by R. J. Spears
“That sounds like suicide,” she said.
Chapter 23
From Bad to Worse
“Rex, pull back,” Anthony said over the walkie-talkie. “We need to up the ante.”
Rex knew what that meant, but hated the idea of pulling back at all. A couple more RPG rounds and the place might start to burn. That would make things very interesting, but he did as he was told and moved back through the fog to Anthony and their equipment. As he moved through the knee-high grass, thick with dew, he noticed the inkling of the sun, trying to cut through the fog to the east. The advantage of having the fog cover wouldn’t last much longer, but they didn’t need much more time. Once they moved to stage three of the invasion, things would move quickly for the people inside the Manor, and not in a good way.
When he got to Anthony at one of the buses, he saw that Anthony’s attention was fixed on a small group of video monitors. How he got all these electronics to work, especially in the field, astounded Rex, but that’s why Anthony owned a city. Rex had always thought the brawn would win out over brains when the world went to shit, but that turned out to be wrong. In the end, the nerds win everything.
“What do you see?” Rex asked.
“Only four out of the six wireless cameras are working, but that’s enough,” Anthony said. These wireless cameras were attached to several of the armored zombies and provided fifteen frames per second of black and white video, which was low-tech, but told Anthony all he needed to know. “We have a problem. They have some sort of wires spread across the front of their building. Our soldiers are getting hung up on it. It’s slowing things down. The other more pressing issue is that the two gaps in the fence aren’t large enough. Our soldiers are getting stacked up there. If the people inside have the firepower, they could take out a lot of our soldiers.”
“And?” Rex asked.
Anthony paused before responding, holding back a small flare of anger. “I want you to move up as planned, and knock a hole in that fence.”
“Why not get Roy to do it?” Rex asked.
“Because I trust you the most.”
“Okay, whatever you say. I’m not sure I like being that close to the front of the battle, but I’ll do it.”
“Good,” Anthony said, “and thank you.”
That was a rarity from Anthony. Gratitude came from him in such a limited supply; if you depended on it for any sort of emotional sustenance, you’d be starved.
“I have some special items for you to make your trip more interesting,” Anthony said and turned in his seat. After several seconds, he brought forth another rocket propelled grenade launcher.
“I already have this one,” Rex said, holding up his RPG launcher.
“Yes, but this one is fresh, and the warheads are better.”
“Whatever,” Rex said, putting his down and taking the one Anthony offered.
“And I have something else you might like,” Anthony said as be brought up an AK-47. “What do you think?”
“Nice,” Rex said marveling at the new gun. He had always wanted an AK before the zombie outbreak, but beer money has always been a higher priority. Now his priority list was entirely different, and the AK fit nicely into it.
“I’d like to think so,” Anthony said, and he smiled, but the motion pulled the skin on his face tight, which still pained him from the burns. He maintained the smile in spite of the pain.
“Your trusty steed awaits,” he said, motioning to a bulky squared off beast of a vehicle in the shadows, sitting on an extended heavy duty trailer behind the dump truck they had brought to the battle.
“You know,” Rex said, “I’m looking forward to this.”
Things were quickly spiraling out of control. Although I had seen this attack coming, there was so little I could really do to prepare for it. Day-to-day survival demanded incredible amounts of time, leaving little time to prepare defenses in short supply.
The stairwell was dark as Kara and I made our way down. I had told Brandon and Aaron to stay put, but told any of the able-bodied fighters to prepare to move out into the field in front of the building. It was probably suicide, but waiting for them to blast the building down around us seemed to be the only other option, and that wasn’t cutting it.
My walkie-talkie came to life, and Travis said, “The fog looks like it is about to break up. Should I move my team down to help you guys out?”
“No,” I said, “we may need someone on the high ground.”
“Let me know if you need us to come down.”
“You’ll be the first person I call.”
We hit the ground floor and came out a door near the front of the building. A thin veil of smoke hung in the air, and the ceiling lights flickered. A figure entered the hallway about thirty feet ahead of us, holding a rifle.
The figured turned our way and shouted, “Joel, Kara, is that you?”
It was Jo. Russell appeared out of the smoke next to her.
“Yes,” I said as Kara and I jogged down the hall towards them.
As soon as we made it to them, Jo asked, “What’s the plan?”
“Since we can’t easily take them out with headshots, we’re going to do what we can to keep them from getting inside.”
“But how are we going to do that?” Russell asked.
“Anyway we can,” I said.
A large concussive blast sounded toward the front of the building, and the lights blinked out. A billowing cloud rolled down the hall toward us from the source of the blast. I closed my eyes just a second before it enveloped us. When I opened them again, the dust was settling around us, but we were coated in a thin patina of powdery grey dust, making us look like ghosts.
“Let’s move,” I said as I started toward the front of the building and closer to an oncoming army of the undead. To their credit, they followed me.
We turned a corner, and I saw the front facing wall. Or, better put, what was left of it. Bricks were strewn across the floor, and I could see two gaping holes with light streaming in from outside. A small pool of flame burned on the carpet, just in front of the largest hole.
“Let’s get the fire out,” I said as I rushed forward and began stomping out the flames. The others joined me, and we had it out in less than a minute.
When we finished, I peered out of the hole and saw a mass of armored undead, surging down the hill. They clanked, clattered, and moaned as they trudged forward and were quite frightening when it came down to it.
They were just about on our web of cables. There was no time for a lengthy strategy session, only action.
“Russell, you and I are going out,” I said.
“You’re not leaving me here,” Kara said.
“And I’m not holding back either,” Jo said. “Besides it’s sexist to make us stay behind.”
“There’s no time for argument over gender politics,” I said. “You two are the best shots among us. You can hit them at a distance that I can’t.”
I brought the walkie-talkie to my mouth and keyed the talk button, “Brandon, Aaron, Russell and I are heading out. You guys need to cover us. Kara and Jo will have our backs at ground level.”
As soon as I stopped transmitting, a new voice came over the walkie-talkie. “I’m coming out with you.” It was Brother Ed. I didn’t have time to argue anymore.
“Well, we’re not waiting for you,” I said.
“I didn’t suspect you would.”
“You can’t do this,” Kara said, grabbing my arm.
“We don’t have a lot of choices,” I said. “It’s either go out and meet them, or they’re coming in.”
“What about using our vehicles like little tanks to ram those ugly bastards?” Jo asked.
I contemplated this for a second, but shook my head and said, “Whoever’s out there could pick off a truck with an RPG. It’d be an irresistible and big honking target.”
“We can always run,” she said.
Up until that moment, retreat had not seemed an option. We
had worked too hard, making the complex a safe harbor. I couldn’t fathom giving it up and making a run for it, but the army arrayed against us was making me think we might not have a choice.
At that point, I wasn’t ready to give up. At least, not without a fight, but the logistics of getting all of the people out of the complex overwhelmed me. Could we get out, even if we wanted to? Did we have enough vehicles to get everyone out? I finally came to the realization that there was no time for me to take that on.
The whole scene was beyond comprehension. Just months ago, my biggest concerns were what game to get for my Xbox and whether to go through the drive-thru at McDonald’s or Taco Bell. I was learning the zombie apocalypse was like a crash course in leadership. I could see the commercial. Want to get out of your dead-end job? Try the zombie apocalypse school of management. You, too, can learn how to lead a small militia against an insurmountable army of the undead.
Frankly, at that moment, I wasn’t sure what Greg saw in me when he anointed me for leadership. All I wanted to do was run.
“If this doesn’t work, then we need to consider getting the people out,” I said. “Start getting people ready, just in case.”
She held the walkie-talkie with an expression of disbelief on her face. Both of us knew that some of the older people would never make it out if we had to make a run for it.
“You’ve got to do this,” I said.
“But can’t we stop them somehow?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, giving as much hope as I could spare. The truth was that we couldn’t. Maybe if they weren’t armored. Maybe if they didn’t have living allies. But they were armored, and they did have allies. “We have to start planning for an escape, just in case. Okay? Greg talked about this. We have a route out the back and a rendezvous point.”
She stared at me for a moment and then nodded.
“Russell, you ready?” I asked, turning my attention to him. He looked at me like a child who had just awoken from a bad dream.
A voice came out of the smoky hallway behind us, saying, “He’s not going.”
We all pivoted and looked at a figure coming out of the smoke. It was Brandon, and had this been a movie, he would have been moving in slow motion with a pounding soundtrack to accompany his entrance. He was decked out like a mini-version of Rambo, wearing a bandolier of bullets across his chest. In one hand, he had an RPG and an assault rifle strapped over his shoulder. To top it off, he carried two long spears made of wood with heavy metal points on the end. Brandon isn’t all that big, and frankly, I had no idea how he had been carrying all that weaponry.
“I’m going out with Joel,” he said. It was a declarative statement that said he was going with me and no one else.
“But….” Russell started.
“It’s nothing against you, kid,” Brandon said, “but I can do this better than you can. Plus you’re a better marksman. You can take out any of them that make it around us.”
It was somewhat absurd that Brandon called him a kid, since Brandon was barely in his twenties, but factually, he was correct.
“He’s right,” I said, “and, Russell, I saw how you shot in town. We can use you as a sharpshooter right now.” I also knew that his bad shoulder held him back. Out there, against the zombies, there could be no holding back.
“Why do you have those spears?” Kara asked.
“They’re not spears; they’re pikes,” Brandon responded, seeming slightly offended, as if spears were beneath him. “I’ve had them for a while.”
“Why?” Russell asked, completely dumbfounded.
“Because they’re cool and I thought they might come in handy.”
“Like how?” I asked.
“These are sharp and heavy enough to pierce through metal,” he said. “If our bullets don’t work, we can use these.”
“I have my doubts,” I said. “But there’s no time to debate. You ready?”
“I was born ready,” he said. It was pure Brandon.
I pulled away from Kara’s grasp and grabbed the pike from Brandon. The metal end was quite heavy and made it somewhat unwieldy.
“I feel as if I’m ready to head off to a joust,” I said.
“Let’s go, Sir Galahad,” he said.
I took a last look out of the biggest of the holes in the wall. Leaving the safety of the building took everything in me, but Greg had done his work well, building me up from that hapless kid to the person I was that day. I only hoped that Greg’s Academy for Training Young Warriors had done its job. I was having my doubts.
The zombies were just about on the web of steel cables. I hoped those cables worked the way I thought they would. Ultimately, the cables wouldn’t stop them, but would slow them down. I also hoped that the slowdown would be enough for us to find a way to destroy or repel them.
I turned and looked back to our motley crew and said, “A lot will get tangled in the cables, but the ones that come down the driveway will be on the building in no time. If you can’t take them out with a headshot, see if you can kneecap them. We have to keep them out of the building. Kara, start on Plan B.”
She had her own Plan A and was executing it, as she closed her eyes and prayed. When she opened them again, she seemed more confident, and I wished I had some of that.
I turned and looked out of the hole again. The fog seemed more transparent than it had been, and I had no idea if that would work for or against us.
“Let’s go,” I said as I stepped through the hole and onto the grass, still moist from the morning dew. On any other day, it might have been nice to step out and take in some of the fresh morning air.
As soon as we got outside, we stabbed our pikes in the ground. I hoped we wouldn’t have to use them, but some little voice of truth buzzed around in the back of my brain, telling me that a pike was in my future. This world was becoming stranger by the minute. I fully expected a T-Rex to appear at any moment. That or a U.F.O.
The zombies looked worse, the closer I got to them. Metal had been bolted, welded, and strapped onto their bodies anyway they could. Some had barbed wire wrapped impossibly tight around their arms and legs, holding the metal on with the barbs cutting into their grey undead flesh. Blood and other bodily fluids leaked around the metal and the attachments. Lovely, was all I could think.
Some had wild, ragged pieces of metal attached to their hands, making them look like the claws of an ancient prehistoric creature. Others had smooth pieces of multi-colored metal attached to their torsos, making them look like some horrible, walking sandwich board advertisement. I can tell you, I didn’t want what they were selling.
The first zombie hit the metal cables, and not being a mental giant, it toppled over face first, clattering to the grass. Another one hit the cable and followed his armored buddy to the ground. Under different circumstances, it might have been funny, a modern zombie version of a Keystone cop movie. The two fallen zombies started to get back to their feet, but they struggled to do so, weighed down by all their armor.
They were tenacious bastards and made it back up to a standing position and then moved toward us at a slow shuffle. Too bad for them that they weren’t smart enough to look down at just above ground level to see another strand of metal cable lying ten feet ahead. The anticipation of getting a mouthful of our flesh, combined with whatever electronic compulsion their evil overlord was using to propel them forward, didn’t leave a lot of mental head room for watching for trip wires.
The first one hit the second cable and spilled forward onto the grass. It sunk its arm into the moist soil, nearly up the elbow. That one struggled mightily to free himself as the mud and muck held him in place.
“The tops of their heads!” Brandon yelled with some excitement.
I must have looked confused because he shot me a look of utter frustration.
“Look,” he said and aimed his rifle at fallen zombie, “they’re not armored.”
Holy shit, I thought, he’s right. A weak spot and it was one that B
randon didn’t wait to exploit. He pulled the trigger and ripped off several shots. The zombies were still a good twenty-five feet away. At that distance, it was hard to hit a moving target, but one of his bullets finally hit home, and the zombie’s head exploded. It collapsed in a heap just as another zombie tripped over the cable and fell on top of it. The newly felled, armored zombie floundered like a capsized turtle, trying to get back to its feet. I took aim with my rifle and planted a bullet through the top of its skull. It took me seven shots, though.
So far so good, but this wasn’t going to last. Two down and hundreds to go.
We actually weren’t at hundreds inside the fence. My quick estimate had around fifty. Around a dozen of those were making steady progress down the driveway, unfettered by our strands of cables. I had to hope that people inside would take care of them.
There were still many more zombies heading through the holes in the fence. I had no idea how many were out there. If that fence were breached any more, we would be in serious trouble.
Brandon shot into the skulls of two more downed zombies, but when I went for one closer to me, my bullet ricocheted off the headpiece of metal bolted to the thing’s skull. Its head bounced around on its shoulder like a bobble head for a few seconds, but it pushed itself back to its feet and came forward, steadfast and relentless. Fortunately, it ran right into another span of cable and fell flat on its face again. Poor zombie, I thought.
Brandon ripped off another burst of bullets, and two zombies left this plane of existence when a thought came to me.
“We need to be careful with our ammo,” I shouted. “We don’t have enough for all of them.”
He looked at me and nodded. “Are we going to use the pikes?” he asked.
Like I knew? The pikes were his idea, but since I was in charge, I felt the decision went to me. “Let’s give it a try.”
“That means getting a hell of a lot closer to them than we are now,” he said.
“Yes, it will,” I replied and put the strap of my rifle across my shoulders and turned back around. Just to be safe, we both kept our side arms at the ready with our holsters unstrapped.
