by John Holmes
“You know, hollow points are illegal under the Geneva Convention, right?” laughed Doc as I tried wipe off the gore from my uniform. “Good thing none of that got in your mouth, or Ahmed’s next one would have been through YOUR head.” We were gathered in the kitchen, and had a propane lantern running, after putting heavy sheets over the windows.
I picked a piece of bone out of the sleeve of my Gortex jacket and threw it on the floor. “Shut up. THAT is why I don’t like basements. Do me a favor, set up the Guard roster. I’m going to see if there is any water pressure, try and maybe clean some of this up, and get some sleep. Put me on for the three to four watch. Stand too is at 04:30.” He left me there as I started on cleaning my shotgun.
Chapter 12
I woke up at a noise. I could hear snoring coming from Doc, who lay in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the bed from me, his feet up by my head. Despite the cold, I only had my bag draped over me, as did Doc. Out in the wild, there might not be any time to unzip yourself from the bag. I quietly slipped it off me, listened intently. There was a scuffling noise out in the hall, where, by my watch, 02:21, Colleton should be on guard. I also heard snoring coming from the hallway. The son of a bitch was asleep.
I reached out and shook Doc’s foot. He rolled out of bed, pistol at the ready, instantly awake. There was a chemlight burning in the hallway, and I could see Colleton’s feet through the doorway. He was apparently sitting in a chair, snoring away. Doc looked at me, and I pointed to my ear, then pointed down. Noises, downstairs. He nodded, and I went to the doorway, staying low. To my right, Colleton kept snoring. I could hear faint music coming from is direction. Holy crap, the kid had earphones in! On my left, a bulky figure was slowly trying to make its way up the stairs, treading on the outside of the steps to keep them from squeaking.
As I raised my pistol to take a shot, the door to the next bedroom at the top of the stairs opened, and Hernandez stepped out, unarmed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was directly in my line of fire, and stopped when he saw the figure in the shadows at the top of the stairs. I heard the twang of a crossbow, and Hernandez was driven backwards, up against the wall. As he started to slide down, I fired twice into the attackers’ center of mass, the suppressor only letting out a popping sound. He grunted and fell backwards down the stairs, knocking down another person coming up the stairs behind him.
Colleton woke with a start, and jumped up. “Holy Shit!” he yelled, and fired off a long ragged burst from his own unsuppressed M-4 at the figures tumbling down the stairs. The gunfire was incredibly loud in the enclosed space, and my ears rang. Doc punched him as hard as he could, knocking him down. As he fell, I grabbed his rifle and yanked it from him. Now we were truly screwed. Every single zombie in a mile was going to come running.
Downstairs a chorus of yells erupted, and Jones and Ahmed appeared in the doorways of the other bedrooms, guns at the ready, Brit looking out from behind Ahmed. I heard the front door slam, and assumed the raiders had made their departure after finding us too hard to chew on.
“Doc, check Hernandez. Jones, tape that fuckhead Colleton up. Ahmed, follow me downstairs. Brit, see if you can get up on the roof and see anything.”
As I passed Hernandez, he gave a cough that splattered blood. Doc was right behind me, and I had to ignore Hernandez until we knew the downstairs was clear. Ahmed followed me down the stairs, both of us with the tactical lights on our pistols shining. As we passed the crumpled figure at the bottom of the stairs, I fired once into his head and once into his chest, just in case. We cleared the downstairs, finding nothing except the front door slightly ajar and snow tracked into the front hallway. As Ahmed went to shut it, an arrow slammed into the door, along with a shout that echoed clearly in the crystal clear night air. “Fucccckkkkk youuuuu, you government assholes!”
“Ahmed, stay here and keep an eye on things. I’m going to check on Hernandez.” As I went back up, I stopped and examined the corpse on the floor. He was dressed in a heavy, soiled army surplus parka and dirty jeans. He had a cheap 9mm pistol strapped to his leg, and a few extra magazines in his pockets, along with some extra loose rounds. A heavy hunting crossbow lay on the floor next to him, and he still grasped an extra arrow in his dead hand. Under his shirt was a police issue Kevlar vest. One of my shots had caught him in the throat, another in the side of his head, and his brains had slid out of the exit wound. Makeshift plastic armor covered his arms and legs, protection against zombie bites. I felt no sympathy for him or the rest of his crew. They could have come to us openly, and they would have been on an evac bird in the morning.
Upstairs, Doc stood over Hernandez, blood up to his elbows. As I got to there, Brit knelt and put a shirt over the kids’ sightless eyes. Jones stood over Colleton, who had duct tape securing his ankles and wrists, and a piece of tape over his mouth.
“We gotta move. That gunfire is going to bring every Z in town down on us, and there a bunch of Reavers camped outside the front door. Pack up everything and be ready to go in five minutes.”
Brit stood up. “What about Hernandez body?”
“Leave him, nothing we can do about it. Take his dog tag, and mark his position in the GPS. Mortuary Affairs can recover his remains when we take back this shitty town.” Doc nodded and broke the chain holding the ID tags, putting one in his pocket and placing the other in Hernandez’s mouth, then closing it gently.
Jonesy nodded down at Colleton. “What about this piece of crap?”
I looked down at him. “You know the penalty for sleeping on guard.” Colleton’s eyes grew wide, and he started shaking his head violently back and forth, trying to speak behind the tape.
Chapter 13
Jonesy recited the relevant section of the new Universal Code of Military Justice. “Failure to maintain vigilance while on patrol or guard, resulting in the death or serious injury to any fellow service member, is to be punished by death.”
It was a harsh rule, but we had been taught some hard lessons fighting the undead. They never slept. Ever. Letting your guard down could destroy a team, a company, even a whole battalion. One single zombie getting into a perimeter had the potential to infect everyone around.
Brit spoke up. “I’ll do it” she said and pulled out her knife. I held up my hand.
“No, this is my job. I’m the team leader. You guys go pack up. Jonesy, bring him into the bedroom.”
Jonesy stood him up, and half carried, half dragged Colleton into the room, sitting him down in a chair. Then he turned and looked at me.
“I can do this, Nick. You don’t need this on your conscience.”
“No, you can’t, Jonesy. You’re a civilian. Send Doc in here to witness. Go on, get packed, we have to move.” He nodded and walked past me. Doc came in right after him, and switched on. I turned and faced the camera and started talking.
“Sergeant First Class Nicholas Agostine, Sergeant First Class Robert Hamilton, Private Jason Colleton, all assigned to Irregular Scout Team One, Joint Special Operations Command (Z), , detailed to support Task Force Liberty.” I paused before continuing.
“Fact, on the night of January 15th, 20--, Private Colleton was found to be asleep at his guard post, resulting in the death of Private First Class Joseph Hernandez and the compromising of the teams’ position.”
Doc turned the camera to himself. “I do hereby confirm this fact, having also witnesses Private Colleton’s dereliction of duty.” He then turned the camera back to me.
“Under revised UCMJ Article 113, Misbehavior of a Sentinel or Lookout, and Article 92, Dereliction of Duty, as Commander of IST One, as witnessed by my Second in Command, SFC Hamilton. I find Private Colleton guilty and sentence him to death or banishment. Due to the tactical situation, sentence to be carried out immediately.”
I reached down and pulled the tape off Colleton’s mouth. He immediately started cursing me. I put it back on.
“Listen, and listen quick, I don’t have time. I’m going to give you a chance to tell me your
last words, and pray if you want. Hernandez, who was a better man than you, is dead because of you, and for all I know, the rest of us will be dead soon too. You have a choice. I can leave you here to take your chances with the undead, or I can end it for you quick. Either way, you’re not coming with us. Do you understand? Make your choice, right now.” I pulled the tape off again.
“I’m sorry, I was tired. I didn’t mean it.” He was crying now.
“That doesn’t matter. Jesus Christ, face this like a man. Make up your mind.” Outside, I heard a zombie howl.
“Please, take me with you. I’m begging you, Sarge.”
“No. Make up your mind.” He stopped sniffling and crying, and then he spit in my face.
“OK. I’m leaving you for the Z’s.”
I started to get up, and he said “Wait, wait, OK. OK, just let me stand up.”
I helped him to his feet, and he stood straight. “Do it, you asshole. I should have stuck it to that redheaded whore when I had the chance. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You pissed off that I grabbed your woman’s ass?”
“No. You wouldn’t understand. I’ll lie to your parents and tell them you died well” I said, lifted my gun and fired, once in the head. He fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, all the life gone out of him in an instant. I couldn’t have shot him in the heart, he was wearing body armor. For a second, I stared down at him. Then I turned and grabbed my ruck, stuffing my sleeping bag in and making sure the shotgun was secured across the top and picked up my rifle. Doc secured his gear also, but then stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Nick, you did the right thing” he said, looking down at Colleton’s body in the dim light. “If he did it once, he’d do it again, and next time, it wouldn’t be one person dead, though that’s enough. It’s a different world, brother.”
I looked at him for a long second, and I could still smell the acrid smoke from my pistol and the bitter coppery tang of fresh blood, the smell of crap from his bowels letting go.
“This different world sucks, Doc, it really does.” I hadn’t wanted to do what I just did, and maybe there could have been some other way, but right now, four other people depended on me making the decisions, right or wrong, and that’s just the way it was. I knew I would be dreaming about this for a long time. Maybe he would even become one of the ghosts that tormented me. I hoped not.
“True story, brother. Now, we gotta go.” I nodded and went out into the hallway and down the stairs to relieve Ahmed. The rest of the team joined me in less than a minute.
“Brit, did you see anything outside?” She had gone up to the attic, and looked out using the Infrared scope on Hernandez’ rifle.
“Yeah, there three jokers camped out across the street, hiding behind some wrecked cars. I saw a zombie sniffing around down the street. Out back is clear, so far as I can tell.”
“OK, out the front we go then.”
Brit’s eyebrows shot up. “Out the front?”
“Yeah. These guys have been surviving the zombie apocalypse for more than six months on their own. Guaranteed that there is an ambush waiting for us out back. Ahmed, you know what to do.”
He didn’t even answer me, just moved over into the living room and took up a firing position. I readied a flash bang, pulling the pin and holding it in my hand. Doc held onto the doorknob, and counted down from three. At two, I let the spoon pop out of the flash bang. On one, he pulled the door open and I threw the grenade as hard as I could at the cars across the street. Doc slammed the door shut just as an arrow whispered through the doorway. Jonesy, standing behind Doc, said “Ow” under his breath. We all looked down and covered our eyes, and the CRACK of the stun grenade rattled the windows.
A second later, Ahmed’s rifle coughed, twice, then once again. I opened the door and rushed out into the cold night.
Outside, a half-moon illuminated the street. Two bodies lay on the far side of the pavement, and one man dragged himself slowly along the ground. Doc fired his pistol into him as we went past, more a mercy than ending a threat.
The reason for the mercy showed itself down the other end of the block. A half dozen sets of glowing red eyes showed themselves, then a few more appeared in the distance. They started shambling after us, then broke into a run. We ran for a bit, and then I slowed the team. I didn’t want to run into more zombies coming the other way.
“Um, guys, I think maybe we should run or something!” said Brit, jogging past me. At that moment, a dozen men came around the corner of the house we had just vacated, running at full speed. The two groups crashed into each other with yells and zombie howls. A melee erupted, blood flying darkly in the moonlight, gunfire flashing, shots echoing up and down the street. We stopped to watch.
“YES! I love it when a plan comes together!”
Jones limped over to me. “Yeah, well, how about we put some ground between us and this little party? I kinda took an arrow to my knee, yo.”
Chapter 14
The dawn broke with the thunder of rotor blades passing overhead. We had stopped outside of the town to treat Jonesy’s knee. The arrow had passed just under the skin, and Doc snapped it in half and drew the razor sharp barbed end out, then sewed it shut as we huddled in a barn, out of the cold wind.
“Hey, Nick, check it out!” Brit had lookout, and she peered out of the slightly open barn door, watching the sky. I was busy trying to raise someone back at the base over the satellite phone. There hadn’t been any retrans stations set up between us and the Seneca Army Depot yet.
“I’m kinda busy. Just tell me what you see.” I expected maybe a Kiowa on a recon flight, but the rotors sounded too heavy and there was too many of them.
“Well, there’s, lemme see if I can count that high. Four, five, six, no, seven of those big ass double bladed bus looking thingees. They have a whole bunch of crap slung underneath.”
“You mean Chinooks” I said, shutting the satellite phone off in frustration and getting up.
“Yeah, shithooks, or whatever you guys call them. Come see.”
I stood next to her and looked out the door. In the dawn light, high up so they caught the rays of a sun that hadn’t reached over the mountains yet, seven of the big transport helos thundered across the sky. Underneath was slung a variety of A-22 cargo bags and vehicles, including 155mm howitzers and earth moving equipment. As I watched, they sped overhead, following the river eastward, and settled about ten miles away on top of a bluff overlooking a bend in the river.
Just then the satellite phone rang. “Caputos’ Pizza, can I take your order?”
“Don’t be such a smart ass, Nick. I would kill for a pizza right now.” It was the Operations Sergeant Major from Task Force Liberty.
“Go back to Seattle, they still have some there, but it isn’t New York Pizza.”
“Enough with the bullshit, I’ve been up all night trying to get things laid on for the new firebase.”
“Yeah, the firebase you just so managed to not mention in our latest briefing?” I wasn’t ticked off; I just wanted to pick on him.
“Hey, we got a lot of shit going on here, and you’re little bunch of peepers ain’t way up on my priority list. Stand by; I got a new tasking for you.”
“Bend over, here is comes again. BTW, we’re down two. One KIA, and I had to shoot someone for falling asleep on duty.”
“Crap, the Colonel is not going to like that.” He sighed heavily.
“Screw him he doesn’t like me anyway. The kid fell asleep on guard duty, and got another team member kill and forced us to evac our hide site.”
“Well, we can let JAG deal with it when you get back. Meanwhile, saddle up and get walking. You new orders are to recon St. Johnsville and points east until recalled. You’ll be operating out of Firebase Tillery for resupply.”
“Is that the monstrosity you guys are building up on that hill? For once, can you just build something someplace where we don’t have to hump all the way up and down?”
He la
ughed. “Tough crap. You know what it’s like fighting Z’s. Climb a hill and build a wall, brother.”
He had a point. Putting a firebase in a lowland area invited you getting overrun. The Army had taken to actually putting temporary “killing posts” in the middle of a town or city, pre-made out of shipping containers, with a ton of ammo and a platoon of soldiers. They sat there and shot Z’s till they ran out of ammo or were about to get overrun, calling fire support all around, then got evaced out. It was great for clearing an area, but one in twenty got lost. No thanks. Firebases sat way up on a hill, with serious defenses, and were designed to provide communications, fire support, and whatever else was needed to sustain the clearing operations.
“Why are you calling it Firebase Tillery?”
“Buddy of mine, Kiowa pilot, went down in Iraq in ’09. Brave dude.”
“Understood. I forget sometimes about what happened before it all went to shit.”
“Yeah, well, we all do. Least this way Josh gets remembered.” We were both quiet for a few seconds, thinking about friends we had lost in Iraq and Afghanistan. Hell, before everything shut down, I think a couple thousand troops got left in the Stan. I hoped they made it home, or at least set themselves as bad ass warlords in what was left of Asia.
“OK, the S-3 wants you guys outside St. Johnsville by sun up two days from now, so I suggest you get walking. UAV Intel says there is a very heavy concentration of undead around the town for some reason, and the S-2 wants to know why.”
