"First off," Jake started. "I wanna apologize for scaring you guys earlier today."
"No problem," Alana replied. "You did kinda make up for it."
Jake then continued. "My name is Petty Officer First Class Jake Riley of the United States Navy. The man wearing the eye patch is my commanding officer, Commander David Miller. The man holding the sniper rifle is Gunnery Sergeant Brandon Peterson of the United States Marine Corps. and to my right is Petty Officer Third Class Matthew Stewart."
Matthew signified who he was by nodding his head.
"We had another man that was with us. He was a member of the Norfolk, Virginia, SWAT team. His name was Arnold Lancaster. He was a brave soldier and a good friend. He lost his life today saving us and many of you."
Brandon slowly fixed his eyes downward.
"But he was not the only one. Many of you lost loved ones today as well. Now, I'm willing to bet that today wasn't the first time you were attacked here by raiders, was it?"
Everyone kept silent.
"Here's the situation: Fort Benning, Georgia is still operating, and they are taking in survivors as we speak. I've been keeping in touch with them everyday. I can already tell you guys that you're not safe here."
"We may not be that safe here," Jamal interrupted. "But if you're suggesting we travel all the way to Fort Benning, then I say that's pretty dumb, Petty Officer."
"Jamal," Sam argued. "He's making a good point. We've already lost a lot of people as it is, and we're low on food and supplies. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of fighting these raiders when the undead is already tough enough to deal with. Not to mention the stores around here running out of supplies. It'll only be a matter of time when we have to either leave or end up dead."
"Might as well go ahead and leave now if that's the case," Sean agreed.
"You guys can go if you want to," Jamal replied. "Me, I don't trust him."
"Jamal, I don't blame you for not trusting me," Jake continued. "I mean, we just met this morning, and not on good terms. You guys don't have to go if you don't want to. That's your choice and yours alone. All I'm asking is that you at least consider this option."
Jamal walked away. Alana walked forward. "I'm in."
"Same here," Sam replied.
"Count me in," Sean said. "These raiders here are getting on my last nerves too."
All eyes were on Nick, who was still silent.
"It's settled, then," Nick finally replied. "I'll let everyone else know tomorrow morning when they wake up."
Chapter 11
Morning came quick. The survivors woke up early. Nick explained to everyone that Jake's group was heading to Fort Benning, and that they were welcome to go with them. Nick, Sam, Alana, Sean, and many other survivors at Fort Bragg packed their things to go with Jake. A handful stayed behind, including Jamal and his family. Once everyone was fully packed, Jake's group led everyone out of Fort Bragg, with the small convoy of survivors following his work truck.
The convoy traveled for miles on I-95, crossing the North and South Carolina border, then continued on I-20, driving around Columbia, South Carolina, and Augusta, Georgia. The convoy would stop and fuel when they needed to, and search for more food and supplies as well. They drove around Atlanta, Georgia, and got on I-85 to Fort Benning.
Sixty miles outside of Atlanta, on I-185, the bus carrying the survivors broke down. They pulled over to the side of the interstate. Nick opened the hood of the bus. It was smoking heavily.
"Yep," Nick sighed. "The engine overheated, causing the head gasket to blow."
"What are we gonna do now?" Alana asked. "We're miles away from an exit. Even if we get to one, there may not be a mechanic store nearby."
There was a lot of vehicles parked on the interstate.
"We could always yank a head gasket out of one of these vehicles lying about," Jake suggested.
"I don't think that will work," Sean replied.
"It'll work," Matthew answered. "I had to do it while stuck in Afghanistan. Hummer broke down, and there was a car on the side of the road, so me and the squad I was with took some necessary measures. All you need is some silicone bonding fluid and a spare head gasket and it'll last you at least a few miles, depending on the vehicle you're driving."
"In that case," Jake replied. "Let's spread out and look for a good head gasket and some silicone. might as well siphon some fuel and look for some supplies while we're at it."
Many of the two groups spit up to look for the supplies. The kids and elderly, along with a few others, stayed on the bus. There were a few dead bodies in some of the vehicles, so the group only took what they needed from these vehicles so that they would leave the bodies be.
One survivor opened the hood of one car, unaware that its front passenger door was open and there was a corpse sitting inside it. The corpse rose and slid out the car, not making any noise. The survivor couldn't see the zombie because the car hood was impeding his view. When he closed the hood, there was no time to act. The zombie bit into the survivor's face, gnawing at his nose and the top part of his mouth.
His screams of pain called in more undead to where the survivors were at. More zombies woke up from the vehicles lying about on the interstate. There were many, and they were strong. Some were fast, outrunning most of the survivors that would make an attempt at running back to the bus. Many that were outside the bus were eaten alive in the most gruesome fashion; some were disemboweled, while others were drowning in their own blood while zombies would feast on their throats.
The remaining survivors outside the bus blocked the doors to the front of the bus. They held a line and fought off the horde, blasting into the heads of the undead with their shotguns, automatic rifles, and sidearms. Sam used his two knives and single-handedly slaughtered a group of zombies circling him, spinning around and gliding over the highway, without as much as being touched by one. He didn't even bother to pull out his pistol that he was carrying.
The onslaught was over. Many of the survivors that fought lost their lives; all except Jake's group, Sam and Nick, Sean, and Alana. The ten survivors that stayed in the bus were unharmed. Sam was a few meters away from the rest, who were beside the bus. He was surrounded by a circle of dead zombies that he slayed with his knives. Nick looked at his younger brother, nodded his head, and smiled. Sam smiled back and holstered his knives.
As Sam began walking back to the bus, a lying zombie presumed dead grabbed Sam's leg. It sunk its teeth into Sam's ankle, severing his tendons as he struggled to escape it. As Sam screamed in agony, he grabbed his pistol and fired three rounds in the zombie's head. He then stood still in shock.
Nick proceeded to run to his injured brother, but Sam pointed the pistol at him to stop him. His breathing started accelerating. He looked at his right foot, nearly amputated, then looked at Nick with watered eyes. He quickly put the gun to his own head.
"NO!!" Nick shouted.
Pow!
Sam's head flung in the direction the bullet was traveling, with his body trailing him to the ground. His hand holding the gun flung in the opposite direction, thus throwing the gun away. As soon as he hit the asphalt ground, a pool of blood started forming from his head.
Nick ran screaming to his younger brother, now lying dead on the ground. As Nick was weeping, he kneeled down and lifted his brother's head, cradled him in his arms, and proceeded to rock him back and forth. Alana started to walk towards Nick, but Miller, who was standing beside her, stuck his arm in her way.
"Leave him be," Miller whispered.
With that, Miller and the rest headed back to the bus to finish fixing it. All Alana did was stand where she was and kept her eyes fixed on Nick, who continued to mourn for his brother’s loss.
Chapter 12
The bus was fixed, and the group of survivors were back on the road again. Everyone on the bus was silent, especially Nick. Jake's group, who were leading the pack in their supplies truck, were also silent.
Ten miles later, the
bus broke down again. The engine was heated up. Jake looked out though the rear view mirror to see the broken bus.
"This day just can't get any worse," he whispered.
While Matthew was pulling over in the supplies truck, the axle snapped.
I just had to say something!
The group would not be able to drive any more. There were a lot of cars blocking the road, so driving was out of the question regardless. Everyone got out of the bus and the truck.
"Well, this isn’t good!" Sean replied. He turned to Jake. "What are we supposed to do now? We're in the middle of nowhere with two broke down vehicles! Fort Benning is still a ways away, and it's almost dark!"
Tension started rising in the group and many were losing their faith in Jake.
"Okay, everyone just calm down," Jake asserted. "Sean makes a good point. It is almost dark, so the best thing we need to do is find a place to camp for the night. There's plenty of trees right beside us, which can hide us from any undead."
"Who's gonna stand guard?" Alana asked.
"Well," Jake answered. "Me and my team brought you along. We'll stand guard while you get some rest."
"I'll stand guard."
"Your choice," Miller replied.
"I am too," Nick added.
Jake walked over to Nick. "Are you sure? You've already been through enough today. You don't have to if you don't want to. Let us handle this."
"I'm standing guard," Nick asserted.
Jake just nodded, then helped the rest of the group unpack for the night.
The sun was setting over the horizon. Everyone laid down some blankets over the dry leaves and pine straw and got some rest, all but those that stood watching over those that slept. Sean started a small fire to cook some of the canned goods. Jake walked over to Nick, who was leaning against a tree with a shotgun in his hand.
Jake took a deep breath. "Listen, Nick," he started. "About what happened to your little brother... I just want you to know that I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I know words won’t bring him back, but I wanted you to know that. If you need anything, you are more than welcome to let me know."
Nick just stared in silence for a moment. "You know what's funny, Jake?" he sighed. "I never asked to be no leader, especially to a group as big as the one I had. It just turned out to be that way."
Nick took a swig of his bottled water that was sitting in the dirt beside him.
"I mean, hell. You're military. I'm assuming you know what that kind of burden feels like."
"I do," Jake answered. "I had a squad of my own back in Virginia. To be honest, I didn't ask for the spot I have now either. I'm only a First Class Petty Officer. Miller's a higher rank than I am. He should be the one leading my group. I guess he trusts my judgment, otherwise this wouldn’t be my burden to bear."
"It should've been Sam leading my group; not me. He was the one with the keen sense of judgment. When he had a hunch about something, he was usually right. Wouldn't have survived staying in Fort Bragg for nearly a week if it wasn't for him. I just hope he was right about this. I couldn't live with knowing that he died in vain."
Suddenly, there was some rustling in the woods. Nick and Jake were silent, listening to make sure it was just a small animal and not a zombie. The treeline was blotting out what was left of the setting sun. Jake pointed his rifle to the direction that the noise was coming from. More noise was coming from behind them. Jake pointed his shotgun to the direction where the other noise was coming from.
More noise was circling the two groups. All Alana could hear was the rustling of leaves and pine straw and her quivering breath. Sean silently gulped, trying hard not to make any sudden moves. Sweat started trickling down Jake's eyes, stinging them as he started looking out in the woods for signs of movement.
There was noise all around the campsite, but there wasn't a person or animal in sight. It was as if there were ghosts haunting those woods, waiting for everyone to fall asleep, so that they could attack. The sound was getting closer; the rustling of leaves were getting louder and more frantic. It was that moment when Jake realized that something could be crawling through the ground. He pointed his rifle to the dirt.
Suddenly, many grassy figures rose up from the ground. These figures outnumbered both groups, and they were holding weapons. Jake, Miller, Brandon, Alana, Matthew, and Nick stood in front of the rest of the cowering survivors, armed and ready to fight to the death.
"Drop your weapons!"
Chapter 13
The figure in front of Jake ordered the small group to drop their weapons. More figures started repeating the same demands. Jake realized that the figures were people outfitted in ghillie suits. Nick didn't know if these people were raiders, so he and the rest kept their guns aimed at the camouflaged people.
"Drop your weapons or we will open fire!" one of the suited people shouted. Another person in a ghillie suit recognized Jake's Navy uniform that he was wearing. He lowered his rifle and started waving to the rest of his group.
"Everyone hold your fire!" the man ordered. "They're friendlies!"
The man walked up to Jake, and removed his head covering. He was clean shaven and his face was covered with camo paint.
"Military?" the man asked Jake.
"Navy," Jake answered. "Well, some of us. One is a Marine, and the rest are civilians. You?
"United States Army. You the one keeping in contact with us?"
Miller walked forward. "That would be me. Commander David Miller."
The man shook Miller's hand. "Lieutenant Tyrese Jones. I have some bad news about Fort Benning."
"It's gone?!"
All the survivors were shocked. Some turned their heads to the ground, thinking that there was no more hope to look for.
"Most of it, but not all of it."
There was a sudden sigh of relief that came from all who were concerned.
"The base itself was overrun," Tyrese continued. "We were pushed back and set up an outpost at the Lawson Airfield, just south of the base itself. We'll have to go around, so it'll be a while, but I can call someone in to pick you guys up."
"What about our stuff?" Sean asked.
"We'll send in a truck to pick up all of your gear as well."
Tyrese then radioed the outpost, requesting two trucks; one for Jake and everyone else, and the other for the supplies in the broke down truck. Thirty minutes later, the trucks arrived, carrying a few armed soldiers to escort the survivors and retrieve the supplies. Jake, Matthew, Brandon, and Miller allowed everyone else on the truck first in case there wasn't enough room. There was just enough room for everyone and the lieutenant, who went with the group to ensure that everyone settled in at the outpost.
The two trucks arrived at the airfield. The one carrying the survivors was the first to enter through the fence. One by one, everyone hopped out of the back of the truck, and they were met by a medical team that screened them, making sure they weren’t bit or scratched. Once the survivors were cleared, they were given food and fresh water, and were escorted to the airport lobby, which was being used to house refugees and other survivors.
Jake was walking with the lieutenant, making sure things were running smooth.
"When did this push happen?" Jake asked.
"Just a few days ago," Tyrese answered. "Sorry we weren't able to let you guys know. We needed everyone we had to fight these things back, and we lost our comms when we were pushed back. As you can see, we're still getting set up here. It'll probably take about a week or so."
"How many others were killed while being pushed back by the horde?"
"About a hundred to a hundred fifty. We lost quite a few survivors and some of our infantry."
When Jake heard Tyrese say that survivors were killed, his heart started pounding hard, and a lump formed in his throat. He was hoping that Cassandra wasn't one of those that perished.
"Lieutenant," Jake started. "There was a Caucasian woman about my age that stayed at that base. She has curly black hair and
goes by the name, 'Cassandra.' Her last name is 'Carter.' Is she alive?"
"Let's see." Lieutenant Tyrese looked through a clipboard he was holding, skimming through the names of all the living survivors that were kept on record.
"You're in luck," Tyrese replied. "Says here that she's on the airfield, alive and uninjured."
Jake sighed in relief. "Where is she at right now?!"
"See for yourself, Petty Officer."
Tyrese just smiled and nodded his head the direction behind Jake. Jake quickly turned around to see Cassandra with her hands cupped over her mouth, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes. Dylan was standing right beside her, with his jaw opened, as if he was out of breath. As Jake started trotting toward Cassandra, she started running towards him, unable to hold back any more tears. Cassandra ran into Jake's arms, and started weeping on his shoulder, thankful that he's alive. All Jake did was gently hold her tight and kissed her cheek. Jake and Cassandra were finally back together.
Chapter 14
It's been three weeks since Jake made it to Fort Benning, Georgia. He was promoted to Chief Petty Officer and was assigned to lead a squad of soldiers responsible in the search and rescue of other survivors.
Commander Miller met with some superiors and set up a temporary military branch called the Z-Corps. The Z-Corps consisted of all available military personnel and involved rescuing survivors and driving out zombies to save and sustain humanity for the future. Many surviving bases all around the country were notified of this and set up Z-Corps. outfits in their area. Since it was Miller that started this branch, he was placed in charge of the outfit as Chief of the Z-Corps. Miller appointed Jake as second in command, and a few other soldiers, including Brandon and Matthew, as officers.
The Z-Corps. had many jobs as the majority of the military, but included three special operations: Spartans, Scavengers, and some HR-Teams. The Spartans were similar to a riot control, and used the same defensive tactics as ancient Spartans, using riot shields and pistols to push back zombies. They were used in the event that a horde would attack the outpost and were used as a last resort. The Scavengers were responsible for going out and searching for food, water, weapons, medical supplies, fuel, and other necessities. The HR-Teams, or Hostile Rescue Teams, would go out and rescue other survivors that made contact with the outpost, escorting them to the safety of the outpost.
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