The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  “Yeah, I’m not sitting here playing baby-sitter while you guys go have all the fun,” said Bowman. “I’m in this, too.”

  “Ok, that’s fine,” I said, grinning. “We could use you, anyway.”

  Once everyone was finished checking the load on their weapons and adjusting their armor, John came over and handed me his prized horn-bow. It was hand-made and was a work of art. It also had nearly a hundred pound pull to it. It was a beast. I’d practiced with it a few times, but I’d never hunted with it. I guess I was going to get a trial by fire, today.

  “Listen up, folks,” I said. “We’re going on a stealth run to the library.”

  That caused more than a few confused looks in my direction, but I held up my hand.

  “We’re going after special books,” I said. “Things we’re going to need to know.”

  That garnered a couple shrugs, but no complaints.

  “Since we don’t have any silenced weapons,” I said, “John and I will take point. We’ll both have bows. Do not shoot unless we have no other choice. Did I mention that we’re going on foot?”

  “Are you nuts?” asked Southard, standing up.

  “Do you really need to ask that question?” replied Spec-4, grinning.

  “Well, not really,” said Southard, settling back into his chair. “I think we all know the answer to that one.”

  “Children,” I said, smiling. “Daddy’s talking.”

  Southard tapped Spec-4 on the shoulder with the back of his hand and nodded at me.

  “Who’s your daddy?” he said, leeringly.

  In lieu of a reply, she just flipped him off.

  “Southard, I want you to stay here,” I said.

  “Hey, I was just kidding around,” he said, quickly. “I don’t want to get left behind.”

  “That’s not it,” I said. “I want you and Ian Shane to have one of the Humvees prepped and ready to go, in the event we get trapped and need extracted. I want someone who knows how to drive one of those things here, just in case.”

  “”What about Corporal Winston,” he said. “He can drive one, too.”

  “Fair enough,” I agreed. “Then I want you to go get Bill and Ian. Get them geared up and ready, just in case this goes badly.”

  “Check,” said Southard, and headed out the door at a trot.

  Bowman watched him go with an odd look on his face. I waited until Southard was down the hallway before I spoke.

  “What’s the look for?” I asked Bowman.

  “Wh..what?” he stammered. “Oh, nothing.”

  “Spill it,” I said, glaring at him.

  “I don’t know,” he said, at last. “He just hasn’t been himself, lately. He’s been really moody.”

  I explained to Bowman about what had happened to Chuck’s family. I didn’t go into all the details, but I made it clear how it happened. Bowman listened in silence.

  “That’s terrible,” he said, shaking his head. “No wonder he’s been acting different.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on him, just in case,” I said. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “I’ve noticed it, too,” said Spec-4. “Like earlier when we were clearing the vehicle sally port. He took some big risks.”

  “We all did, just going out there,” I said. “But, I get your meaning. I’ll talk to him when we get back.”

  She nodded and went back to checking her gear. John handed me two quivers of arrows and the big horn-bow we’d nicknamed “Vlad the Impaler.” It had earned that nickname for its tendency to bury arrows into the target and out the other side, making it very hard to pull the arrows out. I secured the quivers to the right side of my pack and made sure that they were in easy reach. I grabbed a roll of Sanders’ famous redneck repair tape and secured both quivers together.

  Now I had the Keltec Shotgun fastened to the left side of my pack, the big Colt on my right hip, the two Berettas attached to my interceptor vest and my M-4, slung barrel down, across my chest. That meant I’d have to keep Vlad in my hand. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed my hammer and stuck it into my belt.

  “What are you going to do with that hammer?” asked Bowman.

  “I’ve cracked quite a few skulls with it,” I said, smiling. “It’s damned useful when you get close enough.”

  “That’s closer than I want to get,” he replied, patting his rifle. “I think I’ll stick to this.”

  “Sure,” I said. “The rifle’s great until you need to take one out quietly.”

  “Get me access to a machine shop and I’ll build you all the silencers you want,” said Bowman.

  “I may take you up on that,” I replied, grinning.

  “Take you up on what?” asked Southard.

  He had just walked up with Ian Shane and Bill Winston. They both had armor and weapons on.

  “Making silencers, “I said. “Glad you guys could join us.”

  “Sorry we’re late for the party,” said Winston. “Chuck told us what you have in mind.”

  “Good,” I said. “You two prep a Humvee and stand by with a radio. If we get trapped, you guys come in like the proverbial cavalry.”

  “We can do that,” said Shane.

  “I’m counting on it,” I replied.

  “We’ll be ready,” said Winston.

  “Alright,” I said to everyone. “We head out in a few minutes.”

  We finished checking our gear and weapons. I grabbed a few big nylon range bags out of the storage room and rolled them up. Then I stuck them in Johnny Bowman’s pack and secured the straps.

  “Don’t lose those,” I said. “We’ll need them once we get inside the library.”

  “Got it,” he replied, and pulled the charging handle on his M-4.

  We headed out of the briefing room. Sanders met us at the back door and gave us all a fresh battery for our radios.

  “I might not be able to go with you,” he said, “but I can still make sure you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, Cal,” I said. “You’ll be back in this, soon.”

  “Not soon enough,” he said, smiling.

  I did a quick radio check and found everyone was ready. Then we headed out into the delivery area. After moving the Fed-Ex truck away from the gate, we all stood by and waited.

  “829 to 700,” I said into my lip-mic.

  “Go for 700,” was the response.

  “What does it look like outside the south gate?”

  “You are clear for the immediate area,” said 700. “No movement in camera range.”

  “Clear,” I replied. “Open the gate just enough for us to get through, and then secure it behind us.”

  “Copy that.”

  The gate slid open about three feet and stopped. We filed out in single-file and swept the area. I had an arrow knocked and ready. John brought up the rear, arrow at the ready. Everyone else had their weapons up. After checking down the rear fence-line, I headed across the parking lot towards the street. Across the street from us was the local utility company and the library lay just beyond it.

  We moved quickly, keeping low to avoid being seen. Once across the street, I hugged the edge of the building and moved off to the north. From past experience, we knew that the street south of us was usually crawling with zombies. So, we moved around the north end of the utility company and went around the building. There was a crowd of zombies at the intake gate, but they didn’t notice us. They were too busy trying to get through the gate.

  My heart was beating heavily in my chest as we moved around the building. Between the parking lot of the utility company and the library was a retaining wall with a metal fence on top of it. There was no way we were going over it. If we followed it south, it would take us out to the street and into a mass of the dead. North was our only option.

  I motioned for everyone to keep close and stay down. I didn’t want to risk any unnecessary noise, since we could see zombies in every direction. Crouching low, I headed for the concrete steps at the end of the wall that led up to the parki
ng lot behind an office building. I motioned for everyone to stop as I neared the top. Cautiously, I crept to the top of the stairs and peeked around the corner.

  There were cars in the parking lot, but it appeared to be zombie free. So long as we stayed low, we had a good shot at making it to the library. I could see the back door from here. Moving back down the steps, I motioned for everyone to come closer.

  “The coast looks clear, to me,” I whispered. “If we stay low and use the cars as cover, we should be able to sneak right up to the back of the library. There’s a grey service door on the northwest corner. We’ll go in that way.”

  Everyone nodded agreement, except Southard. He just gave me a grim look and a thumbs-up.

  “We’ll move out in groups of two,” I said, softly. “Stick together and keep each other in sight. When you reach the back of the library, get down and cover us while we get that door open.”

  I turned and headed back up the stairs. Spec-4 fell in behind me as the others paired up. When I reached the top, I headed off towards the nearest vehicle. Spec-4 stayed right behind me and I kept an arrow at the ready. We reached the back of a library van and crouched down. After a quick check, I motioned for the next group to move out.

  Matthews and Bowman were moving almost immediately, while Southard and John covered them. Once they were safely behind the van, Southard and John moved. It was only about a twenty-yard gap, and they covered it quickly. I held my breath until they were safely behind the van. Just as I was about to let the breath out, I heard a sound I was dreading. It was the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet.

  Leaning around the front of the van, I looked towards the sound. One lone Shambler was moving towards us. I didn’t think that it had seen us. It just seemed to be coming our way. It was on the other side of a few parked cars, so I couldn’t get a clear shot. I turned to motion for John to see if he had a shot when Southard stood up and drew his pistol.

  Before I could say anything, he just walked around the side of the van and headed right for the Shambler. Immediately, it saw the movement and headed right at him. We were extremely lucky that it wasn’t a Shrieker. If it had been, we would have been in serious trouble.

  “Damn it, Chuck,” I swore, and went after him.

  Southard walked right up to the Shambler and before it could do anything, he stuck his pistol to its forehead and fired. The gunshot was muted somewhat, but was still loud enough to echo around the area. The zombie fell in a heap and before Southard could even put his pistol away, at least four Shriekers screamed from across the street.

  I grabbed Southard by the shoulder and spun him around. The calm, detached look on his face was chilling. I almost didn’t recognize my friend. Recovering quickly, I shoved him towards the back of the library.

  “Get to the back door,” I shouted.

  Southard looked at me blankly for a second before heading off towards the library. The others were already breaking cover and sprinting for the door. I glanced around to find the Shriekers but I couldn’t see them. What I did see was about sixty zombies heading our direction. I turned and headed for the back of the library, as fast as I could run.

  When I got to the door, the others had fanned out in a defensive perimeter while Bowman worked on the door. I glanced at Southard, but had to concentrate on other things. Moving over to Bowman, I saw that he was pulling hard on the handle trying to force the lock. It wasn’t budging.

  “Use this,” I said, handing him my combat knife.

  “It’ll break,” he said, taking it.

  “Then break the damned thing! Just open the goddamned door!”

  Switching from the bow to the M-4, I took the safety off. I briefly considered going full-auto, but decided I’d better conserve the ammo. Southard, however, had other plans. Parked between us and the on-coming horde was a delivery truck. It had O’Malley’s Auto Parts on the side. Southard casually flipped his weapon to full-auto and opened fire on it.

  He controlled his bursts to three rounds and on the third burst, the gas tank on the side of the truck detonated. I could feel the heat from the explosion wash over us in a wave. Instantly, the crowd of zombies disappeared behind a wall of fire. There was no way that they could see us, through the blaze.

  Glancing back at Bowman, I saw him shove the tip of my knife into the gap in the door close to the lock. Leaning his powerful frame into the handle, I heard the door creaking. With a metallic ping, the blade snapped off about three inches from the tip. Bowman glanced at me and shrugged before shoving the broken blade back into the gap.

  The blade was much thicker towards the middle and Bowman grunted with effort as he exerted tremendous force on the door. I was certain that it was going to snap again, when there was a loud pop and the door came loose. With a sigh, Bowman pulled it open and stepped aside.

  “Ladies first,” he said, motioning for me to go in.

  “Everyone, get inside,” I said, shoving the nearest person towards the door.

  I was the last person through the door and glanced back to see if we were being followed. The fire was still blazing and only a few zombies had tried to go through it. They were burning and flailing around, but no longer pursuing us. I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.

  “Let’s find a way to secure this door,” I said, as I pulled it shut.

  It was dark inside, and everyone grabbed their flashlights. Bowman found a heavy mop and shoved it though the inside handle. He wedged it against both sides of the doorframe. I pushed on the door and it seemed solid.

  “I think that’ll do, for now,” I said. “So long as none of them saw us go in this door, they shouldn’t even try to open it.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Spec-4, glaring at Southard.

  I grabbed Southard and shoved him against a wall. I grabbed his gun arm, but he punched me in the face with his left hand. I took the punch without retaliating, and used his momentum to put him face first against the wall. My mouth was bleeding, and I silently thanked the Gods that Chuck wasn’t left handed. His armored fist hurt like hell, as it was.

  “Damn it, Chuck,” I hissed in his ear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Get off me!” he snarled, shoving back against me.

  I held him firm, but it took all my weight to do it.

  “You nearly got us all killed out there,” I snarled. “What were you thinking?”

  “I handled it,” he snapped. “No one got hurt!”

  “Not yet,” I said, quieter now. “But every zombie in the area is moving towards that explosion. Getting out of here might be impossible.”

  That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. He stopped resisting and closed his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he almost whispered, after a moment. “I didn’t think it through.”

  “Can you guys give us a sec?” I asked the others.

  “We’ll sweep the building,” said Matthews.

  “Stay away from windows and glass doors,” I said.

  They headed off in pairs, Matthews with John and Bowman with Spec-4. Once they were out of the area, I relaxed my hold on Southard’s arm.

  “I know what this is about,” I said, gently.

  Southard turned around and looked at me, his eyes moist.

  “I miss them, Wiley,” he said, not meeting my gaze.

  “I know you do, brother,” I said. “I do, too.”

  “It hurts, man,” he said, almost shrinking into himself. “It hurts, so bad.”

  “I know it does.”

  “It’s my fault,” he said, almost too softly for me to hear.

  “No, it’s not,” I said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Chuck.”

  “Yes it is! I sent them to the Evac-center. I sent them to die.”

  “You had no way of knowing that would happen,” I said. “We both trusted the government to take care of them. I never imagined they’d do something like that.”

  “I just want to be with them, again,” he said, tea
rs running down his face.

  “I know you do,” I said. “And one day, you will be. The Lady Frigga will watch over them and keep them safe until you’re with them, again.”

  “You know I don’t buy into your Viking stuff,” he said, without looking up.

  “Maybe not,” I said. “No matter what you believe in, believe that they’re in a better place. Believe that they’re waiting for you to join them and that there’s something worth fighting for. Otherwise, there’s no hope left.”

  “What does your religion say?” he asked, looking up at me.

  I hesitated for a moment, gathering my thoughts. I’m no Gothi[7] and I wanted to tell him how it felt when I took my path. How I felt like I’d come home when I took up my Thor’s Hammer. I wanted to choose my words carefully, and not make any mistakes. Chuck’s life could depend on whether I could offer him comfort and hope.

  “Ok, Chuck,” I said. “I’m not sure I have the right words, but I’ll try. We believe in a time called Ragnarok. I used to think it was a metaphor, but now I’m not so sure. Ragnarok is the end of the old world. It’s a time when even the Gods will fall. But, from the ashes of the old world, a new one will rise where we’re free from all the old troubles and pain.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “I’m not explaining it the way it needs to be, but yeah I do,” I said. “A man should always believe in something, well, bigger than himself. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  Southard didn’t say anything. I could see he was churning things over in his head.

  “Look, Chuck,” I said. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is what you believe? If you don’t believe in something then when you die, it’s over. There’s nothing. No point in anything, good or bad. However, if you believe you have something to reach for. Some reason to fight when all hope seems lost.”

  “I want to believe, Wylie,” he said, softly.

  “I’m not going to try to force my beliefs on you,” I said. “That’s not my way. If you believe you’re going to see them again, then you need to decide what you believe in. Because I still believe that there is something worth fighting for. I won’t quit until I’m dead.”

  “Ok, Wylie,” he whispered. “I’m with you.”