Hutto sat in the communications trailer listening to the progress streaming from the speakers. He continuously flipped between recent satellite images, recon photos from the prior days helicopter flights over the city, and reports retrieved from the Feds. Kilo Company was performing at the highest level possible and Hutto couldn’t be more proud of his men. He stared down at photos of the Convention Center. The photos provided an excellent overview of the Center and the surrounding grounds. It was the ideal area to set up a permanent military encampment.
“Base, Green Team.”
“Go Green.” The communications officer responded.
“Structure 5 clear. Moving to structure 8.”
“Copy Green. Structure 8.”
Hutto looked over the aerial photo labeled “GREEN” looking at the building labeled “5”. He pictured his soldier marking the building with a blue “C”. He continued scrutinizing the photos and information in front of him. His finger traced the most direct path to the Convention Center and studied areas heavy with debris.
“Call for the trail team leaders.” Hutto ordered.
Minutes later, three men walked into the communications trailer. With formalities out of the way Hutto discussed his plan and asked for honest answers from the leaders.
“Can the path be cleared with all three teams working as one?” Hutto asked. The desire to take the Convention Center weighed heavy.
The three men studied the photos for a few moments.
“Permission to speak candidly?” One soldier asked.
“Please.” Hutto replied, scanning the men’s faces before him.
“The path has two heavy areas of debris. The second one creates a choke point with two high buildings on one side of the street and a long wall on the opposite side. This can prove arduous. We will need increased ground support. Preferably sharpshooters. I don’t like the idea of getting caught in their with Runners. I can’t tell by the photos but that second area may need a demo team.”
“I can send six extra shooters and the demo team. The demo team will have to ride with you. Prep and be ready by 0700. Updated satellite photos will be available at 0640.” Hutto didn’t look up at the men as they left the trailer. He studied the Convention Center photos.
Red Team cleared the third building and moved to the next objective. A small two story office building sat secure with a large dumpster sitting in front of the main entrance and the bottom windows boarded up, a sure sign survivors were inside. The four breach soldiers sat up near the dumpster. Communicating with hand signals two of the soldiers moved the dumpster from the front door while the next two swiftly removed the door.
Without entering and using the wall as cover, the lead breach member shouted, “United States Military. We are here to help. Place all weapons on the floor and come down to the entrance.”
The soldiers stood by and waited. Sounds of footsteps could be heard on the upper floor. Multiple bodies moved around. The soldiers continued to wait not knowing if the bodies were alive or dead. Four people, two adult females, one male and one little boy walked down the stairs slowly. They shielded their eyes from the light in the doorway and cautiously approached the soldiers. Their clothes disheveled and faces dirty and withdrawn, the survivors finally spoke.
“Thank God, you finally came.” The first woman said smiling.
“Are there any more survivors in the building?”
“Just my grandmother. She’s still upstairs. She can’t walk. We had to carry her up there after boarding up the windows. We had to keep quiet all the time because they were everywhere.” The woman began crying as overwhelming relief washed over her.
The soldiers slowly entered the building.
“Are you armed?” The lead asked scanning the survivors.
“We left the guns upstairs.”
“How many?”
“Two rifles, why?”
“Just procedure. Why don’t you guys have a seat while we go get your Grandmother? There are more soldiers outside. Stay here for a moment then we’ll get you out of here.”
“What about those things out there?”
“There are none nearby. We took care of them.” The lead soldier gave hand signals to his team. The lead and a fellow soldier moved to the next room making sure the survivors were telling the truth. Once satisfied the bottom floor was clear they moved upstairs.
The lead soldier entered a well-lit room. Sunlight spilled in from an uncovered window. A musky odor made up of body odor and soiled linens filled the room. The lead soldier walked quietly in. In one corner an old lady sat against the wall with several blankets around her She could barely speak as the soldier approached her. She held a frail liver spotted hand and in a raspy voice said, “God bless you.”
“Save your strength. We’re here to help.” The soldier knelt down and touched her face. She attempted to smile and squeezed the soldier’s hand slightly. He held his gloved finger to his mouth telling the woman to remain quiet. He slowly moved his hands down near the base of her neck and with a quick jerk snapped her neck severing the spinal cord. Two quick hand signals and the soldiers moved back down to the lower level.
“OK, folks. We need to do a cursory search on each of you before we transport you out of here. Line up on that wall and turn around. Lift the back of your shirts and expose your waistline. We’ll grab a back board and bring your Grandmother down after we clear you guys.”
The survivors, excitement growing, cooperated to the fullest. The four of them lined up along the wall. The little boy looked up to his mother and smiled. She smiled back.
“I can’t believe we survived this. I can’t wait to eat a real meal.” The male survivor voiced with obvious delight at the turn of events.
Three of the four soldiers quietly raised semi auto handguns equipped with suppressors. The soldiers executed the survivors with ease ensuring no return. None of the four soldiers spoke. Executing survivors was the most difficult act to carry out but it was a necessary evil if they were to succeed in resurrecting the city.
“Red Team, structure six is clear. Terminated 5 A inside and 4 Z outside”
The team members exited the building. One member stopped and spray-painted “5” in red paint on the front of the building indicating five bodies inside.
Sixty-Five
Bring them home
Reverend Littleton heard the words clearly. He had watched Hell on earth become a reality and now in the time of the damned his calling was clear. He would lead his flock to the graces of the Lord and open the door to their salvation. Around him, dozens of followers knelt praying. Most had been brought to the brink of insanity witnessing the horrors of this Hell. Now they prayed for his guidance. Reverend Littleton stood up looking over his flock.
At the top of the stairs Gates stood with two of his armed sentries. “I don’t trust this guy as far as I can throw him. He’s up to something.” Gates told his men in a hushed voice.
Littleton looked up and smiled at Gates nodding his head. He turned his gaze to the faces before him. Wide-eyed and anxious they looked back at him waiting for his words. Enlightenment, nirvana, salvation, Littleton felt his time was near. His time to prove he was the embodiment of God was at hand.
Bring them home
The main floor of the Convention Center was packed with newly converted worshipers. Most survivors in the center had given up looking for answers to the infection and accepted Littleton’s claim that Hell had come to the face of the Earth and soon they would pass from this existence to the next. One survivor mentioned Jones Town during a time of open dialogue with Littleton. Some of the survivors were surprised when he didn’t immediately disassociate himself and the rest of them from the comparison. Now some two weeks later with food and other essential supplies dangerously low and little hope for the second supply detail, the newly converted didn’t find the idea of mass suicide outlandish or repulsive.
If Hell is here, there’s no reason to stay. One member thought. A God fearing Chr
istian her whole life, she now welcomed death as her own choice. God surely wouldn’t want us to remain here, not like this with those demons walking around outside.
Gates remained at the top of the stairs, watching Littleton closely. He stood very close to the main entrance making Gates nervous for some reason. He didn’t like people gathering so close possibly attracting zombies to the door or inadvertently opening them. Gates knew just one of those things getting in could spell disaster for him and the survivors. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to walk down the stairs and order the people away from the door. He didn’t want to come off as a dictator, he wanted to be liked, respected, almost assuring his status as a hero when the military returned.
Gates remained at the top of the stairs slipping into a marvelous daydream. His mind drifted to thoughts of grandeur as complete exhaustion took hold of his body. The lack of real sleep for the past three weeks was taking its toll. His eyes remained focused but his mind was not processing the scene unfolding before him. Murmurs spread through the group rising to meet Gates’s ears but he failed to process the information.
Littleton raised his hands to the heavens above pronouncing, “Today, I give you all salvation. I give you the key to the kingdom. Don’t be scared. Death is only the beginning.” With that, he swung around and pushed the front doors open. “WE ARE READY, OH LORD!” He screamed. Standing near the front doors, several zombies caught the movement in their limited field of vision and instantly started for the doors.
Littleton stood in the doorway with his arms out wide. Day light filtered in around him bathing him in an angelic glow. Some survivors began backing away slowly from the doors while others stepped closer to witness the coming end. A silent hush rolled over the main floor of the Convention Center. Littleton closed his eyes awaiting the end of his struggle. He fully expected to die quickly and be waiting on the other side for his new followers. A flash of light and he was gone.
Gates stood at the bottom of the staircase. Smoke trailed from the barrel of his .45 semi auto.
“That’ll be enough of that bullshit. Close those fucking doors, you idiot!” Gates yelled to a pasty white heavy man in a pit stained Spiderman t-shirt. The man grabbed the door, and pulled on it as hard as he could. The former Reverend’s body blocked the door partially keeping the man from fulfilling the task at hand. Blood and brain matter stained the front steps of the Convention Center.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Move, shithead.” Gates screamed as he shoved the man out of the way. He reached down and grabbed Littleton’s legs and swung them out the door just as a hideously deformed body staggered up and reached out for him. Gates swung a swift right hook knocking the zombie to the ground. “You’ll have your chance later.” Gates slammed the door closed.
The survivors still gathered on the main floor, staring in disbelief at the events unfolding before their eyes. Gates turned slowly around to meet their stare.
“I have no intention of being taken out by those things. I have every intention of living and taking this city back from the dead. Anybody who wants out can simply leave. But don’t for a second think I won’t fucking kill you where you stand if you endanger the lives of everybody else in this center.” The doors rattled behind Gates for a moment, then the sickening sounds of bones cracking and flesh being consumed filtered through the doors. “The military will be here in a matter of days. Rationing of supplies will start as of now. Only my men, hand picked by me will be armed from here on out. If you don’t like it, leave. Don’t fool yourselves, I am in charge of this building.” Gates scrutinized the faces before him. Once satisfied he had struck his point home, he walked through the crowd with his head held high. He walked slowly up the first few stairs stopping to speak with two of his armed sentries.
“Gather all weapons and ammunition. No exceptions. I want this place completely locked down by 1900. We only need two or three days at best before the military returns. Let’s keep them alive until then. After that, who gives a shit.” Gates continued to the top of stairs and didn’t look back. He could hear the commands shouted out from his sentries. He smiled to himself.
Sixty-Six
Ground maneuvers continued throughout the south end of the city. Building after building the dead and the living were eliminated with extreme prejudice. The soldiers were well organized and knew their roles in the siege. Confidence rose with each small town and now Kilo Company was a rolling juggernaut of death. Hutto remained in the communications trailer and couldn’t be more pleased.
Grey Team, assigned to the Cypress corridor, completed clearing a small strip mall with eight stores located in it. The mall was a snap having very little activity in or around it. Now Grey Team studied recon photos and reports filed by the helicopter team. The reports indicated several survivors in a grocery store with vehicles in front. Recent satellite photos showed a large gathering of zombies in the parking lot.
The team leader read the reports then passed them around. He removed the cap from his canteen sipping the cool water within it. His throat had been dry for most of the morning. More than likely caused by nerves, he thought. The remaining men in Grey Team reviewed the photos and reports. The Team leader, Larry Weissen, stood before the team speaking, “Our next objective is this store. You’ve all read the reports. Any thoughts?”
“We need to clear the parking lot from a distance. I suggest we take a little target practice with the scopes and knock’em down one by one. Six shooters and four guards.” A fellow soldier said to the group.
“Not bad. That may just work and keep us out of harms way. We need to set up in the street at the southeast corner of the lot. Once we have dispatched the zombies we can eliminate the threat in the store. With any luck, we will gain their trust by taking out the zombies and they will come out on their own accord. Nobody fires at survivors without my word and remember, head shots.” Weissen stepped up into the passenger seat of the Humvee giving the order to move.
The Humvee stopped a block away from the parking lot. Six men spread out searching for cover. The remaining four, including Weissen set a perimeter. The parking lot was crawling with zombies. A few were on the street near the Grey Team but were eliminated with knives in an attempt to minimize any more attention. Weissen returned to the Humvee observing their set up. He gave the signal and the shooters began target practice.
Using single shot action on their assault rifles, the soldiers found their targets and fired. One by one in rapid formation the zombies dropped. Once again they were dead but this time they weren’t getting back up. The zombies simply proved to be nothing more than slow moving targets.
Standing near the front of the store, a runner captured the movement. It sprinted towards the closest soldier knelt down by a tree across the street. Weissen aimed and fired missing the mark. Weissen took aim again leading the zombie a bit before firing. The head of the blackened running corpse exploded as the body slammed to the pavement shaking violently.
A foul smell lofted through the air. Weissen was finally becoming accustomed to the odor of rotting corpses. Deteriorating brain matter of a zombie had a distinct pungent smell. At first he and the other soldiers of Kilo Company tried wrapping bandanas around their noses and mouths or using Vic’s vapor rub to mask the smell but it did little to help.
With the runner down and the rest of the Walkers falling, the operation appeared to be progressing smoothly. One by one the zombies dropped in the parking lot. Inside the grocery store Jack and the remaining men from the supply detail stood watching with big smiles on their faces.
“I can’t believe we’re actually going to get out of here.” Adam Derroll stated aloud.
“We’ll be able to get this food and water back to the Center with their help. Couldn’t have come a better time if you ask me.” Jack said peering between stacked cases of bottled water near the front doors of the store.
The shooting continued till the last of the zombies dropped. The odor of rotting brain matter filled the air and was almost to
o much to take. One soldier near the Humvee vomited. Weissen gave hand signals and the team moved cautiously into the parking lot. He picked up a bullhorn and announced, “This is the United States Military. We are here to help. Please lay down your weapons and step out through the front door. This is just a precautionary step.”
Jack looked around at the men in the store and said, “What do you think?”
“Let’s do what they ask. Did you see how fast they cleared the parking lot?” The driver of the Dodge pickup said. He stood up and slipped on his heavy leather jacket and sat his rifle on the floor.
“I agree.” Adam added setting his multiple firearms on the floor.
“With all that has happened over the past three weeks I want to take this slowly. I don’t like the idea of laying down all our weapons. I think we should hold onto them.” Jack explained clinching his shotgun.
“He’s right. How do we know these guys are legit? They may be…scavengers or pirates.” Another member of the detail said, holding his rifle as well.
“Pirates. We aren’t at sea. These guys are clearly military. We should do what they ask.” A second member of the detail stated placing his weapons on the floor.
I’m taking my weapons, this is still a free country and we’ve survived this long. I’ll be damned if I give up my guns now.” The heavy-set man said picking his weapons up off the floor.
“OK, lets do this. We keep our weapons out in the open and simply tell them we’re not giving them up.” Jack said holding his shotgun close with one hand and placing a small handgun in his waistband near the small of his back. His jacket fell over the gun.
The front doors slid open and slowly the remaining six men from the supply detail stepped out into the open.
“Place your weapons on the ground. This is only a precaution. We will have you out of here shortly.” Weissen shouted over the bullhorn. The soldiers of Grey Team stood at the ready with their weapons at their sides. They didn’t want to appear hostile and they surely didn’t want to become involved in a gun battle with pissed off survivors.
Welcome to Necropolis Page 26
