“All vehicles,” I practically screamed into the mic, “keep moving. Do not stop for anything! Gunny, get them the fuck out of here!”
“Copy,” said Gunny.
I could see the convoy accelerate and continue. Sporadic weapons fire was striking some of the vehicles and a second RPG round struck the FedEx truck that Milkman was driving. It went up in a fireball, taking the three men inside of it straight to the next world on a funerary pyre of exploding ordinance. It came down on the passenger side and exploded a second time, completely engulfed in flames. We’d just lost good men and a truckload of food.
“Damn it!” I screamed. “All units, get moving. Don’t slow down for anything.”
In lieu of a response, the remaining vehicles just accelerated hard. Cal continued to rain down lead onto the parking lot until he was out of range. The Hemmitts had no problem continuing on, since nothing was big enough to stop them short of an RPG round. Corporal Winston continued to strafe the parking lot as his Humvee sped on after the convoy.
Spec-4 concentrated her fire on a panel van and a modified pick-up that was in the Freeman style. The van exploded when she hit the fuel tank as the pick-up tried to make its escape. It didn’t make it far before she raked them with the SAW, as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. A quick glance and I could see that it was a two-man crew with RPG launchers. They were setting up to take a shot at us.
“Wilder, on your right!”
She swung her fire just as one of the Freeman let fly with his RPG. He had aimed slightly ahead of us, anticipating our position. No sooner had his rocket cleared the tube than Spec-4 walked her fire into them, cutting them both to ribbons. I slammed on the brakes and tried to avoid the incoming rocket, but I didn’t make it.
The projectile struck the front of our Humvee right above the driver’s side front tire. I felt the explosion before I heard it. Then there was the sensation of movement as it shredded the front end of the vehicle and sent us spinning. I struck my head on the steering wheel as we slammed into the burning wreckage of Milkman’s truck. I could already smell fuel and knew we didn’t have long to get out of the Humvee before it exploded.
Grabbing my pack, I shoved the door open and dove out. Spec-4 was lying forward on the roof. I could see blood on her face and she didn’t seem to be breathing. For a moment, I thought she was dead. The heavy rain had plastered her hair to her face, obscuring her eyes. The rain did nothing to stop the growing fires and I was expecting the fuel tanks to go at any second.
“Wilder!” I screamed, my ears still ringing from the explosion.
Dazed, she slowly raised her head and looked at me with confusion in her eyes.
“Wylie,” she said, slowly.
“We’ve got to move,” I shouted. “Come on!”
Slowly, she climbed out of the top of the turret and shook her head trying to clear it. I looked around quickly and saw that there had to be at least fifty zombies coming our way from several different directions. We didn’t have long before they swarmed us. The Gods must have been smiling on us, because I didn’t see any Sprinters.
“Move it, Corporal!” I bellowed in my loudest command voice.
That seemed to snap her out of her fog and she started moving faster. Fire was licking up from the hood and almost reaching the SAW when she turned to reach back into the Humvee for her pack. We didn’t have time to spare. I grabbed her by the calf and pulled her down from the roof.
“Screw the gear,” I snapped. “We’ve got to move, NOW!”
The only gear she had was her pistols and body armor. Her left leg nearly buckled as she tried to walk and I had to grab her to keep her from falling. I could see blood soaking into the fabric of her left thigh. I glanced around quickly and saw only one building that looked even remotely defensible. It was a pawnshop and gun store across the road from us. The front door was steel and there weren’t any windows on the ground floor. Although it was a multi-leveled building, the roof at the back looked low enough for us to climb.
“Over there,” I said, pointing. “Let’s move.”
I handed Spec-4 my M-4 and put her left arm around my neck, taking her weight on my shoulders. The closest zombies were still over a hundred yards away, but I was more concerned that some of the Freemen might have survived. We headed off towards the pawnshop as fast as we could go. Spec-4 couldn’t put any weight on her left leg. She could only lean on me and hobble along. She grimaced in pain with every step, but to her credit didn’t cry out.
We hadn’t made it more than a dozen yards when the Humvee exploded behind us. The blast threw us both onto our faces and sent us sprawling. Heat washed over us and I glanced back to see the burning debris that had once been our ride. Fifty yards beyond it laid the wreckage of the Humvee that had belonged to Sheriff Daniels. Both Daniels and Shane were friends of mine. Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I thought of them and their families.
Forcing myself to my feet, I pulled Spec-4 up beside me. Once she was up, I got us moving towards the back of the building again. It was going to be close. The closest group of zombies would be on us about the time we got there. There were only about a dozen of them, but that was twelve too many. Hel, with the shape we were both in two was too many.
Using her free hand, Spec-4 started taking shots with the M-4. By the time we’d reached the back of the pawnshop, she’d cut the group down to six. The M-4 clicked empty and we didn’t have time for me to fish out another magazine for her to reload. We just had to keep moving. At the back of the shop was a trash dumpster. If we could reach it, we might have a shot at getting onto the roof.
“Leave me here,” she said, almost sobbing. “We’ll never make it.”
“Not a chance,” I said. “We make it together or not at all.”
She just looked at me with her pale blue eyes misty from tears and nodded. I pushed as hard as I could with Spec-4 struggling to keep up. When we made it to the dumpster, I had her grab hold of it while I tossed my pack up onto the roof. It hit me just as I let go that my shotgun was still attached to it. I didn’t have time to curse. The zombies were less than twenty yards away.
I lifted her up onto the trashcan and steadied it while she got her footing. With a lurch, she grabbed the edge of the roof and started scrambling to pull herself up. I grabbed her boot and pushed as hard as I could. Together we managed to get her enough lift to reach the edge. Seconds later, she was crawling onto the roof.
I glanced back towards the zombies. They were less than twenty feet away, now. I silently breathed a prayer of thanks that none of them had been Sprinters or we would never have made it. Still, there was no way I was going to have time to climb onto the roof before they grabbed me and pulled me back down. With a look of grim determination on my face, I pulled out the big Army Colt and switched it to my left hand. Then I pulled my hammer out of my belt and slipped the thong around my right wrist.
For as long as I could remember, I fought the rage that sometimes burned in my blood. My mother used to say I had “the Devil’s own temper.” When I was a kid, it controlled me. I got into a lot of fights, growing up. As I grew, I learned to control it. To fight it down and keep it contained. This time, I didn’t fight it. I let it flow through my veins with reckless abandon. The burning vehicles in the background only added fuel to the fire of my rage. Those were funeral pyres for my friends. My rage erupted from me with volcanic fury.
With a cry that was more bestial than human, I charged the oncoming crowd of zombies. Although I held a pistol in my left hand, in my rage I forgot all about it. Instinct took over and I waded into them to fight, hand to hand. I struck the lead zombie in the face with the full force of my hammer. The audible crunch of the skull only drove me on and I bellowed my fury in a voice as loud as the thunder, itself. As it flew over backwards, I was already spinning away and to the left.
As I came around, I swung the hammer in a wide arc taking the next zombie in the side of the head. It struck with skull-crushing force a
nd the second zombie fell beside the first. Another roar erupted as the battle-rage continued to scream through my veins. The third zombie grabbed me by the arm, but I twisted and stepped inside its reach. Swinging the hammer around and in an upward arc I slammed the thing in the chin, lifting it off of its feet. My vision grew tinged with red as my bloodlust grew. I let fly with another wordless scream of animalistic ferocity, whirling towards the next target.
Zombie number four stumbled over the body of zombie number three and I struck it in the back of the head as it fell. The Shamblers seemed to be moving in slow motion as I struck it once more in the face, before it hit the ground. The next closest zombie was still nearly fifteen feet away. With a battle-cry that would wake the Gods, I turned and threw the hammer at zombie number five. It flew true, nailing it in the bridge of the nose. With the force of the tremendous impact, the bones in the face gave way and spewed the contends of the skull across the rain-soaked ground. The creature crumpled to the ground lifeless once more, and fell into a rapidly expanding puddle of rainwater with a big splash.
With one smooth motion, I leveled the pistol at the remaining zombie and cocked the hammer. I shot it through the forehead at less than three paces. Rancid gore exploded from the back of its skull as it took one more step before collapsing in a heap atop zombie number three. I leaned my head back and let the rain run down my face for just a moment, screaming to the heavens. I could feel the rush of adrenalin still flowing through me and my roar only added to the intensity of my rage. I wasn't finished, yet.
I quickly recovered my hammer and scanned the immediate area. The heat of my anger hadn’t cooled any as I looked for more threats. I could see close to twenty zombies following two of the Freemen into the grocery store. Six more were shuffling after the convoy and another seven were converging on the wreckage of the lead Humvee. I could see movement near the roof. Someone was alive. I was moving before I knew what I was doing.
Without a second thought, I charged towards the Humvee. I didn’t know who was alive or how badly they were hurt. All I knew was that there was no way I was going to leave them to the zombies. With another primal scream, I charged at them with weapons ready. My feet fairly flew over the puddles of gore and rain that were collecting around me. Time seemed to slow and my focus narrowed to the zombies that were closing in on my fallen friends. Right then, nothing else mattered. I would either save them, or avenge their deaths.
I leveled the pistol and took a shot at one of the closest zombies. I saw hair, blood and an ear explode from the side of its head but it didn’t fall. I did get its attention, though. As it turned around, I fired again. This time, the shot was better. The round struck the turning zombie in the mouth, taking out the brainstem and dropping it instantly. My voice was guttural and ragged and I grunted with each step I took.
My next round took out another target, but I missed the next two. When the pistol clicked on an empty cylinder, I howled in rage. I covered the distance to the zombies in less than ten seconds and drove the hammer into the back of the skull of the nearest one, dropping it. In a flurry of blows, I took out the remaining zombies one by one with bone splintering efficiency. Unfortunately, not before two of them had begun biting chunks out of the body on the ground. It was Sheriff Daniels.
With my heart jackhammering in my chest and my breath heaving, I looked around wild-eyed at the carnage. There were more zombies coming from almost every direction. There were dozens of them, maybe hundreds. I quickly reloaded the old revolver with surprisingly steady hands and glanced down at the bodies of two of my friends. Ian Shane had died instantly from the explosion of the RPG. His face was shredded and his body was blown almost in half. Water and blood ran in rivulets off of his face and onto the ground.
Sheriff Daniels lay there, covered in blood and badly burned. He’d managed to crawl out of the turret hatch while the Humvee burned. The vehicle was on its side and it was the only way he could get out. The zombies had done a number on his stomach and left leg. He’d been alive when they got to him. I was sure of that. I’d seen him moving. The zombies had finished the job the Freemen had started. Sheriff Daniels was gone.
I could see his eyelids starting to flutter open. He was turning. I raised the pistol and pointed it at his head. It struck me then that this was the second time I’d put down a Sheriff of Nathanael County with the same gun. The thought made me cringe and close my eyes for a moment. I said a silent prayer to the Gods that they guide these two warriors to their rest. They’d both earned it. There was a huge clap of thunder and a massive flash of lightning that split the air above me. Thor had heard me.
Opening my eyes, I locked my gaze on the dead eyes fixed on me. Without hesitation, I shot it in the forehead before it had a chance to make its first kill as a zombie. Then, just to be safe, I put one round through the skull of Ian Shane. It pained me to do it, but it was the only mercy I could give them. I would expect no less from either of them, if it had been me lying there on the ground. I refused to become one of the living dead.
“Goodbye, brothers,” I whispered.
I let my head slump to my chest in grief for my fallen friends. In the pouring rain, no one could have known I was crying. I glanced up when I heard Spec-4 yelling my name.
“Wylie!” she screamed. “They’re coming!”
From down the road, I could see close to a dozen zombies coming our way. This group was all Sprinters. They would be here in minutes. I reached down and grabbed the Silver Star off of the chest of Sheriff Daniels. Then I grabbed Ian’s, as well. Shoving them both in my pocket, I took off towards the pawnshop as fast as I could go. I wasn’t carrying enough firepower to take on a dozen Sprinters.
I reached the back of the pawnshop when I heard gunfire erupt from the grocery store. The Freemen weren’t going down without a fight. I glanced up to see that the Sprinters had heard the shots and were now heading for the grocery store. Another flash of lightning lit up the front of the store and I could see half a dozen of the Freemen fighting their way inside. They might have lacked our training, but they made up for it in sheer ferocity. They putting up one Hel of a fight.
“They’re all yours, assholes,” I whispered as I climbed onto the dumpster.
I scrambled up and reached for the edge of the roof. Spec-4 reached down and grabbed my hand. I knew she wasn’t strong enough to pull me up, but it did give me just enough support that I could grab the edge of the roof with my free hand. The rain made our grip difficult, but we struggled through it. With her help, I was able to scramble onto the roof. I collapsed on my back, breathing heavily. She lay down next to me, exhausted.
“Well,” she said between breaths, “now what?”
“Let me catch my breath,” I wheezed.
“Sure thing, old-timer,” she said, smiling.
We lay there for several minutes, catching our breath and resting. I didn’t mind the rain that was soaking us. If felt good on my face and skin. Like a gentle reminder that I was still alive. I could no longer hear gunfire coming from the grocery store, so I figured that the zombies had won. Peeking over the edge of the roof, I could see that the remaining zombies in the area were heading for the store. That was good news for us.
By boosting her up, I got her up on the next level of the building. We used my pack straps to help me to join her. Once we were there, it was easy to get onto the shingled part of the roof. Slowly and quietly to not attract the attention of the zombies, we made our way to the front of the store and the only windows on the building. I used a combat knife to break the lock and raise the window.
Once we were inside, I closed it behind us. We were in a small room that looked like an office. A small desk cluttered with paperwork and a computer was in one corner of the room. There was also a desk chair and a couch. I helped Spec-4 to the couch and eased her onto it. We were both soaked to the skin and I knew we’d have to find some dry clothing to change into or we’d both catch pneumonia.
“How’s the leg?” I asked.
“Then you stay here while I clear the building.”
“I’d tell you to be careful, but I don’t think you know what that means,” she said, softly.
Grinning, I pulled out my flashlight and clicked it on. Then I grabbed my Keltec shotgun from my backpack and headed for the door. I glanced back to see her pulling out her pistol and checking the load. She was tough. Even wounded, she was ready to fight. I just hoped that the building was clear. We didn’t need to attract the attention of every zombie outside. There were two more rooms on the upper floor, a bathroom and a room with a small bed and dresser. It also had dozens of boxes piled along one wall, all labeled “Receipts” and had a month and year written on them.
“Hel of a filing system,” I muttered.
Other than that, the room was clear. I turned and headed down the stairs to the ground floor. It was extremely dark downstairs. There were no windows at all to allow in outside light. I knew it was for security reasons, but it made it hard to see. I was glad that it meant less to defend but it also kept us in the dark, literally. With all of the tables, racks and hanging displays, the room was one massive shadow. It was going to be difficult to locate anyone hiding in here.
I swept the back room and found it full of tools, leather jackets, old computers, stereos and various items of enough value to pawn. I swept the light around and under tables, keeping the shotgun ready. I fell back on my military training and kept the sight of the weapon trained where my eyes went. My upper body moved in precision, keeping the shotgun in optimal firing position. The back room was clear.
Moving into the main room, I swept from right to left. The front room was full of guns. Most of them were old, but looked serviceable. There was one wall of assault-style weapons. I knew that they would all be the civilian models, but I was thrilled to have them. The glass fronted counter was full of handguns. Shelves behind the counter were loaded with ammo. We’d hit the mother lode. There was no way in Hel that we would be able to carry all of it, though.
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