Taylor was startled out of his reverie by the sweet sound of a flute. The vibrant notes split the darkness of the city where only one in five (if that) streetlights were still working. That the city had any power at all in the infested areas amazed Taylor.
Huston flipped up the covers on the scope and activated it. His rifle was the end of a long generation of Remington sniper rifles, going back to Viet Nam and the M70. This one was semi-auto, removing the need to cycle the bolt after each shot. Holding a twenty round magazine, it looked like an old M14 on steroids. Hunching down behind his weapon, he began scanning. Taylor said nothing, just kept his binoculars moving. It has been a while since he’d spotted for anyone. As they lay there listening, both men had to admit that the flutist certainly knew his stuff. Taylor did not have much appreciation for classical preferring rock, but this kind of music spoke to one's soul. Suddenly a voice split the night.
"Soldiers! You can't win against the Blessed of the resurrection! Open the gates and enter paradise!"
Taylor activated his comms, "Zevon! What the fuck is going on?"
"This is new, Sarge. No one's talked before."
"Come, soldiers. Join the Order of Lazarus and enter heaven!"
Huston checked that the silencer on the end of the rifle was secure. Taylor stared as the blonde haired man smiled. "Looks like its hunting season on assholes. And no limit, either."
Taylor suppressed a smile. Huston was scanning the area he thought the voice was coming from. Taylor raised his binoculars trying not to pay attention to the voice and its steady stream of bullshit. Beside him, Huston’s finger was lightly tapping the trigger as he scanned for a target. As the man continued, Huston’s finger tightened…
"The old world is ended, soldiers. The new world is here. Join us and enter para…" The voice stopped, replaced by a gurgling sound. The music stopped and a slight thudding sound was heard as if someone had fallen over.
Huston whispered into his commlink. "Scratch one asshole."
From the darkness before them came a hideous scream. The sounds of shambling feet came to them as the zombies moved toward the wounded man. His screams reached a fever pitch as the zombies closed on him, each of them trying to get a piece of juicy human flesh.
Taylor peered through his binoculars. The ambient light was enough for him to see a mass of zombies surrounding a dark shape on the street. One hand was up in the air, as if pleading for mercy. A zombie took the hand gently and began chewing off the fingers. Taylor had seen many people eaten, but this was the first one he felt deserved it.
Huston half rolled, peering up at the sky. "Weathers clearing. Be able to see the moon soon. I wonder if the musician will…" Before he could finish the sentence, the sounds of the flute floated up to them. Whatever was going on out there, the zombies were being choosy about whom they ate. Why? The Government wanted to know how the Lazarites were able to walk among the zombies. Since they were able to, why did the zombies eat that one after he'd been shot? Then it came to him; that Lazarite was wounded. Perhaps the zombies knew when a Lazarite was weak? No, that made no sense. Still, anything they saw and reported back would have to help the brain boys.
"One of us has joined the Blessed. We thank you for giving him this gift! Soon we will make gifts of you all!"
This was too much for one of the soldiers in the other watchtower. With an enraged scream, she opened up with a light machine gun, brilliant red tracers flying off down the street. "Fuck you! Fuck you!" The enraged woman was shouting. "I'll kill every fucking one…" Abruptly her voice stopped, replaced with a hideous gurgling sound, as if she were gargling something. Taylor half-rolled and looked across at the other tower. The woman was on her feet. In the dim light of the rising moon, he could see an arrow sticking out of her throat. With a final gurgle, she fell forward, beyond the barrier, her fall ending with her in a no man's land of barbed wire and shattered autos. Eyes on the prize, zombies began moving toward her, the shattered hulks of cars only slowing them down. On watchtower two, another soldier, crouched behind the sandbags, held a grenade, ready to pull the pin.
Below the tower, the zombies had reached their still living victim. As they began to paw at her, she resisted with a feeble waving of her arms. Seeing this, Taylor hissed into his commlink, "Do it! Do it now!" With a primal shout, the man dropped the grenade over the wall. Taylor and Huston turned away as the grenade landed next to the dying soldier and exploded, blowing her and an unknown number of assailants apart. Other zombies moved in and began picking up bits of exploded human. They weren't choosy about how they got their meals. Why don’t they eat each other? Taylor wondered. He filed it away as another question for the brain boys.
The explosion had barely faded, when the voice was back. "That one is sharing her flesh, giving communion to the Blessed." Before the echoes of the voice could fade, Huston aimed and fired. There was a thud of something falling and then the scuffling of zombie feet, heading to another meal.
Huston glanced over at Taylor. "Head shot. That one ain't going to suffer."
"Too bad."
Then the music started again, but this time no one was stupid enough to start talking. Huston lay behind his rifle, slowly moving it left to right in a steady arc, then back again. Both of them heard thuds as more arrows slammed into the sandbags. A smart choice, using a rifle would be like sending up a flare, but arrows didn’t reveal their position. Taylor lay flat, not wanting to take an arrow. He wondered why the now dead soldier wasn’t wearing her neck guard. That might have saved her life. It sounded like she was at her wits end. Cruel as it sounded, Taylor thought it was better she died alone than out on a mission where she could take others with her.
Huston shifted a leg, tapped Taylor on his. "What's up, Corporal?"
Huston didn't move as he whispered, "That side street near the wrecked armored car. See it?"
The rising moon was casting enough light down into the canyon between buildings to throw shadows. Zombies were out there, standing silent. Watching and waiting for some other meal to come their way. Taylor spotted the armored car then shifted his gaze slowly to the left. On a corner, sitting in a wrecked storefront was a figure holding a tubular shadow. Taylor moved his binoculars, focused and grinned, "The musician?"
"We'll see," answered the sniper.
The opening notes of Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' had just begun to reach their ears when the rifle huffed and sent out its package of death. Taylor saw two figures then, one long and silver glittered as it spun away; the other disappeared into the shadows cast by the storefront. The music stopped instantly. A ragged chorus of cheers came up from the compound behind them, followed by an enraged voice; "You scum! You'll pay for that! By Lazarus, you'll pay! No heaven for you! You'll all be staked out, left to rot!"
Huston breathed in as he saw a shadow separate from a building, then he breathed out. A round later and the loquacious Lazarite was silenced forever. Turning slightly he said, "And the curtain comes down on the musician."
06 March 2032
Watchtower One
The Border
Rivera pulled back the charging lever on the fifty-caliber machine gun and glanced down at Taylor, who would be riding the rest of the way in the infantry compartment. "Relax, Sarge," Rivera smiled. "If I don’t think we can pull this off, we’ll pull out."
The gate system was simple. Two gates, both which were raised with a winch (easier to drop if the zombies got in), separated by a holding area. The inner gate would be raised, the vehicles would enter, and then it was closed. Once this was done, flamethrowers would fire, then the outer gate would be raised, allowing the vehicles access to the dead lands.
Taylor took a deep breath. “Keep an eye out up there. Our pals from last night are probably still lurking around. And I’ve lost enough friends already.”
Rivera grinned. “Will do. Saddle up!”
Taylor nodded and disappeared around the back of the Bradley. Zevon, up on Watchtower 1, peered into the clear area bet
ween the gates. "Ok, LT, roll on in!"
Rivera looked up at the first gate as his vehicle moved past it. Don’t fall on me you bastard, he thought, noting how rusted the cables were. Creaking and swaying the gate held, much to the Lieutenant’s relief.
With a jerk, the Bradley moved forward stopping when the hull almost touched the second set of gates. One of the APC's rumbled in behind it. With a squeal and a thump, the inner gate came down. Rivera pulled on his mask, sealing himself in. He could have climbed down into the turret, but he wanted to see what was waiting for them. It amazed him that even with civilization collapsing around them; humanity was able to build these redoubts and the Enclaves, trying to preserve what they could of civilization.
With a roar and stink of gasoline, the flame-throwers erupted for a full minute. As soon as they shut off the second gate was raised (Rivera noticed that this one seemed a bit better maintained, the cables well oiled) and the two vehicles rolled forward. The area in front of the gate was sterile, devoid of zombies. The tracks waded through a sea of blackened bones and carbonized concrete. Eyeing the zombies who waited beyond the reach of the flame - Rivera wondered with a start, could those dead fucks learn? Obviously, they had some feeling since they stayed back far enough to avoid being cooked. The Bradley and the APC went beyond the reach of any second blast of flame. Wouldn’t do to get burnt alive by your own side, Rivera thought. As his vehicle lurched to a halt, Rivera did a 360 making sure no zombies were creeping past them.
"Rivera to Zevon, all clear; send out the rest."
Rivera tapped his commlink switching to the convoy's freq. "OK boys, weapons free. Let's make sure everything is cool." Sighting down the barrel of the 50, Rivera took careful aim and depressed the triggers. The zombies at the edge of the cleared area went down like wheat, the heavy slugs shattering their decrepit bodies. Heads exploded, limbs were torn off, torsos smashed under the assault. On the first APC, the commander, Sergeant Ann Schultz, masked like Rivera, added some fire from her own 50. Two M-60's could be mounted on either side of the top deck cargo hatch, but she didn't want the vehicle that open unless it was necessary.
"OK, cease fire." Rivera tapped his gunner with a foot. "Jeremy, see that little knot of zombies over there by the wrecked ambulance?"
Jeremy Corbin was a fine gunner and friend of Rivera’s since he’d graduated OCS. He knew how to shepherd ammo so that they'd always have some in the worst of times. He could also fire the TOW launcher with impunity. During a salvage mission, while battling looters near a hospital, he'd sent one of the wire guided weapons between two ambulances to smash an armored car. It was likely the looters never knew what hit them. Corbin wondered if they’d been surprised when they woke up in hell.
"I got 'em, LT."
"You know what to do."
Rivera could hear the electric engine of the chain gun warm up, and then the Brad shook as the weapon fired. It couldn't have been more than ten rounds, but the group of zombies, twenty or so, ceased to exist. All that was left of them was an assortment of limbs and a smear of fluids that Rivera was glad he couldn’t smell.
The other Brad pulled up next to him. Second Lieutenant Chan Ho Kim grinned at him. Rivera activated his commlink. "Kim you take rear end Charlie, we'll keep the 113's between us."
Kim gave him a thumbs-up and motioned to the APC drivers. Rivera gave his own driver a thump on the shoulder and the vehicle lurched forward. As they did, Rivera began talking to the men and women of his command. "OK, people, we're in the dead land now. No fucking around, keep your eyes open. I want all of us to get back so we can evac to the Enclave together. Anybody screws up, they might get us all killed. No telling what kind of weapons the fucking Lazarites got, so stay sharp, all right?"
06 March 2032
The Rescue Convoy
Dead Land
Taylor was checking his equipment. Across from him Chung, as usual, was asleep. Taylor envied his friends ability to sleep anytime he wanted to. It was simply amazing.
What few knew was that Chung's rest was rarely peaceful. When he slept, he dreamed of Linda, the woman lost to him because of the war. Chung’s eyes moved under closed lids as he recalled the day he and Taylor went to rescue her. The sun was out; the sky was a brilliant robin’s egg blue. It was a day that one should have felt good to be alive, not out hunting zombies or looters, bringing in survivors. There was a breach in the lines in Maspeth three days before the area was to be evacuated. A make shift unit of police and civilians had cracked under the pressure, allowing a breach. Taylor commandeered an armed Humvee (with Never’s tactic approval) and the two of them sped off for the house Linda was staying in with some friends. It was now behind the lines, but being in this kind of danger was nothing new to either man.
Taylor swung the Humvee right up onto the lawn in front of the house. Across the street, a small knot of zombies waited, staring stupidly. At the sound of the engine, their heads turned in unison, like some odd metronome. Chung leaped out of the vehicle, weapon ready; face pale. Before him, the front door hung off its hinges, a bloody handprint marring the bright green wood.
“Get in and see if she left a note!” Taylor shouted. “She might have been evaced already! I’ll take care of these bastards!”
The zombies were shambling towards their Humvee when Taylor stepped out and raised his shotgun. Loaded strictly with sabot rounds, he began firing at the creatures, blowing their heads off. He fired with the calm of a rich man shooting skeet.
Chung ran into the house. Knocking the door off its remaining hinge, he shoved it aside. The bar used to secure it lay in the hallway, one end covered in gore. A zombie, nude, sex unknown, lay facedown just inside, skull crushed. Keeping his weapon up, he shouted, “Linda!”
The living room was an abattoir, the rug covered in bits of bone and flesh. One zombie, eyeless with only one arm, was chewing on a hand. Chung froze watching for a moment as the creature greedily sucked the flesh from the wrist. Then his heart skipped a beat… the hand was wearing the silver ring he gave Linda on their second date…
Chung felt a cold rage flood over him. With an inarticulate scream, he ran at the zombie and kicked it in the face. Teeth spewed out of its broken mouth as his boot shattered its jaw. Growling, it tried to rise, gaining it another vicious kick, knocking it back. As it fell, it knocked over a chair revealing Linda’s head, a part of her spine still attached to it, eyes blinking stupidly.
Screaming now, Chung turned his weapon on the zombie as it thrashed on the floor. The bullets slammed into it, blowing off the other arm, ripping its fetid body open, blasting a huge hole in its torso. Finally, a lucky bullet hit it in the face, destroying it. Breathing heavily now, Chung wiped sweat off his face and looked down at Linda’s head. Her cerulean eyes were filmed over, her mouth opening and closing weakly. Wiping tears from his eyes, Chung put the barrel of his rifle against her forehead and fired one shot. Lifting her hand, he stared at the ring. An antique piece, it was silver with a row of dolphins engraved on it. Blinking through tears, he pulled it off and stuffed it in a pocket. For a moment, he thought of putting his rifle’s barrel in his mouth, but decided that was the easy way out. Taking a quick, cautious run through the house, he realized there was no one else there. The other three people were dead or had run for it. He knew who they were, perhaps one day he’d find out what happened. Had they sacrificed Linda when the zombies burst in? Chung looked up. A frantic honking from outside brought him back to reality. Loading an incendiary grenade into his launcher, he turned his back on his past and strode out.
Taylor stood by the Humvee, engine running, honking, and then firing his shotgun. They waited there too long; a parade of zombies was headed directly for them. Chung ran out to the vehicle, turned, and fired the round back into the house. A moment later spirals of smoke began to funnel out of the open door, followed by the crackling of fire.
Taylor knew better than to ask what his friend had found. Chung got into the back of the Humvee and stood behind the .
50 caliber machine gun. As Taylor put the vehicle in gear, Chung began firing, blasting them a path back to relative safety.
While his fellows were amazed at how Chung could retreat into sleep at will, they wouldn’t envy the dreams that haunted it.
Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse Page 15
