Houston, tinkering with his rifle, glanced over at Chung. “So it’s true, he can sleep anywhere eh?”
“Yeah,” said Taylor taking seat next to the sniper who was checking his rifle. "Nice shooting last night."
Huston shrugged. "Not a big challenge. The zombies are dumb bastards and those Lazarites obviously don't know anything about hiding. They must have some real faith in going to heaven. Speaking of going, if the downstairs of this place is barricaded, how the hell we getting in and out?"
Taylor leaned back, hands on his shotgun while the other four troopers all looked at him. He could see the same question in their eyes.
"There’s supposed to be a loading dock they’ll open when we get there. If they can’t or it’s too dangerous, we have a little alternate plan.” Taylor pointed to a wooden crate near the front of the AFV. “See that box?” There were nods all around. “Inside is a grapnel mortar. Probably hasn't been used since WW2, maybe Korea. I have no idea where Nevers found it. If we have to use it, we’ll set it up on the back deck of a Brad, fire it, and climb our way in and out."
The troopers just stared at him as if he were insane. Truth to tell, Taylor and Chung thought this was one of the saner things they'd done. The two of them could turn their fellow’s hair gray with tales of their exploits. Chung was already planning to write a book for the post-Zombie (if there was one) world. The title would be - 'Assholes in Zombieland: The Story of Two Morons Who Couldn't Say No'. His alternate title was everything you wanted to know about being stupid but were afraid to ask. Chung was sure it would be a big seller.
Rivera could feel sweat begin to run freely as the sun rose, warming the day. But he knew that it was more than just the day's warmth that was causing it. He could see the zombies, clambering and stalking around the shattered remnants of downtown following the noise of the slow moving convoy. They staggered out of shattered office buildings, broken and burned cars, pulled themselves to their feet from where they'd fallen. It was like turning on the light in the kitchen in the barrio, but in reverse. Rather than these roaches running away, they were coming. They heard the dinner bell and were answering the call.
Rivera headset buzzed. "Boss, we got a problem."
"What's wrong, Corbin?"
"We've got comms with the group. Things don't sound good."
"Tie me in."
"To anyone listening, this is Lucy Chalmers at 122A Water Street! We've been waiting for a rescue team! We need help! They’re getting in!"
Rivera cursed under his breath. "Miss Chalmers, Miss Chalmers, this is Lieutenant Rivera. We're only a few blocks away. Calm down and tell me what's going on."
"Lieutenant! Where are you?" Chalmers shrieked and Rivera could hear the sound of breaking glass over his headset. Rivera waved to the other Bradley to come up along side. As it did, Kim looked up and pointed. There, two blocks away, standing on a ledge, five stories up, stood a blonde woman. She teetered for a moment then fell, arms pin wheeling, a horrible scream following her down. Kim's eyes followed her all the way. The team was close enough to see the blood splatter when she hit the rubble-strewn street. She hadn't been there for ten seconds when the zombies began gathering for their meal. Kim's knuckles turned white as he clenched the handles of the heavy machine gun. The snarling of the ravenous zombies echoed down Water Street. The worst was yet to happen; the woman survived the fall. Screams, high and eerie, began rising up from where the zombies were devouring her.
"Christ!" Rivera shouted into his mike. "Miss Chalmers? Miss Chalmers!"
Chalmers voice erupted into his ears. "Oh my God! They're in! They’re in! Emma jumped!" The last thing Rivera heard was “Who the fuck are you talking to?” Then the radio went dead.
Rivera went to the team's freq. "Get the throwers ready, we're going in! Keep your eyes open, they may have lookouts!" With a lurch, the Bradley’s rolled forward, the tankers ready to kill anything in their path. In the second APC, the hatch in the middle opened, two flame-thrower men, gasmasks in place, ready to sweep the sides of the buildings.
Rivera made sure his mask and neck guard were secure and in place. Quickly they closed on the small group of zombies dining on the now dead woman. The creatures were snarling at each other as they fought over what remained of her body. Both the zombies and the rubble where the woman’s body landed were splattered with fresh blood, bright in the early sun.
"Run em down," Rivera commanded. So intent on eating, the creatures didn't even budge as the small convoy rolled over them, turning them into a gray-green paste.
Rivera drove past the entrance to the street. The doors were intact, so how were the zombies getting in? He thought about going around to where the loading dock was, but a wall of rubble made that impossible. Any detour could prove fatal to any survivors inside the building. Across the street zombies were assembling. Rivera looked things over and made a decision, they hadn’t come all this way to go back empty handed.
"APC 2, give me a wall of flame across the street. We need to set up the mortar. APC 1, cover the rear. Kim put your Brad's ass to mine. When I give the word, the troops can disembark and start climbing. Keep an eye out. We don’t know if any of those Lazarite pricks are on this side of the building."
The troops carried his orders out in seconds. As APC 2 pulled into the crosswalk, the hatch in the top opened and the flame-thrower operators popped up and began shooting jellied gasoline onto the zombies. Some went up instantly while others staggered away, their tattered clothing and rotting skin burning off them. Those that staggered away would burn beyond the point of mobility; then the vermin that populated the ruined city would come out to feed on their crisped remains.
Chung climbed out of the Bradley and clambered onto the rear deck. He eyed the folded TOW launcher and said, "Don't fire that sucker while I'm back here."
Taylor handed up the mortar, then the grappling round. As they set it up, Rivera turned and shouted down, "I've got Nevers! He says choppers are an hour out!"
Taylor grimaced at this news. "Well, they've got some trouble in there, so we've still got to go!"
Rivera nodded. "No more radio comms, but I'll keep trying."
Taylor and Houston exchanged worried looks. Houston looked up at the building. “What if they’re waiting for us?”
Taylors face turned to stone. “It’s a chance we’ll have to take, so let’s get moving.”
Taylor nodded as Chung aimed and fired the mortar. With a high-pitched whistle, the grapnel shot up and smashed through a window. As shards of broken glass came crashing to the street, some of the waiting soldiers winced. Chung grabbed the nylon rope it was retrofitted with and tugged on it. "Looks good. Think I'll look like Batman when I climb up?"
Taylor stifled a laugh. "Yeah, in his fifties, you fat fuck! Just get climbing, secure it, and keep a fucking eye out. It's a big building, and there's no telling what's in there." Taylor glanced around wondering if this was when his luck ran out.
With an agility belying his weight, Chung went up the line quickly and smoothly. Reaching the ledge, he was glad to see it wide enough for him to sit on. Taking a moment to make sure he wouldn’t fall off, he peered through dirty windows into the empty room. Raising his rifle, he used the stock to smash out the rest of the glass. Carefully he climbed in, knocking more glass out of the way. Pausing to make sure there were no zombies waiting, he then pulled the grapnel in after him. Wrapping the line around a beam several times, he hooked it through the line then tugged on it, making sure it was secure. Lifting his weapon, he fed an anti-personnel round into the grenade launcher and moved to the door.
"Start coming up," he hissed into his mike while leaning against what appeared to be a sturdy door.
Taylor was the first one up, followed by Huston and seven other troopers. The tracks would keep a perimeter below in case the helos didn’t arrive or the troops needed to make a quick exit. Taylor knew one thing; he was not looking forward to attempting an escape the way they had entered the building. Lowerin
g anyone they rescued would raise the hazard level for all.
Chung grinned at his friend. "Don't you love this shit? How did we ever live without the zombies to make life interesting?"
Taylor thought about hitting his long time friend, but resisted the urge. “That woman jumped from the fifth floor. We could have company between here and there. Get your silencers on. Houston, Chung, open that door."
Huston, holding his rifle ready, took point. Chung turned the knob and yanked it open. There, standing in the doorway was a sight from hell. A zombie, face shredded away, only red muscle where it was, ends of intestines hanging out of its opened stomach, arms gone, stood there. Without hesitation, Huston put the barrel of his rifle under its chin and fired. Mushy brains and bone splattered on the ceiling as the zombie toppled back. Huston peered out into the dark corridor, "Nothing else."
One of the troopers, a woman named Sanders stooped to inspect the corpse. "This ones pretty fresh Sarge, might have been one of the folks we’re here for."
Chung knelt over the corpse. “Sandy’s right, Joe. This guys arms weren’t eaten, they were chopped off.”
Taylor chewed his lip. He had a bad feeling about this. At one end of the corridor was a stairwell, the door slightly ajar, the other was a crossing corridor. In between were dull squares of open offices, the dirty windows admitting subdued light. "Huston, place two claymores at that end of the corridor, then we'll head for the stairway."
Huston and Sanders crept down the corridor and left the deadly package. As soon as he was back, the team moved off down the corridor. Five more troopers joined them, but they would remain at the egress point, keeping it open for the others. Once they had comms with the choppers, this group would either rejoin the tracks, or join them for a rooftop extraction.
As the team continued cautiously on, they continued to check the rooms to either side. Nothing remained in any of them other than some unimportant trash; here a piece of Benton letterhead, there was a knocked over wastepaper basket. Any useable materials were gone, the rooms empty. Ahead of them was the stairwell door, the exit sign above it thick with dust.
Taylor pushed the door open gently, and peered into the well. He looked down then up. Nothing. Caution was the watchword of their lives. As he did, a scream echoed down from above them. It started as a sob then rose to a frenzied pitch. Chung, in his usual dead pan way said, "Looks like we have uninvited company."
"Let's go."
The team started up, wondering what horrors awaited them above.
06 March 2032
Rescue Team
122A Water Street
On the way up to the fifth floor, they passed a corpse. The head from the jaw up was gone, dried stains of blood showing that he’d been shot here. The body was dressed in a dusty security uniform, the pistol holster empty. There was no sign of molestation by zombies. Flies buzzed around the ragged remains of the head, and maggots were writhing in its flesh.
Taylor stopped, held up a clenched fist. With barely a sound the men behind him stopped. Activating his commlink he said, "We don’t know what's waiting. Don't go off half-cocked. No one goes anywhere alone. If we find any Lazarite sonsabitches, I want prisoners… if possible." Clicking, he said, "Team two, sitrep."
Sergeant Branch, in command of team two replied instantly. "It's quiet here but things are getting hairy on the street. Zombies keep showing up. So far the throwers are keeping them back."
"Stay out of the far corridor," Taylor replied. "We set some claymores there. Let me know if things hit the fan. If you have to evac, do it. We'll have to wait for the choppers."
"Roger that." Branch knew better than to argue with Taylor.
"Taylor to Rivera."
"Go."
"What's the deal down there? You need to move?"
Taylor could hear some small arms fire over Rivera mike. "No, we're holding. I'll let you know if things get worse. Don't take too long. We're on the second tanks for the 'throwers."
“How many you have?”
“Three for each.”
"Roger that."
Turning to the team, Taylor said, "Keep those masks ready." With that, Taylor lifted his shotgun. Pulling the door open slightly, he was startled by another of the faceless, armless zombies, this one a woman, standing there. Taylor raised his weapon and brought the stock crashing down between her vacant eyes, crushing the bone into the brain, destroying her. Chung and Houston caught the body, setting it quietly on the floor. Without a second glance, he crept up the corridor, noting the fresh blood on the floor. All of them realized that the screams had stopped.
As the rest of the team moved out, Sanders knelt by the corpse then stood. Tapping Chung on the shoulder, she pointed at it. Chung shrugged. He'd seen corpses before, so what?
Sanders whispered. "Sarge, look at the wound around the stomach. That wasn't caused by a zombie."
Chung crouched over the body. Sander’s was right; the wound was neat and smooth, made by some kind of blade. Tensing his throat, he activated his mike. "Joe, we've got a problem here."
Taylor had almost reached the cross-corridor. Stopping, he flattened himself against the wall. "What it is?"
"That zombie you killed. Other zombies didn't kill it. It has knife marks on it. Looks like the face was peeled off and the stomach cavity opened."
Sanders added in, “Just like the one Houston wiped out.”
Taylor cursed under his breath. "The survivors are being killed. Let's move before they waste anyone else."
Peering around a corner, Taylor froze. Blown off their hinges, two large doors hung askew, revealing a once opulent office. Zombies, at least twenty, stood there staring stupidly. Two humans, armed with rifles waited near them, talking and smoking. The zombies stood within reaching distance and did nothing. Taylor rubbed his eyes wondering if he was dreaming.
“Steve, come here.”
Chung was there in a second. He squatted and peered around the corner, ducking back quickly. “Fucking amateurs. Why don’t they have anyone looking out?”
Taylor wanted to shrug, but didn’t. "Makes things easier for us. Huston, get up here."
Huston crept up the hall, rifle held at port arms. Taylor moved backwards slightly, allowing him to look down the corridor.
Huston peered then pulled back. "What the fuck is going on here?"
Taylor thought about the previous night. "I want you to shoot one of those fucks. Don't kill him, just make him bleed."
Huston nodded, "Any reason?"
"Idle curiosity."
Huston raised his rifle and leaned around the wall. This shot wasn't even a challenge. Aiming for one man's neck, he pulled the trigger.
Stanton, one of the two Lazarites guarding the Blessed so they wouldn't wander off, felt as if he were punched in the neck. Staggering backwards, a thick dark stream of arterial blood erupted out of his neck. He was half-dead before he hit the ground. The blood erupting out of his wound shot across his partner and the zombies they were tending. Instantly the creatures were aroused. En mass they rushed the wounded man, fingers digging into his eyes, nose, mouth, and his wound. Blood flowed freely from his face as the ravenous zombies dug down to his skull, the bits of meat crammed into their ever-hungry maws.
The blood that soaked the second man made him a victim too. Before he could go against his belief and raise his pistol, a zombie bit into his face, tearing off his cheek. The attack was so sudden the man didn't even have time to scream before he was dragged down, the hungry zombies shredding him.
Huston and Taylor watched carefully. The information that the Lazarites were only safe when they weren't bleeding would have to be passed on. As the zombies crouched over their meal, Taylor slung his shotgun and pulled his silenced 45. "Let's send em to hell."
So intent on eating their former keepers, the zombies just kept chewing while silent rounds shattered their skulls, destroying their brains, ending their pathetic existence.
Taylor crept forward. At the end of the cor
ridor lay another large office, this one with the doors closed. Muted light shone from under the jamb. Reloading then holstering his pistol, he motioned for the team to follow. Raising his shotgun, he crept forward. One of the heavy doors was slightly ajar now, as if someone were leaning on it. Taylor made a motion for the team to move slowly.
As they got closer, Taylor could hear a voice ranting about how those who remained would either join the Lazarites or suffer the same fate as their fellows.
Taylor thought quickly. Activating his mike he said, "Sanders, Chung. Get some concussion grenades ready. We can’t give the Lazarites a chance to kill any more hostages, so we're going in hot."
Chung and Sanders slid up the hallway alongside Taylor, the small roundels of stun grenades in their hands. Used to subdue criminals and terrorists, the grenades wouldn't kill anyone, but they'd knock them dizzy. The weapons would even disorient zombies, so were handy in rescue missions.
Taylor pulled the slide back slowly on his weapon and double-checked that the round was a sabot. It would easily punch through a good three inches of wood. Raising the barrel, he placed it a few inches from the door…
06 March 2032
122A Water Street
Inside the Office
The remaining research people bound hand and foot were sitting against the far wall of the office. Originally assembled at this location to oversee the salvage of equipment at the site, things were going well until their helicopter never returned and their private security detail fled. Prior to evacuation to Enclave 13, no one was prepared for this area of the city to be abandoned so quickly. This was the governments fault. Not wanting to panic the population anymore than they already were, reports about Lazarites weren’t as accurate as they should have been. Zombies were overrunning the cities, but some in charge still didn’t want to admit that civilization was collapsing around their ears. The research group thought themselves safe within the building, which, built post 9/11, was made to be secure from outside attack.
Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse Page 16
