to get them!”

  We all looked at the building. It was only two hundred feet away, but there were hundreds of zombies packed between us and it. The windows were mostly intact except for a couple that were spider-webbed.

  “That’s suicide!” Chad and Gardner said in unison. Enrique said something else in Spanish.

  “Those people are a lost cause, Major,” Fish told Dobson.