by J. W. Vohs
“I don’t know if we can hold off another bull-rush like the last one,” Lori added as she wiped gore from Blake’s face and looked for wounds.
Everyone turned as they heard Carter on the radio, “Better make it a really fast ten minutes, buddy. Well, I guess we gotta. Y’all just hurry.”
He turned to face the bone-weary fighters, “I suppose y’all heard that; we need to buy ‘em some more time.”
Nobody said a word in reply, they just made sure they had their magazines where they could easily reach them and that their pistols were reloaded and ready to use if the hunters reached them again. A full-scale gun battle would insure that all the hunters from miles around would be able to pinpoint their location after being alerted by the earlier rifle-fire. Still, they had no choice at this point but to stand their ground. Lori had been trained by Uncle Sam on how to use the M4 under stress, so she held an AR as she awaited the next assault. David and Blake, however, had made their mark as fighters with medieval weapons after the fall of civilization. They knew how to shoot the AR, but neither of them were anything more than competent with the weapon. After a few seconds of consideration, Carter told them to keep the pump shotguns in hand and be prepared to open up with the double-ought buckshot at twenty meters.
Looking over the increasing number of hunters gathering near the firelight at the edge of the bridge, the odds were growing that the shotguns would definitely be needed. Carter estimated that at least thirty dead hunters lay on the cement around them, and only God knew how many David and Blake had tossed over the railing. Regardless of the slew of monsters they’d killed up to this point, however, an even greater number were working themselves up for another charge. Todd decided not to wait, and opened up on the flesh-eaters at well over a hundred meters. If he had hoped that the first two creatures he killed would discourage the rest he was mistaken. After watching two of their pack-mates fall dead the others howled in fury and rushed toward the roadblock as fast as they could.
The former Army marksmen emptied their rifles into the surging mob at what they hoped was head-height, unable to draw a bead on the hunters as they sprinted toward their position. A good number of the monsters were hit in the chins, ears, necks, and chests, but only a handful fell with bullets in their brains. Second magazines were slammed home as the flesh-eaters drew within fifty meters, but there were dozens of them rushing forward in this determined attack, and the wounded only grew more furious while the dead didn’t slow the charge in any meaningful way.
Carter felt panic rising in his mind as the creatures approached to within twenty meters and showed no signs of stopping this time. Then David and Blake opened up with the shotguns. They’d done this type of work before, and knew that if they could wait until the hunters were nearly in their faces the buckshot would shred them. Ten shots rang out in ten seconds, and at least a dozen more monsters collapsed to the cement with .32 caliber lead balls lodged in their brains. Once again the shotguns had proven incredibly destructive at close range, but unlike the times they’d been used in the past, the hunter charge wasn’t reversed by the blasts.
The flesh-eaters had more corpses to climb over after the shotguns were emptied, but there was no time for David and Blake to reload and the others had already set aside their ARs for their .22s. Carter just had enough time to fling open the door of the SUV and tell the captured air crew to run before the monsters were on them. The beasts clambered over and around the roadblock, finding a storm of steel and lead waiting for them but furiously pushing onward toward the humans who had brought so much death to their packs this night.
The five exhausted fighters retreated in good order, training and experience in combatting the hunters kicking in when instinct shouted for them to run for their lives. David was again using his dagger to good effect, but he’d felt several creatures slip by him and knew that he would be attacked from the rear in the next few moments. But ten seconds passed and he was still on his feet, another dead hunter left in his wake as he stumbled backward. Then he saw a spray of gore burst from the back of a hunter’s skull just as another beast was about to get around his flank, followed by the sound of ARs firing from behind that he now realized he’d been hearing for the past half-minute. Bobby and Marcus had arrived.
Gracie’s conversation with Father O’Brien had been unexpectedly fruitful. The old priest had already been mapping out potential resettlement locations, and he’d established radio communications with another group of survivors on a large island in Lake Huron. The Canadians were hesitant about contact with the outside world, but they were curious also. Father O’Brien was far enough away from the settlement to convince them he didn’t pose a direct threat, plus he was obviously sincere in his desire to warn them about the rogue American general who somehow was controlling large armies of the infected. The Canadians had offered to send a two-man delegation to Middle Bass, and the old priest had offered to rendezvous with them in Lake St. Clair and escort them the rest of the way. Father O’Brien told Gracie the timing seemed like divine intervention. He would follow the Detroit River to Lake St. Clair, and he would try to pinpoint several potential resettlement or rendezvous options along the way. He said he had a good feeling about the Canadians too—he understood their caution, but the people he’d been speaking with had seemed to be honest and honorable individuals. It was obvious that an alliance could be mutually beneficial.
Christy was pleased with herself for the way she’d handled Gracie’s questions, and even more so for what she now believed was her excellent idea regarding Father O’Brien’s ability to develop valuable hideout options in the Great Lakes. When Gracie recounted the priest’s communication with a settlement on an island in Lake Huron, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Christy interrupted Gracie’s report to a few of the key leaders left in Fort Wayne. “Did the island have a name?”
Deb looked annoyed, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting? I’m pretty sure that Hiram, Sal, and I can hold down the fort, no pun intended, for a day or two without your supervision. You may recall that Jack asked the three of us to oversee things here until he returns.”
“I didn’t even know we had Father O’Brien scouting islands for us, but it’s a damn good idea,” Sal interjected. “David and Jack don’t leave much to chance.”
Christy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Jack and David are amazing. And yes, I remember quite clearly that you three are the triumvirate in charge right now.” Internally, she counted to three before continuing, “I have no doubt that you all can handle things around here without me, but I really want to know more about this island. I have a cousin who lives on Manitoulin Island, and my dad talked to him before the phones went out. I don’t remember exactly what Dad said he told Michael, but Manitoulin Island is in Lake Huron.”
“Do you have any idea how many islands there are in Lake Huron?” Hiram Anderson’s smooth baritone voice had made him a hypnotic speaker in his Ward back in Utah, but Christy found his soothing tone condescending.
“Actually, I don’t,” she replied with feigned sweetness, “but I do know that my Dad shared information about how to protect yourself from the infected with one person on one island. Maybe that’s just a coincidence, but I won’t discount the importance of Jack’s knowledge and advice in those early days.”
“Agreed,” Hiram replied, “and I certainly think the chances are excellent that your relatives could have survived if they followed Jack’s advice. I was simply pointing out that there are many, many possibilities when it comes to isolated groups of survivors—“
“Of course,” Christy cut him off. “But Gracie said they’d been in radio contact. Manitoulin Island happens to be the largest island on a freshwater lake in the entire world. It has lakes of its own, with other islands on those. But my point is they have resources there—towns, hospitals, giant radio towers. And there is only one bridge connecting it to the mainland . . .” She slapped her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of this before? They ha
ve only one bridge, and the damn thing swings sideways to let boats pass!”
Sal’s eyes lit up. “How far away is this island? That could be ideal, unless people brought the infection in by boat.”
“I guess I didn’t think of it because it’s pretty damn far,” Christy conceded. “I’ve only been there a couple times, and we always drove up. It seemed like it took forever to get there. I don’t know what it would be like to try to get there by water.” She looked to Gracie. “Did Father O’Brien mention any island by name?”
Gracie shook her head. “No, but I know he’s planning to leave tomorrow.”
Christy sighed and drummed her fingers on the back of a chair before focusing in on Deb. “You are the organizational miracle worker. I know it won’t be easy, but we have more resources now than we used to—hell, we have helicopters. Tell me, how quickly could we get a team to Middle Bass to go with Father O’Brien?”
CHAPTER 7
With the increased firepower from such deadly sources as Marcus and Bobby, a gap of at least twenty meters was maintained as David, Lori, and the rest of the exhausted fighters stumbled toward the Indiana side of the bridge. Perhaps not surprisingly, the pilot and crew-chief were waiting for them at the first place they believed they could climb down into the brush and make a dash for the river.
“Why are you guys still here?” David breathlessly panted as they approached their former captives.
The pilot, seeing a score of hunters following closely behind the humans exclaimed, “Our hands are tied and we don’t have any weapons; since you let us run I’m assuming you want us alive for some reason, and we won’t be for long if we don’t stick with you!”
Carter quickly pulled out his combat knife and cut the air crew’s bonds. “We get separated, at least ya gotta chance. If ya stick with us, don’t make one threatenin’ move or I’ll havta blow yer brains out.”
“Don’t worry about that,” the pilot promised as he and his crew-chief followed Carter over the railing and into the mud below. “Just get us outta here and we’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Carter nodded before turning to Marcus, “What’d you guys set up?”
“Semtex—enough to take out at least forty meters. Bobby has the remote; we can set it off as soon as we’re sure Gabe won’t be under the explosion.”
Carter turned to David and ordered, “Get everyone to the bank ASAP.” Bobby and Marcus had opened up with their ARs again, signaling that the hunters were following them down from the bridge. “We’ll hold ‘em here till y’all find Gabe and get on them boats.”
David looked as if he wanted to protest leaving the Rangers behind, but experience had taught him that somebody had to be in charge in dangerous situations or disaster would ensue. He nodded in agreement and said, “See you in a few minutes,” before turning to lead the rest of the group down to the river.
Gabe had followed his instructions to the letter, waiting for the two teams with one raft in tow as he drifted about thirty meters from the bank. As soon as he saw Lori and Blake stumbling down a narrow path toward the water, he instantly motored toward the shoreline. The boats reached the fighters and their prisoners a few seconds later, and David radioed Carter to let him know they were safe. The gunfire slackened but didn’t completely stop, and then an earth-shattering explosion about four hundred meters away ripped through the night, leaving the people climbing into the boats nearly breathless as the shock wave passed over them.
“Holy crap!” Blake exclaimed as huge pieces of the bridge fell into the Ohio with mighty splashes that sent waves thundering in every direction.
By the time the surges of water reached them they merely rocked the boats a bit, but if they’d been a few hundred meters closer David thought that they probably would have capsized. Even the hunters seemed confused by the incredible blast, as Carter, Marcus, and Bobby came running toward the rafts with no monsters chasing them. A few minutes later the two teams, with their guests, were motoring out on the river to inspect the damage they’d caused. Everyone but Bobby was suitably impressed with the nearly fifty meter gap the explosives had created.
“Won’t take a rocket scientist to bridge that gap,” Bobby grumpily observed.
“Hey man,” Carter argued, “that was as rough a fight as I’ve been in and nobody died. Even if Barnes has the material and know-how to fix this thing, he ain’t gonna be able to do it before Jack gets down here to finish the job.”
“Uh, sir,” the pilot interrupted, “if y’all are talking about that army of flesh-eaters General Barnes is pushing through Kentucky, you don’t have to worry about them getting over that hole you just made.”
“Why you say that?” Lori immediately asked.
“Well, ma’am, he’s just got a bunch of helicopters pushing the infected along, and a few more protecting the cowboys herding the cattle. He doesn’t have any soldiers or trucks or anything. He’d have to wait for a bunch of materials to be sent up from Tennessee or Georgia before he could fix this.”
The pilot looked toward his crew chief for confirmation, and after the sergeant nodded he continued, “General Barnes ain’t exactly the patient type. He’ll just head for another bridge somewhere.”
“What’ll he do if there ain’t another bridge anywhere?” Carter asked.
The pilot chewed his lip as he mulled the question over, finally deciding, “Probably just head west; he’s been heading south and west since this whole thing started. Well, at least until he decided to head toward Indiana.”
“Carter, let’s just get the hell out of here,” David offered. “These guys don’t know anything more than the dudes we got last night, and we ought to try to get to the next bridge before morning.”
“You won’t find Barnes or his monsters anywhere west of here,” the pilot explained, sounding worried that if the conversation ended he and his crew chief might be tossed into the river.
“How can you be sure about that?” Carter wondered, ignoring David’s advice for the moment.
“All the aviation troops hung together pretty tight,” the pilot continued. “The only other soldiers around were militia and a few of those USMRIID pukes. They were constantly reminding us of the terrible things that would happen to us and our families if we failed them in any way. We hated them. We hated what Barnes was doing to survivors. Anyway, none of us would fly anywhere without letting the other guys know what our orders were. I guess we hoped that if we didn’t come back somebody would fly out to look for us, or at least try to protect our families. Before we headed to this bridge, we were all talking, and everyone kept pointing out that our chopper would be the furthest west.”
Lori looked over at Carter and shrugged, “Hope he’s telling the truth, but it doesn’t matter one way or another. David’s right about us needing to get a move on.” She motioned to the pilot and the crewman. “I don’t know what to do with these guys, though.”
The pilot stuck out his hand. “My name’s Ryan. This here is Carlos. Us guys will do whatever you tell us to. Never in a million years did I think humans stood a chance against those zombie-creatures. You’re freakin’ amazing, all of you.” Carlos vigorously nodded his agreement.
“We may be amazing,” Lori responded, “but first we’re just people who decided to stand up and fight for our survival. I appreciate the heads-up back at the Blackhawk—you saved my life—but I know I speak for all of us when I say we could never trust anybody who worked for Barnes.”
Carlos actually hung his head before muttering, “I don’t blame you.”
“We’re cowards, we admit it.” Ryan conceded sadly. “It was too easy to avoid the creatures by sticking with our helicopters. But don’t think we—pilots and crews—haven’t talked about rebellion. A few of our guys have actually crashed on purpose, but they’ve just been easily replaced. In Barnes’ air force, no one knows who to trust, and most everybody has something or someone to lose.”
“I have a son,” Carlos almost whispered. “He’s thr
ee. Barnes has him.”
Lori pictured Jenny at three, and she couldn’t contain a small sob of empathy for the man’s pain. She looked around her group, from man to man, before stating, “I would do anything for my child. Anything.” Her eyes settled on her husband. “Blake, I know you. You would too.”
Blake sighed, “Yes, dammit, you’re right. But we really don’t know these men—they could be feeding us a story to gain our sympathy, or they could be telling the truth.” The pained expression on his face betrayed his personal feelings about the matter; Blake clearly believed every word the man said.
David had a plan. “Our radios will still reach Jack; he’s not too far away in real distance, just river miles. We scrounge up a boat along the shore here and tie these two up in it, then anchor it near the breach. Jack can send a boat down here to pick these guys up and wreck the bridge some more; he needs to do that anyway.”
Carter nodded but looked sharply at the pilot and his crew chief. “I know we ain’t supposed to judge other folks, and I don’t have any kids of my own, but I don’t know how ya can live with yerselves knowin’ ‘bout all the other people’s children yer servin’ up to Barnes and his hunters.”
“Maybe you should just kill us,” the pilot replied. “Everything you said is right, and Barnes will think we’re dead anyway. Hell, I know I should be dead—my entire family died in the first week of the outbreak. In some ways I died with ‘em.” He looked at Lori. “Whether you believe me or not, I want to tell you that I didn’t have any hope before tonight. After seeing you all kill scores of those monsters, and just knowing that somebody out there is lookin’ to send Barnes back to hell, well, I just want to thank you.” He looked back at Carter, “Do whatever you need to.”
Carter believed the guy was sincere, but he also worried about the possibility, however remote, that Barnes might get his hands on him before Jack did. The two captives didn’t seem to have any more intelligence that would help the Fort Wayne force stop the hunter army’s invasion, but if they ended up back with Barnes they might cause a lot of trouble for Jack’s people. Carter had never considered himself ruthless or cruel, and in spite of Bobby’s threats to the prisoners the night before, he didn’t think his fellow Rangers were either. Still, he had to weigh the lives of these two men against those of everyone back home.
