As one man tried to climb out, Tobin peppered the wreck with his M-249, tearing the man to shreds, a red chunk of skull blasted out of his head, the body flopping nervelessly to hang out of the window.
Chung blasted the wreck with another 40mm round. This time he used an incendiary round, which went in through the shattered windshield and exploded, flames erupted through the vehicle, followed by screams of pain. This ended quickly as the fuel cooked off and an explosion split the air. A greasy plume of smoke from burning gas and human rose from the wreckage.
The two other vehicles slid to a stop and several looters jumped out and ran to opposite sides of the street. Nevers counted at least ten of them, all armed with a variety of weapons. They started firing as soon as they reached cover, but their fire was undisciplined.
Shaking his head, Nevers activated his comm unit. “Vargas, call in the thunder.”
Up above, high enough not to be heard was a waiting Huey Cobra. Retired by the military; the rising brought them back into service. A deadly helicopter, specifically designed to attack ground targets and support troops, its pilot, Lieutenant Dan Chambers, and his gunner, Warrant Officer Nat Jenkins, lived for a day like this. Other than whacking large numbers of zombies, taking out looters was their favorite activity.
‘Roger that Skull team. Mark the area with smoke and keep your heads down.” A smile slid over Chambers face as he tilted the choppers nose down.
The Cobra was a veritable death machine, armed with a 7.62 mm chain gun and a 40mm auto grenade launcher in a chin turret. Other armaments were folding fin rockets and anti-tank missiles. In service beginning with Viet Nam, it had proven itself a deadly weapon in this new era of urban war with the undead.
Starting to advance, the looters never knew what hit them. Sitting in front, Jenkins blasted them with the chain gun rolling the turret back and forth, walking the rounds right in on them. The looters tried to run, not even thinking of firing back. As the looters were annihilated the shells ripping them to bits, Nevers grinned and glanced at Vargas. “Only thing better than the Cobra is a freaking Harrier.”
In the chopper, Jenkins shot Chambers 'thumbs up'. The mini-gun was good enough for the looters. He would save his rockets for the dead.
03 April 2032
13th Avenue
Brooklyn, NY
Jenkins made the right decision. The dead, when no prey were about, fell into a lethargic state, a kind of stupor, rising from it only when a sound, something not caused by nature, broke through to whatever part of their brain was still active. This small battle had been enough. Nevers frowned as the eerie moaning of the dead began to fill the air around them. From side streets and buildings they came, stumbling and staggering, searching for prey. Nevers started backing off. His men did not need any prodding to follow him.
“That’s it,” bellowed Nevers. “Time to go! Vargas, get evac on the line, now!”
Wasting no time, Vargas got on the horn to Thunder, asking them for covering fire on the approaching horde. Taylor looked down the avenue. As usual, the creatures were in various forms of disarray. Some of them looked almost human; others were just horribly mutilated things, staggering, crawling even dragging themselves toward the team, moaning their need for flesh.
Some of the creatures, most of them dressed in black and white like the captive zombie, could pass at a glance, for human. Others, their faces shredded, limbs missing, gaping holes in their torsos, could barely pass for the winner in a closed coffin contest.
Nevers led his men back down the avenue to the subdued zombie. The creature lay there thrashing and moaning, trying desperately to get at the fresh humans who were so close. A confused look was on its face as it struggled against its bonds. Nevers pulled his blackjack and rapped the creature again, stilling its jerky movements. As the others turned to face the zombies, ready to bring down fire on them, the sudden roar of an engine caught their attention. A Blackhawk, the door gunner half hanging out, came down out of the sky to hover a few feet above the ground.
Nevers and Chung grabbed the creature and threw it, to dismayed looks from the co-pilot and door gunner, into the chopper then jumped aboard. While the rest of the team leapt on, the door gunner opened up on the creatures, blasting away at their legs, blowing their limbs off, leaving them lying helpless in the street. Other zombies, staggering in their rush to get a meal, tripped over their crippled fellows, falling face first into the street. This caused a logjam giving the team more time to escape. Once they were secure, the scream of the chopper’s engine grew louder as it rose up and away from the enemy.
As the bird headed back for the secure area Nevers spat out onto the zombies. Secure area, he laughed to himself. How long would any area stay secure while humans fought among themselves and the zombie’s numbers increased every day?
Leaning back against the rear bulkhead of the chopper, Nevers closed his eyes. He didn’t know if humanity would survive this war, but he would fight it, no matter then outcome, until the bitter end.
The chopper slid down out of the sky to land near the command post, a sandbagged building on the corner of 18th and Dahill avenues. Demolition teams had destroyed all the buildings for a two-block radius so the temporary base could have a free-fire zone. Nevers and his men clambered off weapons carefully secured. Chung and Finley dragged their latest victim off the chopper (much to the relief of the crew) and dumped him on the street. The creature growled and moaned which got it a series of kicks from Finley, who cursed at it. Finley had wanted to toss it out of the chopper and see if it would land on its head, but Nevers stopped him. As of late, Nevers was getting leery of Finley, thinking that perhaps it was time to reassign him to the Enclave and let him have some down time. Slowly but surely troops were being pulled out of the combat zones, reassigned to various Enclaves, where humanity would hopefully regroup, survive, and strike back at their enemies. Finley denied it, but Nevers was sure that something had happened on a recent mission, something the soldier wasn’t willing to talk about.
As Nevers moved away from the chopper pad, Major Lee Strauss was waiting. Nodding at Nevers, he looked at the zombie. “Only one? Brain boys won’t be too happy with this catch.”
Nevers scowled and nudged the zombie with a foot. “Fuck ‘em.”
Strauss laughed, his red mustache bristling. “I’ve got some good news for you for a change. Nevers, you’ve made Major. Finley, you made sergeant.” Strauss then glowered at Taylor and Chung. “You two fucking deadbeats will stay Sergeants forever.”
Taylor said nothing, thinking about getting something to eat while Chung laughed loudly saying, “I’ve found my calling.”
Strauss laughed at this then went serious. “Had trouble with looters? I wonder if it was part of that group that ambushed the medical convoy near Spirit of Light Hospital? Left the survivors staked out for the zombies.”
The men froze. They knew what that meant. The local looters were getting desperate if they were willing to take on the military. So far, it was the Order of Lazarus that sought out conflict with the military; but with the exception of DC, they had stayed out of the big city battles.
“We found,” continued Strauss, “some of the trucks on Nineteenth Avenue near 65th street. That’s a hot zone now. No more patrols there.”
Never’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a little less of this area for us to worry about.”
“How about rescues?” Chung chimed in.
“Rescues will still be run,” Strauss replied. “But if they fire on you...”
As Strauss led the newly minted Major away, Taylor said. “Congratulations, Jim. You’ll probably get a transfer out of this.” He turned to Chung, “let’s go get something to eat…”
Before the men could move, a rattle of gunfire erupted from the perimeter. The outer area of the camp was cordoned off with sandbags and concertina wire, making it difficult for zombies to approach. Several small guard posts, raised off the ground on two by fours and surrounded by sandbags were the first
line of defense. These small posts were armed with heavy machine guns and flamethrowers, the better to handle any large numbers of the dead. However, for all of these precautions, humans did wear down and when this happened mistakes followed.
Taylors head snapped around at the sound of the gunfire. It wasn’t uncommon for a sentry to get jumpy and start shooting at nothing. Taylor was hoping for this, but a moment later this wish died as the portable loudspeakers erupted with a warning none of them wanted to hear, “BREACH IN THE PERIMETER! BREACH IN THE PERIMETER! ALL AVAILABLE TROOPS TO WEST SECTOR!”
Taylor needed no urging. Unslinging his shotgun, he brought the stock down on the captured creature’s skull, bashing its head into a Rorschach blot. “Follow me!” The men ran toward the west side of the encampment, unlimbering and cocking their weapons.
As they reached the perimeter wall, the soldiers froze for a moment. The sight that greeted them was one of pure horror. At least two hundred zombies were clambering over the broken barrier. The weight of the creatures had knocked sandbags over, snapped some of the wooden supports for the barbed wire. The zombies, who were uncoordinated at best, were tangled in the wire, but it was only slowing, not stopping them. A small knot of the creatures had forced their way into the guard post. Screams were coming from inside, barely masking the sounds tearing, and grunting. Suddenly a soldier rose up, bloody face creased in terror. Taylor watched as filthy hands dragged him back down out of sight. A moment later a fountain of arterial blood geysered up over the ledge of the guard shack. Taylor stopped for a moment and shouted, “Masks! Masks on!” Quickly the men pulled out their gasmasks and locked them into place. Now their faces were protected from being scratched or poked by filthy fingers. Taylor had already lived through such an attack once. He didn’t have any eyes to spare.
Raising a hand Taylor made a forward motion with it. Tobin was first to engage the enemy, his SAW erupting into them, the heavy slugs tearing off limbs, smashing faces into gooey paste, crushing chests and snapping spines. Zombies went down before his firepower like wheat before a scythe.
Taylor cursed under his breath. Since the zombies were inside the perimeter, flamethrowers were out of the question. There was far too much explosive ordnance and valuable equipment around. Taylor wondered if there were any APC’s or tanks available. They could get one and ride right over the zombies, close the breach and allow flamethrowers to be brought into play.
Taylor activated his mike. “Vargas! Get over to the motor pool and get some support here!”
Nodding, Vargas ran off, not wasting time replying. As he moved out of the way, Taylor raised his shotgun and fired. The sabot rounds he liked to use punched into one zombies face, ripping a huge hole out of the back of its head. The round continued on, smashing another zombie to the ground.
Chung loaded his grenade launcher with a flechette round and fired pointblank. Hit by the round, the torsos of two zombies simply disintegrated, blasted to bits by the humming darts. As their arms and heads fell to the ground, Chung had already reloaded and fired again.
One zombie, too close to blast safely, closed with Taylor. Without pausing, he butt stroked the creature, snapping its jaw. As it staggered back, he brought the weapon back around, crushing the side of its skull in, destroying it.
Other men arrived, firing their weapons, blasting the zombies back. Taylor dashed up the short steps to the guardhouse and fired at the zombies in there. The gruesome creatures were so busy eating the two soldiers that they did not look up as he destroyed them. Firing at the zombies, blasting their heads off, Taylor noticed that the troopers were partially undressed. There wasn’t enough left of either body to determine sex. Mentally shaking his head as he fired at the last zombie, Taylor knew it was their taking time to screw that allowed this. If they’d been alert, the incursion could have been stopped early, the zombies beaten back and the perimeter fortified. Moving into the shack, he looked down at the armless torso of one soldier. As the eyes in its fleshless face opened, Taylor fired, shutting them forever. Slinging his shotgun, he brought the heavy .50 caliber weapon up and opened fire. He blasted the zombies backwards, the heavy slugs decimating their disorganized ranks.
Chung moved next to the guard shack, adding the firepower of his grenade launcher to the ‘Ma Deuce’.
Taylor kept firing until Never’s voice erupted over the comset. “Fall back! Gunships are inbound! Fall back!”
Firing off the last of the 50’s belt, Taylor joined the others in dropping back to a safe zone. A last chance redoubt made of sandbags, once the troops were within, everything outside was a free fire zone. As they retreated, Taylor and Chung had to grab Finley, who was shouting unintelligibly, and drag him along.
As the men entered the fall back redoubt, Chung took the time to fire one more grenade. Another flechette round, it exploded before the creatures, destroying several. As he entered the redoubt, his hard breathing could be heard over the comset.
Outside the redoubt, smoke grenades, thrown and fired off by other troopers in guard posts, erupted and spread out in milky white columns. Some zombies growled and clawed at the smoke, others ignored it. The smoke drifted backwards, a light breeze carrying it back over the redoubt. Taylor tried to take a head count, but the damn smoke was in his way. Peering though the artificial gloom, hands clutching his shotgun, he heard rather than saw the sounds of a struggle. Freezing, he moved his head back and forth slowly. There! To the left of the redoubt, he could barely make out arms and legs thrashing. Activating his comms, he called for Chung. Within moments, the stocky Chinese soldier was by his side. Taylor pointed. “There. They’ve got someone!”
Slowed by the smoke, the two soldiers cautiously moved toward the pack of zombies. Suddenly a scream came over their commsets. Chung saw a mask come away in the rapidly clearing smoke. “NO!”
Taylor recognized the voice. It was Vargas. Had he come back to join the team and gotten confused by the smoke? It did not matter now, the zombies had him, and something was wrong. Vargas screamed in pain and fear as the zombies raked their fingers across his unprotected face, skin tearing as filthy, hooked nails tore into them. His legs and arms thrashed as agonizing pain filled his brain. A zombie lifted its bloody face from Vargas, chewing nosily. Taylor lowered his shotgun and fired, blowing the creatures head from its shoulders. Even as Chung blasted the zombies off their fellow, both knew it was too late. The zombies had gotten their victim. Not even Zombicillin could help from the way he was wounded.
Other zombies joined the feast and the two men could hear bone cracking as, unable to tear through the uniform, the zombies broke the bones in the dying man’s face to get at the soft innards. Taylor grabbed Chung and hissed into his mike, “HE, put it right on Vargas body.”
Chung paused for a second then loaded a grenade and aimed. With a chuffing sound, the round sped across the open ground, impacting on Vargas stomach. With a blinding flash of light and a roar of released energy, Vargas blew to bits, three zombies going with him. Others were knocked off their feet, the blast disorienting them.
“Die you mother fuckers!” Taylor began firing his shotgun, blowing zombie skulls to bits. The bodies flopped to the ground as their brains were destroyed. Chung heard the sound of the gunships coming and, grabbing Taylor by the webbing dragged him back to the relative safety of the redoubt.
As they disappeared behind the sandbags, the first Cobra arrived, its miniguns blasting into the zombies, destroying them by tens, blasting them back to the hell from which they had crawled.
03 April 2032
13th Avenue
Brooklyn, NY
With the assistance of the gunships and APC’s, the perimeter was finally restored. While the choppers hovered above, blasting the zombies with miniguns and grenades, the APC’s, in a neat line, rode the zombies down, crushing them beneath their treads into a lumpy paste.
Keeping a careful watch, troopers moved in behind the APC’s, restringing the barbed wire and righting the sandbags, adding m
ore to the barricades. As well as repairing the wall, mines and trip flares were placed; further adding to the posts defenses. Big cargo choppers came in, the cables from them hooked onto the APC’s which were then lifted back over the wire so that they would be inside the relative safety of the compound. Finally able to take off his mask, Taylor came out of the redoubt and stared at the bloodstained ground where Vargas had been. Taking a breath, he began reloading his shotgun, wondering if he should even look for the young soldier’s dog tags. Across the battered and burned area where the battle had taken place, two soldiers were playing kickball with a zombies head. The eyes rolled and the mouth opened and closed as they kicked it back and forth, laughing all the while. Cursing loudly, Taylor stamped over to where the head was rolling and slammed a foot down on it. The head exploded under the impact, an eye erupting out of its socket as the skull elongated and cracked.
“Hey! Why’d you do that Sarge?” One of the men protested.
Taylor spun to face the man. “These things aren’t a fucking joke, troop! Now get to, start checking the fucking perimeter, and clean this fucking mess up!”
The older private rolled his eyes and said, “You shouldn’t be like that Sarge. We’re kicking their asses!”
As Chung came up alongside, Taylor started to laugh. “Keep believing that; troop. Keep believing that. I’ll be watching the fucking zombies eat you one day.”
Chung stared as the two soldiers, laughing at what Taylor said, moved off. “What was all that about?”
Taylor shook his head. “Those two think we’re winning this war. That kind of attitude can get you killed.”
Chung put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “Everyone deals with this shit their own way, Joe. Don’t let it get to you. One day at a time.”
Taylor put his shotgun over his shoulder, “Yeah one day at a time.”
Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse Page 19
