by Dirk Patton
Raising the binoculars I checked the edges of the pavement again. Infected flowed through the woods in numbers too large to count but the shooters were spread along a nearly half mile front and were keeping them back for the moment. I looked to the east where the terrain should be working in our favor, and for the moment saw nothing moving. Back to the highway I watched as the press of infected bodies continued to increase as they flowed forward and over their dead brethren. The males were stumbling over the difficult footing but the females seemed to not even notice they were running on fallen bodies rather than a nice smooth road. Inexorably the herd pushed forward against our fire and were now no more than 50 yards from the wall.
The firing kept up and we were burning through thousands of rounds a minute. I ran to Gunny James’ position and checked on his ammo supply. He was an old hand and was doing a good job of maximizing what he had. Running the other way I was also pleased to find his grandson was just as frugal. If I survived this I was going to find a Marine and apologize for having snuck onto Camp Pendleton where I painted the battle cannon on display at their welcome center a shade of hot pink. Maybe.
To the west I could see Jim Roberts and his crew setting the first upper row of containers. The shooters on the container already in place had to move out of the way while the new container was stacked in place, then a ladder on the end got them on top of the new container and they were now 20 feet off the ground. Looking at the front edge of the herd pushing in I knew we’d get overrun before the second level of the wall was in place. Turning I went to the nearest ladder, waiting for one of the football players with an armload of full magazines to finish climbing up then raced to the ground and straight back to where the police officer had dropped off the mortar for me. Rachel was at my side and Dog ran with us, taking up a guarding stance when we stopped at the waiting crates.
Using my Ka-Bar I pried off all the lids then quickly started setting up the mortar. The 60 MM mortar is really simple. There’s a round base plate that lays on the ground onto which you set the closed end of the mortar tube. The mortar tube is just that, a tube with a closed end and a fixed firing pin at the bottom. It’s only about four feet long or so and about a foot from the muzzle an adjustable bipod is attached. The bipod has an azimuth adjustment built into it for setting the elevation of the mortar. When you get it where you want you simply pick up a mortar bomb, align it at the mouth of the tube, let it go and be sure you move behind the plane of the muzzle. The bomb drops down the tube where its explosive propellant strikes the firing pin, ignites and it is propelled out of the tube like a bullet out of a rifle. The biggest difference here being that the tube is not rifled as the mortar bombs are stabilized with fins. The idea is they are shot in a high arc and fall down onto your target. 60 MM mortars are one of the smaller sizes the US uses, but they still pack quite a nice punch when all you’re using them against is flesh and bone.
Mortar set up I adjusted the azimuth to 75 degrees, made sure Rachel and Dog were behind the tube, then dropped the first bomb and spun away to avoid the muzzle blast. There was a deep thumping sound and I turned to look down range. A few moments later there was a bright flash and loud explosion from beyond the wall. Grabbing the radio I called the NCO responsible for the section where I’d been standing and asked where the bomb had struck.
“Your distance is good, hitting about a hundred yards down range, but you need to adjust left. That one hit in the trees.” I turned the mortar a few degrees to the left then sent another round on its way. A moment later the NCO called and told me I still needed a few more degrees to the left. Making the adjustment I let another round fly and waited for the report.
“Spot on Major. Right on the yellow line if we could see it. Fire for effect!”
I started sending a round every ten seconds, wanting there to be enough delay for the hole I was blowing in the herd to fill back in with more infected. After six rounds I adjusted right a couple of degrees and sent another six rounds with the same timing, then moved to the left and sent another six. Telling Rachel to stay with the mortar and make sure it wasn’t messed with I ran for the wall to see what effect I was having. Climbing a ladder I noted that the firing by the shooters hadn’t slowed and was dismayed when I reached the top of the wall. I looked at a solid sea of infected and they were now within 30 yards of the wall. What the fuck? The NCO for that area saw me and ran over, looking almost comical as he ran flat footed to keep from slipping on the rain slicked metal.
“Each shell kills dozens and blows a huge hole in their ranks, but they flow into it in seconds and just keep on coming.”
“Damn it. OK, I’m going to send up a couple of the reaction units and step up the rate of fire. We’ve got to hold them until this wall gets raised.” I turned and flew back down the ladder, not waiting for a response. Running for the mortar I keyed the radio and told Bravo and Charlie units to deploy to section 12 which was the center section. The two NCOs acknowledged as I reached the mortar.
“Feed these to me as fast as I can fire them,” I said to Rachel. “And for God’s sake, don’t drop one.” She went a little white, but nodded and pulled a bomb out of its case to have it ready to hand to me.
I started firing as fast as I could feed the bombs into the tube. Every tenth round I adjusted a little to the right, then back to center, then left. I was keeping up a good rate of fire, explosions from the far side of the wall coming every two to three seconds. When I was about half way through my supply of rounds I paused to check on the wall building. The stacked sections were getting closer, but were still a long way off. The rate of fire from the wall had not lessened one bit and I was starting to worry we were going to run out of ammo before we even got the wall raised to 20 feet. Pushing the worry aside I started feeding the mortar again, the explosions resuming with the same frequency. I was in a rhythm; hang, drop and turn, grab new round and repeat and was caught by surprise when I held my hands out and Rachel didn’t have a bomb ready for me.
“That’s all there is,” she said, straightening up and stretching her back. I looked at the empty crates, still surprised, then shook it off and headed for the wall. Rachel and Dog ran with me, Dog rushing ahead through the pouring rain and not about to be left out again he bounded up the ladder ahead of us. Great. Who was going to carry his big, furry ass back down?
Chapter 33
Back on the wall I stared dumbfounded at the sea of infected. They had reached the base of the wall and were pushing in, the bodies pressed so tightly together they appeared to be a solid mass. Mounds of bodies from my mortar assault were piled high on the highway, but the infected just flowed over and around them as they moved forward. As the herd had made contact with the wall it had started spreading out to the sides. The heaviest concentration had been following the highway and while some had been in the woods to either side most had stuck to the easier path the asphalt afforded. Now, as they spread, the woods for a hundred yards to either side of the highway was packed with bodies and they were still spreading. They were also starting to pile on top of each other at the base of the wall and it wouldn’t take much piling up for hands to be able to reach the ten foot high edge of the containers.
As I was thinking this there were shouts of alarm from several places along the wall as shooters suddenly saw hands reach up and grab the metal rod that ran along the top edge of each container. Most of them were able to quickly dispatch the infected with shots to the head, but a couple were caught unprepared when females made big leaps, reaching over the edge to grab a hapless shooter and drag him into the churning mass in front of the wall. Moving right up to the front edge I looked over and then scanned up and down the length of the wall. The second level was still too far away and we were only minutes away from the infected breaching our defenses and pouring over the wall and into the town. A female leapt up from below, screaming like a banshee as she tried to grab my leg. Stepping to the side I kicked her in the face while she was still in the air and her body did a back flip b
efore landing in the herd below.
“Grenades, grenades, grenades!” I shouted into the radio. All up and down the line I saw and heard the NCOs passing the order and the sounds of rifle fire sputtered out as each shooter started pulling pins and tossing grenades over the front lip of their container. The explosions ripped up and down the wall, competing with the thunder but not winning. As planned, each shooter tossed two grenades then went back to their rifle. The effects were devastating on the infected bodies that were pressed against the metal containers, but unfortunately when they fell the ranks of infected behind them just used their bodies to gain more height as they clawed and scrambled to reach the people on top.
The only advantage for us was the herd was pressing in so tight the females couldn’t get a run to leap at the wall and were hampered in even being able to jump straight up. This didn’t stop them from trying and right next to me one succeeded in leaping high enough to grab a shooter’s arms and start dragging her over the lip. This was the young girl that had been the first to speak up earlier when I’d asked for volunteers. She screamed when the female latched onto her arms and started tugging and I dove across her body to anchor her to the top of the container. Fumbling for my pistol which was trapped between our bodies I felt her slip a few inches on the wet metal, then Dog bounded over me and bit down on one of the infected’s forearms. I don’t know how strong a German Shepherd’s bite is, but I know it’s strong enough to break the two bones in the forearm and destroy the surrounding muscle. The female’s hand slipped off the shooter’s arm and Dog moved out of the way as my pistol finally came free and I shot the infected in the head. The girl scrambled back from the edge, adrenaline fueled panic giving her enough strength to move me with her.
Rolling off her and standing up I raised the radio again and called for the firemen. This defense had been Gunny James idea, and when he’d proposed it I had liked it immediately. All up and down the wall firemen carrying red plastic five gallon jugs of gasoline mixed with liquid soap charged up ladders and stepped to the front edge of the wall where they started pouring poor mans’ napalm onto the infected. Each fireman walked the length of a couple of containers as he poured, soaking the raging bodies below. One by one as their containers ran out they tossed them back to the town side of the defenses where a crew gathered them and started refilling with gas then more soap. Waving the shooters back from the edge the firemen pulled out road flares and sparked them with the igniter in the plastic cap before tossing them down onto the napalm soaked infected. All along the wall fires ignited with a whoosh, the mixture sticking and burning even in the pouring rain.
Napalm is one of the nastiest and probably most frightening weapons that man has ever devised. It’s really quite simple, just gasoline and any type of gel that will mix with the gas and cause it to stick to anything it touches while not affecting the flammability of the fuel. Military grade napalm is a bit more complicated than that, but for our purposes four and half gallons of gas mixed with half a gallon of thick, liquid soap worked perfectly. Thousands of infected instantly became walking torches, the mix sticking to their clothing and skin and burning so hot that the infected’s flesh started separating from the bone. The bonus was that as they burned, any other infected they came in contact with had some of the gas rub off and start burning them. Flames and heavy black smoke shot above the front edge of the wall and all of the defenders had to move to the back edge. I was glad it was raining and all my people were soaked. The water helped protect them from the heat of the fire.
Gunny James’ suggestion had given me another idea and as the front ranks of the infected burned I called for the next wave over the radio. Moments later to either side of me I heard the two smaller fire trucks crank up their diesel engines. As I watched they rolled forward, each with a ladder extending over the wall, 30 feet in the air. Next to each truck sat a trailer with a big plastic tank on it we had appropriated from a landscaping service. Each tank normally held 200 gallons of weed killer the landscapers would use along the sides of roads, but that had been dumped and the tanks pumped full of gas from a truck stop’s underground tank. Now each pumper truck’s hose ran to these tanks rather than a fire hydrant and the high pressure nozzles at the tops of the ladders started spraying gasoline across the herd of infected in front of the wall. Both quickly ran through their supply of gas, the men manning the nozzles on the ladders sparking flares and throwing them in long arcs out into the herd. First one new fire erupted with a loud whoomp, then the second flare hit and ignited the fuel. The fire spread throughout the ranks of the infected and soon there was a sea of flames extending from the wall out to nearly 100 yards. The smell was horrendous.
Despite being on fire and their flesh literally cooking and falling off their skeletons, the infected continued to push forward. They truly felt no pain nor did they care about mortal wounds. Despite the number of infected I had fought I felt a thrill of fear and not a little disappointment that not even the instinctual fear of fire still existed in these creatures. There truly was no way to stop them other than killing them. I looked up and down the wall and could tell all the men and women manning the defenses were thinking similar thoughts. Looks of panic and terror were on almost all the faces and that’s when I knew we were about to lose the battle and the town.
Chapter 34
“We’ve got to get these people’s heads back into the fight.” I had grabbed Rachel and pulled her close enough for her to hear me. “If we don’t they’re going to start breaking and running and this wall will fall before the train is loaded and out of here.” Rachel didn’t look to be in a much better frame of mind than the defenders, but she nodded and turned to look at me.
“What do you want me to do?” She asked.
“Go east along the wall. Encourage. Use their fear and emotions to get them mad. Right now they’re afraid. Get them pissed off, or at least get them fighting!” Rachel nodded and headed east as I started walking west, Dog at my side.
“We’re holding them! Don’t let up now! We have to buy time for the evacuees! There’s no one but us to do this. Don’t let these fuckers win! We fight together and we can stop them long enough for our people to escape!” I was yelling as I moved down the line, looking up to see that the second stack of containers was finally getting close.
The ex-military heard my words and with looks of resolve started picking up their rifles. The NCOs were also working to rally the shooters and soon sporadic firing started up, but there were still a lot of civilians on the wall and they didn’t look so sure. One burly man dressed like a truck driver stood with a dozen other similarly dressed men and they all stared at the flaming herd. He turned as I approached, fear on his face which quickly turned to anger when he saw me. He stepped forward to meet me, the men pressing in at his back.
“It’s time to cut our losses and get the hell out of here!” He challenged, looking over his shoulders for support from the other men.
The first thought that flashed through my mind was to shoot him in the head and get on with fighting the infected, but just as quickly as I thought it I dismissed it. He wasn’t the enemy, he was just scared. He hadn’t trained for this, had never dreamt of this in his worst nightmares. Until now the most violence he’d probably every experienced was a bar fight or two. I kept walking forward and stopped a couple of feet in front of him, resisting the urge to put my face in his.
“And go where?” I asked him in a calmer voice than I felt like using. I have little patience or sympathy for people who break and run when things get tough and was summoning all of my self-control. “You think that herd out there is just going to go away and not keep coming if you run? What about the women and children in the town? What happens to them if we don’t hold this wall?” Everyone on the wall knew we were just there to buy time, and they also knew loading thousands of people onto a train would take every second of the time we were fighting for.
The man was really scared and was turning that fear into anger towards me
. He started to step forward, hands balled into fists at his side. I really didn’t want to fight him, and I was tired of wasting time with him. I was half a second away from pulling my pistol and shooting him when one of the men behind him reached forward and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. He met my eyes and I saw understanding, not anger.
“Rick, it’s time to get it together. We’ve got to help. My wife, daughter and granddaughter are trying to get on that train. The man’s right. We’ve got to hold this wall for a while.” Rick’s shoulders slumped as soon as he knew he didn’t have any support from the other men. After a long moment he lowered his eyes and turned back to look at the herd. Nodding my thanks to the man who had interjected I kept moving down the wall.
I didn’t have to go far before reaching the vertical end of a container that was the easternmost edge of the second stack. A ladder was leaned up against it and I climbed up to the next level. 20 feet really isn’t that much higher than 10 feet when you’re trying to stop tens of thousands of raging infected, but I got an immediate psychological boost from the gain in elevation. Looking at the defenders I could tell they felt the same way. They were already setting back up on the sand bags and sending shots into the infected. Looking towards town I saw four more containers coming my way and I went back down the ladder and headed back to the center of the wall. Damn, but maybe we could hold out long enough.
As Dog and I moved back east I looked out over the wall to the south. Thousands upon thousands of infected had died in the fires, blackened bodies littering the area. But as unstoppable as the sea the infected from farther back in the herd were pushing forward, their crushing feet and the steady downpour turning the dead into a thick, soupy black pulp. The defenders were slowly rallying, the rate of fire picking back up as the next wave of infected approached. Females raced out in front, but the carpet of bodies was so thick and uneven that they had to slow to maintain their balance. This made them easier targets and the shooters were cutting them down well short of the wall. But right behind them was a relentless tide of solidly massed bodies that rifle bullets alone could not stop.
