The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  “The fact that when we test fired the mini-gun, it scooted across the floor,” he said. “It had to be secured to something heavy or it couldn’t be used. Too much recoil.”

  “Well, you just turned a Hemmitt into an APC,” I said. “Way to go.”

  We rolled up to the gate and a small group was gathered behind the barrier. Webber was on top of the guard shack with a pair of binoculars, scanning the horizon. We rolled to a stop and I climbed out. As an afterthought, I leaned back inside the cab and motioned at Bowman.

  “Hey,” I said, “back this thing up to the fence just in case we need that mini-gun.”

  “Got it,” he replied.

  I dropped to the ground and shut the door. Then I hustled over to the ladder that was against the side of the guard shack. Bowman backed up to the fence and cut the engine. With the newfound silence, I heard the music that Webber was talking about. It sounded like children’s music. It was melodic and high pitched, like it was played on a gigantic music box.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked, taking position beside Webber.

  “It’s a goddamned Ice Cream Truck!” he exclaimed, pointing to the road southwest of us.

  He handed me the binoculars and I quickly found what he was talking about. A garishly painted Ice Cream Truck with a huge speaker system on top was coming our way at about five miles per hour. It was blasting the ice cream song just as loud as the speakers would go. That wasn’t the problem. The real problem was that it was leading a massive horde of zombies right at us.

  “It’s a fucking zombie Pied Piper!” I bellowed. “They’re bringing them right to our door!”

  “Sound the alarm!” yelled Gunny. “Get everyone with a gun up here on the fucking double!”

  “That’s got to be a suicide mission,” said Webber. “How the hell were they planning on escaping if they led them right to us?”

  “I don’t know, man,” I replied. “But I think we’re about to find out.”

  Just as the truck turned into the driveway for the Underground, it accelerated hard, leaving the crowd of zombies in their wake. Even the Sprinters weren’t able to keep up. They braked to a halt about thirty yards from the gate and I saw the back door of the truck fly open. Then I heard someone trying to kick-start a motorcycle.

  “The fuck you do,” I snapped. “Bowman, light ‘em up!”

  I heard the electric motor that turned the barrels of the mini-gun begin to spool up to speed. Just as it reached a crescendo, the massive gun came to life belching fire, flame and death. It instantly shredded the Ice Cream Truck and destroyed both motor and sound system. The motorcycle leapt from the back of the truck and tried to head across the field. Bowman adjusted his aim and walked the fire right into the motorcycle, turning the bike into confetti and the rider into a cloud of red mist.

  Then the lead Sprinters came charging down the road. There had to be over a thousand zombies coming for us. They stretched back beyond our driveway and out of sight. There could be tens of thousands of them. The worst part was, the more of them we killed, the more the noise would attract more. It was a no-win situation. Our position was compromised. The problem was, we had nowhere to run. The goddamned Freemen had hit us back, maybe even worse than we had hit them.

  Bowman walked his fire right into the crowd and was cutting through row after row of the dead like a sharp scythe through wheat. I glanced over at him and saw that he had written H.B.D.C. on the side of the gun. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I intended to ask him. If we survived, that is. Right now, that was a mighty big uncertainty.

  More and more people arrived and started taking up positions on the line. I was about to start directing the fire when a bad feeling fell over me. What if this was a distraction? What if they were keeping all of our attention on this entrance while they made a run on another?

  “Gunny!” I bellowed.

  “Yeah,” he called from a few feet away.

  “Take a team and get to the other side of the Underground,” I called. “Check the other entrance and make sure this isn’t a distraction.”

  “Ooh Rah!” he called back.

  I saw him grab Webber, Winston, Ramirez and the Rangers and head off across the compound. Then I keyed the mic on my radio.

  “Josh,” I called, “do you copy?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, “what do you need?”

  “I need you in the Hive,” I instructed. “I want you on the cameras. I want to know if you see anyone or if any of the cameras go offline unexpectedly. Treat it like an attack.”

  “On my way,” he replied. “I’ll advise when I’m in position.”

  “Copy,” I replied. “Gunny, maintain radio contact with me or the Hive.”

  “Roger,” he replied.

  Another thought went through my head. Even if we won, it would take a humongous toll on our ammo supply. This was going to be a costly defense.

  “Conserve your ammo!” I called out. “Make your shots count!”

  Spec-4 and Southard started moving up and down the line relaying the order. The dead just kept coming. They were still stretched out farther than we could see around the bend in the road. We would run out of ammo long before we ran out of the dead. We had to come up with a better plan.

  “Gunny to Grant.”

  “Go!” I replied.

  “Looks like your gut was right again,” he said. “We caught a group with a cutting torch trying to cut their way into the rail entrance.”

  “Did you discourage them?” I asked.

  “Hell no,” he replied. “We fucking destroyed them. That guy McDonald is a hell of a shot. He hit the welding tanks and blew them up. It was fucking fantastic.”

  “Copy that,” I said. “Do a quick check of the perimeter and get back here on the double.”

  “Ooh Rah!”

  “Out,” I said.

  “Wylie, this is Josh.”

  “Go ahead,” I answered.

  “The cameras look clear. There are too many of the dead along the west side for them to hit our defenses from that way. Your people stopped the attempt on the north side. There aren’t any entrances on the east side, so that’s clear. That only leaves the south entrance.”

  “Yeah,” I replied, “we’ve got our hands full here.”

  “Copy that,” he said. “I’ll stay on the cameras and let you know if anything changes.”

  “Clear,” I said, ending the conversation.

  As I surveyed the carnage that was going on around me, I started to form an idea. If they could play Zombie Pied Piper to bring all the zombies to us, then someone could play the same thing and lead them all away. The problem was it was likely to be a one way trip for whoever went.

  We were going to have to cease fire and pull everyone back inside. If the outer perimeter wall would hold until we could act, I would take a small team outside the wire on the east end of the property, then circle around and engage the zombies from a different direction. Once we had their attention, it was just a matter of drawing them off.

  I’d have Ramirez rig the south entrance to blow and collapse it, before we’d let the zombies inside the perimeter. We could still get out the north entrance, but it was more exposed than this side. If our luck held, we might be able to draw them away without having to do it. Given the alternatives, I’d rather lose the entrance than lose the Underground.

  “Wilder!” I called.

  She came running up with Matthews right behind her.

  “What do you need?” she asked, ready to run for anything.

  “Get a Humvee ready and loaded with ammo,” I said. “Then while the zombies attention are on the defenses, we’ll sneak it over to the east fence.”

  “What for?” she asked, confused.

  “I’m going to take it outside and try to draw them off,” I explained.

  “Not alone, you’re not,” she said, adamantly.

  “It might be a one way trip,” I told her.

  “We either come back together or we rid
e the cold wind to Valhalla together,” she said, smiling.

  “I’m in, too,” said Matthews. “You’ll need me. Besides that, Valhalla is that place where you drink mead and hang out with hot blondes, right?”

  “Something like that,” I replied, chuckling.

  “Then I’m definitely in,” he said. “I’ll go get the Humvee. Give me five minutes.”

  Then he jumped in one of the Underground trucks and spun his tires as he accelerated down the ramp. I turned back to Spec-4 and leaned towards her so she would be sure to hear me.

  “Listen,” I said. “Go down the line and tell everyone when I call for a cease fire, I want everyone to stop shooting and fall back into the Underground. I mean everyone, too. No exceptions.”

  “On it,” she said without hesitation.

  Just as I was turning to head back the other direction to repeat the orders, Gunny and his team returned. So I went to them and brought them up to speed.

  “Do you really think it will work?” asked the First Sergeant.

  “Do we have a choice?” I replied. “If we continue with what we’re doing now, we’ll be out of ammo in less than an hour. Then we’re screwed.”

  “Agreed,” he replied. “Good luck to you, Sheriff.”

  He stuck out his hand and I took it. He had a firm grip and he held my gaze for a moment.

  “I was wrong about you,” he said, after a moment. “You’re a good man, Grant. It’s been an honor serving with you.”

  “Likewise, Top,” I said. “Don’t count us out, just yet.”

  “I won’t,” he replied. “I still owe you a drink.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” I said, smiling.

  I turned to see Matthews come driving up the ramp in one of the Humvees and head off towards the east end of the field. The zombies didn’t notice, with all of the gunfire that was going on around us. Spec-4 came trotting up as I was turning to head after Matthews.

  “Wait for me,” she called. “You weren’t planning on leaving without me, were you?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied.

  “Good,” she said. “Ramirez is already placing the charges, just in case.”

  “Let’s move out,” I said.

  “We’ll hold until you get back,” said Gunny. “You just worry about getting your own asses back here.”

  “We will,” I assured him.

  We headed off to where Matthews was waiting with the Humvee. Weasel-face came up behind us with an industrial forklift. He was going to move one of the tractor trailers so we could go through the fence. Once we were out, he’d seal the gap and we were on our own. I gave him the thumb’s up and he pulled the trailer out of its place. I ran over to the fence and cut a section open with my multi-tool.

  Once Matthews was through the fence, I zip tied it shut while Spec-4 covered me. Then we ran for the doors. Weasel-face was already shutting the gap behind us. I took the wheel from Matthews and he ran around to the passenger side. I locked my door and motioned for Spec-4 to get in the turret.

  “Sink or swim, live or die, the dye is cast,” I said, “We have crossed the Rubicon.”

  “Who said that?” asked Spec-4.

  “Shakespeare,” I replied, grinning.

  “Good quote,” said Matthews.

  “Attention all units,” I said into the radio, “Cease fire and fall back!”

  Seconds later, I could hear the sounds of gunfire dying down, then ceasing completely. I knew we had to give them time to get out of sight of the dead before we began our run. If we started too early, we might not get their complete attention. If we gave it just long enough for everyone else to get out of sight, we could engage and start drawing them off.

  “Gunny,” I said into my mic, “let me know when everyone is inside.”

  “Got it,” he replied.

  “Ramirez,” I said, “are you ready?”

  “Ready,” he said.

  “Good,” I replied. “Don’t detonate unless they breach the perimeter.”

  “Understood,” he said.

  A few tense moments passed before the call finally came.

  “Gunny to Grant,” he said. “All units are inside and secure.”

  “Outstanding, Gunny! Wish us luck!”

  “Just come back to us, son,” he said, softly. “Be careful.”

  “We will,” I replied. “Josh, stand by on the cameras and let us know if it’s working.”

  “Copy that,” he replied.

  “Alright, folks,” I said to Matthews and Spec-4. “Let’s play the undead version of follow the leader. Lock and Load!”

  “Ready!” said Spec-4.

  “Ready!” said Matthews.

  “Valhalla, here we come,” I said and shifted into gear.

  I punched the accelerator to the floor and spun the wheel to the right. We were churning up grass and dirt as the big four-wheel drive dug in and took off. As we reached the corner of the fencing, I was already starting to see the crowd of zombies. It looked like every zombie in Springfield was on our back doorstep.

  “This had better work,” I whispered as we slid around the corner.

  As soon as we cleared the edge of the fence, Spec-4 brought the SAW to life. She started raking the nearest ranks of the dead. Some of them were only wounded, but I did see a number of them fall and not rise again.

  “Matthews, keep feeding her ammo belts,” I said as I swung around and angled away from the crowd of zombies.

  “On it,” he replied, and started opening ammo crates.

  No sooner had he opened the first one, the SAW went silent. Without even looking up, he held the ammo belt up into the turret. Spec-4 didn’t have to do more than move her hand to grab it. Instantly, she began changing out the belt as I started to take off away from the crowd. I had to be careful to not go too fast and risk losing them. If I lost them, they would wander off and most-likely end up right back at the gate. The timing on this was going to be tricky.

  A large group of Sprinters was almost on top of us when the SAW came back to life. She made short work of them and then spun the barrel back to the crowd near the gate. More and more zombies were turning and coming towards us. It was working, but it was taking far longer than I had anticipated. If we drove slowly enough for the Shamblers to keep up, we’d get swarmed by the Sprinters. If we outran the Sprinters, we’d lose the Shamblers. The likelihood of disaster was high.

  I cut back across the grass and headed for the opening in the fence where we’d busted through to get to the C-130 crash. Since it was a small opening between two fence posts, it would force the Sprinters into a narrow opening. From there we could thin them out quite a bit to buy time for the Shamblers to catch up. Spec-4 must have had the same idea, because no sooner had we cleared the fence she started raking the Sprinters.

  When the crowd of Shamblers caught up, they didn’t just force through the small opening. They piled up against the barbed wire fence and through sheer weight of the bodies, collapsed the fence and came through en masse. It was frightening to see what they could do in large numbers. Despite the solid reinforced fence we had in place around the Underground, there were more than enough of them to simply overwhelm it and get through. Our little game of distraction had to work.

  Heading across the pasture, I drove south towards the fence and the highway beyond it. I wasn’t getting to any more then about ten miles per hour so the zombies wouldn’t lose interest. I decided to check in with the Hive and find out how well it was working.

  “Grant to Josh,” I said into the mic.

  “Go ahead,” he replied.

  “How’s it looking on camera?”

  “It seems to be working,” he replied. “There are more than a few Crawlers that are getting left behind, but nothing we can’t handle. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

  “Copy that,” I answered. “Out.”

  When we reached the fence, I just smashed through it. Then we bounced through the ditch and onto the road. L
eft would take us out into the country and right would take us back into Springfield. It would be easier to lose them in the streets of town than it would be on a country road. Besides that, the worst of the looting had been done in town. If there were still untouched resources to be had, it would be in the country.

  Careful to keep my speed down, I headed back into town. It was riskier to go into town but in the long run it would be better. There were lots of alleys, parking lots and side streets where we could lose them once we were safely away from the Underground. Just as we were reaching the overpass that led over the interstate, Spec-4 reached in for another belt of ammo. Matthews slapped on into her hand and kept opening crates.

  “Cease fire,” I said into my headset.

  “Copy,” said Spec-4. “Why?”

  We have their attention. Don’t use the ammo unless they start to lose interest. We can’t kill them all, so we might as well save the ammo.”

  “Got it,” she replied. “Should I stay on the turret or come back inside.”

  “Stay up there, for now,” I said. “Once we know we’re clear, you can climb back in and we’ll lose them.”

  “Base to Grant,” said Josh on the radio.

  “Go ahead,” I answered.

  “Looks like the last of the stragglers wandered off following the horde,” he said. “All that’s left out there are Crawlers and the completely dead.”

  “Once you’re sure they’re gone,” I said, “send the Rangers and Gunny up topside with suppressed weapons. Mop up the moving, but tell them to be wary of the ones that aren’t. When in doubt, shoot it in the head just to be sure.”

  “Copy that,” he replied. “When should we expect you back?”

  “Hard to say,” I said. “We’re going to lead them deep into town, then ditch them and double back. It shouldn’t be more than a few hours, at the most.”

  “Clear,” he responded. “We’ll be watching for you.”

  “Out,” I said, ending the transmission.

  A tense fifteen minutes passed as we slowly led the procession of the dead back into town. As we passed a small municipal airport, I began to wonder if there were any small aircraft left inside the hangers. If there were, we had a pilot. It might be nice to use one of the planes to scout for the Freemen, assuming that they didn’t just shoot it down. I couldn’t rule out the possibility that we hadn’t eliminated all of their supplies.