Irregular Scout Team One: The Complete Zombie Killer series

by John Holmes

  “A bit.”

  “Do you think you could handle one? Move it from place to place?”

  Where was he going with this? “Probably. Fighting zombies isn’t hard if you’re smart about it.”

  “So I understand. You wouldn’t think so, with the number of people who died in the recent collapse.” He had a huge grin on his face. This guy actually seemed to be getting off on thinking about all the death.

  “Well, we didn’t go all the way under.”

  “More’s the pity. But back to business. Handling zombies.”

  “Sure, we could handle a Z. But there isn’t one within five hundred miles of here. The quarantine is pretty damn solid.”

  He waved his hand in the air. “Never mind that. I have some friends who are infuriated that the Great Satan is still standing, even as their own country is a radioactive dust bowl. Jihad, they call it. They have managed to acquire some undead for me.”

  Great. The Middle East had been hammered in a short, sharp exchange of nuclear weapons between Iran and Israel. After the plague broke out, and things broke down, terrorists had detonated a bomb in Tel Aviv, and then a couple of missiles had hit Israel’s other cities, fired from Iran. The Israeli military had hammered Tehran and the other Arab capitals flat, and then the Chinese had launched their disabling cyberattack against our nuclear forces. They had nuked Mecca, Jerusalem, Riyadh, Baghdad, Cairo, just to get them out of the way.

  “So, where do we fit into this plan?” I could kill him right here and now, in fact, I wanted to, but then we would lose the lead to his contacts. “What, exactly, IS your plan?”

  “How many people in this camp?”

  I thought quickly. “Maybe five thousand.”

  “And what do you think would happen if five thousand undead suddenly scattered across the inside of the quarantine zone?”

  My blood went cold, and I heard a sharp intake of breath from behind me where Doc stood.

  “Well, at a minimum, the Federal Government would fall. All their forces are oriented outwards.”

  A look of glee came across his face. “EXACTLY! Riot and mayhem, death and destruction, and the cycle turns again!”

  This guy was absolutely crazy. Completely over the line. I also knew something that he didn’t. Orbiting in a racetrack pattern, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, a B-52 from Fairchild Air Force Base circled the sky over the Federal Zone, armed with nuclear weapons. At the first hint of an outbreak, they would drop one, or two, or three, or however many the authorities thought they would need to contain an outbreak. Regardless of who was in them at the time. Nuke it from orbit, it was the only way to be sure.

  “So what do you need us to do, and what’s in it for us?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Gold. As much as we can carry.”

  He reached under the cot and dragged a heavy chest out, then flipped the lid open. In the light of the Coleman gas lantern, a pile of gold jewelry gleamed, looking like Smaug’s horde in The Hobbit.

  “Looks good. So what do you need us to do?”

  “We need security, and help moving the undead from the drop off point into the camp.”

  I thought about it for a minute. “How many, and where?”

  “Three, and you don’t know need to know where. Just be at the south east corner of the camp tomorrow at breakfast.”

  “Early morning? That takes some balls, in broad daylight.”

  He nodded to the Viking. “Taylor, do you have that diversion planned?”

  “All set, boss” he said, never stopping his staring game with Ziv.

  I probed him for more information. “Are you just going to let them into the camp? Let them run loose?”

  “That is the general idea. In the confusion, I’m sure you and your people will be able to get out, easy enough. We just need you to keep any military patrols away from the transfer point, if they come around, and then get the Z’s into the most crowded area.”

  I pretended to think about it, then leaned forward and offered my hand. “Tomorrow at noon, then.” He took my hand in his, and his grip felt like ice in my hand. I let go as quick as I could and stood.

  We filed out of the tent, Ziv backing out with his eye on Taylor. As he left, he drew his finger across his throat. Taylor raised his sword to his face, then lowered it.

  “Ziv, do you have to piss off the big guy in the armor?”

  I could almost see his grin in the darkness. “Because some people are just asking to die. You can see it in their eyes.”

  “You, or him?” asked Doc.

  “That remains to be seen.”

  Chapter 77

  We made our way back to our tent, avoiding the open area. As we passed the remains of the burnt out tent I saw a half dozen figures coming up the street in the opposite direction. They stopped in front of our tent.

  “Heads up, company.”

  I pulled the Motorola radio out keyed it. “Brit, company outside. You tracking?”

  “Roger. Ahmed and Espo are out and about. We’re going outside to meet”

  She was cut off in midsentence. Simultaneously, in front of us, bright flashes shattered the night, and the flat CRACK CRACK of pistols firing. We all hit the dirt, right where we stood and drew our guns, but held fire. The attackers were in between us and our tent, and in the dark we couldn’t be sure of our targets.

  Beside us, in the ruined tent, a stab of flame ruined my night vision, and a loud BANG ruined my hearing. One of the attackers dropped, and I heard over the ringing in my ear the sound of Ahmed racking the bolt of the Mosin rifle he had hidden just outside the fence the night before. He fired again, dropping another one. At the same time, off to one side of our tent, from under the wooden floor boards, a low ripping sound and more muzzle flashes. Red emptied a full thirty round magazine from a MAC-10 machine pistol into them. From the other side, Brit fired the sawed off shotgun we had taken earlier in the day. The last of the attackers fell to the ground.

  “CEASE FIRE!” I yelled and stood up. Beside me, so did Doc and Ziv; Espo and Ahmed crawled out from the ruined tent. We advanced cautiously, and Brit and Red came out of the tent, shining flashlights on the bodies. They were more of the crew that we had taken this tent from earlier in the day. One was crawling away, and Brit shot him in the back of the head. Doc checked the pulses of each of the others, and when he found one still breathing, he quickly cut his throat.

  I sat down on a crate, after holstering my pistol. My hands started to shake, and I jammed them hard into my pockets. It took a minute for them to stop, and for my heart to stop pounding. When they stopped shaking, I stood back up. There was the smell of cordite and dead meat in the air.

  “OK, let’s get out of here. We don’t want to be anywhere near this in the morning when the patrols come by. Grab your stuff, time to roll.”

  We were ready to move in a few minutes; the radio was the only thing that needed to be broken down. Red stowed it in his pack, and Ahmed hid the rifle under the burned out tent, pulling the bolt and putting it in his pocket. We moved out through the night, hunting a new place to grab a few hours of sleep before tomorrow.

  The further we got from the shootout, the more faces we saw peeking out from tent flaps. As we passed, they slid back inside. No one wanted to get involved when the wolves were chewing on each other.

  We found an empty tent and instituted a sleep plan. It was past midnight, and I was exhausted. I tossed and turned, and tried closing my eyes, but every time I did, I saw the exchange of pistol shots like afterimages from camera flashes. I finally got up, unable to sleep and not wanting to take any of the drugs the VA had given me. Picking up my crutch, I hopped out and sat down on the wooden steps in the front. Espo was sitting there, smoking a cigarette. I knew Red was somewhere hidden in line of sight.

  “Put that out.” A cigarette was well and good, but it ruined your night vision and gave an aiming point for a sniper. Shouldn’t be a problem in the camp, but a bad habit to take ba
ck outside the wire.

  Esposito grounded it out on his boot, then put the stump back in his pocket. Tobacco was expensive, now that the fields in Virginia were just a mass of weeds and scrub brush.

  “Sorry, Chief. Having a hard time sleeping again?”

  “Yeah. Bad shit keeps coming back. Had the shakes again today.”

  “Maybe you need a vacation.” We both laughed. A vacation, ha, right. “No, seriously, Nick. Look at all the shit you’ve been through in the last year. Lost your leg, couple friends been killed, house blowed up.”

  “Blown up” I automatically corrected.

  “Whatever, point is, you have been through a lot of shite. You gotta de-stress. Why don’t you go try to take a poke at Brit? You know she’s crazy about you.”

  “Old man like me? That will be the day.”

  “Just go talk to her, you dumbass. With all due respect, Sarge.”

  I sat and thought for a minute, then put my hand on Espos’ shoulder and used him to lever myself up. I stumped back inside, sat on my cot, opened my team book, and started writing notes on today’s events. I heard a sigh and looked up. Brit sat up, and fixed her eye patch over her ruined right eye.

  “Can’t sleep either, huh?” She nodded and came over to sit next to me.

  “Whatcha doin?”

  “Putting down an account of todays’ action. For posterities’ sake. Who knows, maybe I’ll write a book someday about all this.”

  “Am I in there?” She moved closer to me, trying to get a look at my notebook.

  “Ever since we met, way back in Syracuse. Two years now.”

  “You remember pulling me out of the water in West Point?”

  I thought back to that. She had kissed me after saving her life, but we had put a stop to that real quickly. Teams don’t work well when there is that kind of dynamic going on.

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  She moved even closer, putting her arm around my shoulders. “Remember what we talked about?”

  “Yep, remember that too. Still the same. Nothing between team members.”

  “I know that, but I want to ask you a favor.” She leaned her head on my shoulder.

  “Go ahead.” I had an idea of what was coming.

  “Promise me something.”

  “We owe each other our lives, couple times over. You can ask me anything.”

  “Promise me that when we head back east, we go back to Stillwater, farm some land. Quit all this crazy stuff.”

  I thought hard about it. I HAD been thinking hard about it, ever since I lost my leg. Even before that, when Brit lost her eye. Maybe even before that, the first time Brit got shot.

  “I’ll be honest” I said, “my patriotism meter is running pretty low. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. That shit with Doctor Morano.”

  Brit squeezed my shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll deal with her. Someday soon. But, Nick. Listen. I’m not your typical woman. I’m not going to beat around the bush. I love you, you’re my best friend and”

  She was interrupted by a loud, raucous snore from Ziv’s cot. She picked up my prosthetic from beside the cot. reached over, and wacked him in the chest. He woke up with a snort.

  “What the hell was that for, you devil woman?”

  “Stop fucking snoring. I’m trying to seduce Nick.”

  He rolled over and pulled the blanket up over his head. “About goddamned time. Stupid idiot Americans.”

  She turned back to me. “Like I was saying. Let’s quit. Start a farm. Make babies. Make a new world.” She leaned over, kissed me long and gently on the lips, then sat back.

  “OK. After this, we’re done. Just … can I keep my soul, Miss one eyed, crazy redhead?”

  Chapter 78

  The sun rose on, hopefully, our last day in the camp. For once, bright sunshine silhouetted Mount Rainier in the distance. At first light, we had called Special Operations Command and filled them in on what was going on. While Doc called it in, I sat on the steps and shaved with cold water. Brit sat next to me, picking through a Pasta MRE meal.

  “Hey. About last night…”

  Between mouthfuls of pasta she said “Shut your piehole. No idea what you’re talking about.”

  OK, that’s how she wanted to play it. Women.

  Around us, the camp was coming to life. People were moving about, heading for the mess tents at the end of each street. A two truck patrol, same guys as yesterday, passed us. The gunner in the front truck, crouching behind an M-249 SAW spun the turret to track us as they passed. People looked away as the trucks passed, but we didn’t, and that marked us. A difference in the pattern. A good combat veteran, a survivor, identified a break in the pattern. Stayed alive.

  We did a quick weapons and ammo check, ran through the plan, then moved out through the muddy streets. We made our way through the tents to the area Flagg had told us about, drifting against the crowd in twos and threes. As we moved, I started kicking myself. I was walking with Doc next to me. Brit, Ziv and Espo were moving parallel to us the next row over. Ahmed and Red had left earlier.

  I was beating myself up for bringing the whole team in at the same time. We should have infiltrated in over a day or two, kept some of the team incognito. Ace in the hole. Now, we had no backup. Dumbass amateur mistake. Sure, the Rangers were on call, but fifteen minutes could be a lifetime in combat. Screw it, we would just have to take what came.

  On the southwest corner stood a gate, used for bringing in supplies. Kellogg, Brown and Root, also known as KBR, my old buddies from Iraq, ran the mess halls and cleaned the shitters out. They were bringing the pre-cooked meals in to the camp in 5 Ton trucks. The contractors would set the food out on long tables each meal time, twice a day, with MRE’s for lunch. The truckers themselves were hired from even more wretched refugee camps, out on the Alaskan islands, where boat people from fallen countries had been settled by Coast Guard patrols.

  I stood and watched for a minute or two, scoping out the area. Flagg stood by the gate, with his bodyguard next to him, the big guy named Taylor. He wore a long black coat, and I was sure that underneath he still wore his armor and had his sword. As I watched, Brit came up next to us.

  “Is that the Viking dude? What’s with the armor? And a freaking sword?”

  “There’s going to be a riot today. Ever been in one?”

  “No.”

  Doc whistled. “Well, aren’t you in for a treat. The reason old Tayler is wearing armor is to keep from being trampled in the dust, or getting a knife stuck in him. The sword is for killing people in close quarters.”

  “How do you know there’s going to be a riot?”

  “Just watch.”

  Flagg strolled over to us, and Taylor moved off into the camp.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. Miss O’Neil. I’m a big fan of yours.” He nodded to us and then leered at Brit.

  She stuck her finger in her mouth and made a gagging motion “Creeper. Ugh.”

  A look of anger flashed across Flagg’s face, and for a moment, I saw something dark and evil blazing out of his eyes.

  I stepped in front of her. “OK, Flagg. We’re here. What do you need us to do?”

  The look faded from his face, and he calmed down. “In a few minutes, there will be a distraction. I need your team” and here he glanced around. “Where is the rest of your crew?”

  “Here and there.”

  “I see. Well, I need your team to make sure one of these trucks gets to the middle of the camp. After that, you are free to go. The gold is in my tent.”

  “OK. Sounds like a plan. How will we know which truck?”

  “You’ll know. Ohh, this is going to be GREAT! Goodbye, America! As for you, Ms., O’Neil, just be glad I’m busy right now. I doubt you would be immune to my charms.” He walked away, around the corner of a tent.

  Doc spoke up. “Can I kill him? Pretty please? Twist his head off?”

  “You can’t kill him.” The gravelly voice behind us surprised us all. I turned to see a
man in a long, black duster rolling a cigarette. The hand that he used to roll the cigarette, his right, was missing the two smaller fingers, but he still managed the paper easily. As he put his tobacco back in his pocket, I could see the butt of a big, ivory handled revolver in his waistband.

  “And why not?”

  “Because, gunslinger. I’m not sure he can be killed. I have been chasing him for a very, very long time. Each time I get close, he slips away. Maybe this time.”

  I watched his face intently. It was lined, scared, but his blue eyes were steady. I nodded to him.

  “Are you a cop?”

  “In a fashion. I guess you could say that I work for the Law. I can see that you do too. Don’t worry, I won’t blow your cover.”

  “We’re here to shut this down. Arrest Flagg, or kill him. We could team up.”

  A pained look went across his face. “No, you don’t want to do that. Everyone who helps me, dies in the end. No, you do what you came to do. Stop whatever he’s planning. I’ll take care of him, gunslinger.”

  With that, he turned and walked away in the direction that Flagg had gone.

  “Should we follow him? This place is getting more and more full of weirdo’s” asked Doc.

  “No. Like he said, we have our own work to do. One of those trucks will be carrying Zombies on it. Maybe more than one, if Flagg is smart.”

  At that moment, all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 79

  A burning object flew in a high arc and shattered on the cab of the second truck through the gate. Flames splashed over the truck, and the canvas over the bed quickly caught fire. The crowd around the closest mess tent turning into a milling, shoving mass, trying to get away from the burning truck, which had rolled towards them as the driver jumped out of the cab.

  The first truck pulled over to the side, and started to head towards us, then turned into an alley between the tents and stopped, mostly out of site. I saw Red and Ahmed across the open space, and pointed two fingers at my eyes, then at the truck. Ahmed nodded and grabbed Red’s arm, and they moved out.