Monster Hunter Memoirs: Grunge - eARC

by Larry Correia

  We were getting enough business from contacts that we had trouble filling some of our out-of-town contracts. But then we got a call from the Perry County Sheriff’s Office. They’d had a bad zombie outbreak in Rendon. Which was their county seat. And the call was from the only surviving deputy. The sheriff was, presumably, a zombie.

  To describe Rendon as “the middle of nowhere” is an understatement. The nearest town was Omak. Have you ever heard of Omak, Washington? Didn’t think so. But that’s where we flew to in a chartered Beaver with all our gear to go zombie hunting.

  The area was sparse and dry, not like the Cascades. It was just about on the border with Canada. Middle of freaking nowhere.

  We rented a U-Haul for most of our gear, there fortunately was a U-Haul outlet in Omak, and had to buy a couple of used pick-up trucks to carry the team. Then we headed to Rendon.

  The State Patrol had established a roadblock in the pass over Rendon. Doctor Lucius made contact with the surviving deputy there and got a more complete description of the situation. It wasn’t just zombies. We’d gotten that. There were apparently some wights since some people had been paralyzed by “something big and gray and fast.” They’d apparently attacked the local emergency station first, showing a degree of coordination that spoke volumes, then spread out and hit the whole town, concentrating the wights on leadership. The phone lines had also been cut.

  “I got a radio call from the sheriff at his place,” the deputy was saying. It was the tone of someone who’d repeated his story multiple times. “He told me to just get to Omak and call you guys. Gave me your number. I could hear the shots over the phone. And it cut off. And I did what he told me.”

  “Which was the right call,” Doctor Lucius said. “You did the right thing, son.”

  “He said it was zombies, and to call you. He was reading me the number when he started shooting. Said ‘Call MHI!’ gave me your number. That was it. I called you then I called state police. They didn’t believe me. I’m not sure if I believe me. But that’s what the sheriff said. Do you think he made it, sir?”

  “Sheriff Jackson’s a tough old guy,” Lucius said. “If anyone made it, he did.”

  “And you guys…” the deputy paused as I pulled the flamethrower out of the truck. We’d brought the kitchen sink. “You…handle this stuff?”

  “All the time,” Lucius said. “It’s what we do.”

  MCB was already there. Some agents I didn’t know. One of them walked up and I expected the usual harangue.

  “We’ve established an overwatch position.” The MCB Agent was dressed in BDU pants and a polo shirt and had his cap on backwards. “We’ve spotted multiple shamblers and two wights. The wights seem to be being used as heavy hitters. The shamblers are also acting in controlled fashion. Some are randomly shambling but large groups are moving in coordinate groups. Some of the houses seem to be holding out. They’re all surrounded. There is a large group by the school. They don’t seem to be attacking. Just standing there.”

  “Like they’re on guard?” Doctor Joan asked. She’d kitted out and taken over so Lucius could get dressed.

  “Appears that way. We’d had scattered reports of possible shambler activity in this area. But it makes no sense here.”

  “It sounds as if someone is trying to create an army,” Doctor Joan said. “There’ve been other attempts. Bring about the apocalypse, ’cause the second coming, bring forth the Great Old Ones, whatever. Anyone who studies necromancy for any long period of time stands to suffer psychotic break and at that point direct logic, inductive or deductive, becomes moot, Special Agent.”

  She pumped her shotgun.

  “So we introduce the most direct logic possible,” she added, smiling.

  “This almost calls for SRT,” the agent said. He sounded hesitant.

  “If we can’t deal with it, I agree, call your Special Response Team,” Doctor Nelson said, loading another round. “But we can generally deal with it. I’m concerned about the school.”

  “So am I…” the agent’s radio squawked.

  “One of the houses failed,” the other agent called. “They’re in.”

  “We need to get moving,” Doctor Joan said.

  “Take a spare radio,” the agent offered. “We may be able to spot threats you don’t see.”

  That guy was going to go nowhere in MCB.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later I was in the back of a pick-up truck, loaded for zombie and doing a rosary.

  I’d started to write music. My mom had forced me to study violin before I got into total rebellion mode. But the truth was I liked music. I had even studied guitar on my own after I was out of the house. I’d recently heard some Christian rock and started to get into it. Totally Protestant stuff but I liked it. I was working on a few songs of my own. I was humming one as we approached the town.

  “What are you humming?” Louis asked. “I’ve been trying to figure out where I’ve heard it.”

  “I’m writing it,” I said. “All I’ve really got is the chorus.

  I sang it for them.

  “You are way too into this whole Holy Warrior kick, man,” Jesse said, grinning.

  My primary was my Uzi. If they weren’t at extremely close range it was better to fill wights full of silver. Going Mo No Ken was for when they were on top of you. Better to use .45 in most cases.

  Or grenades. We had those. Or a rocket launcher. We had those. And if we got chased into a defensive position we had claymores.

  God helps him who helps himself. The God of Angel Armies might be on my side but so was a 1911 loaded with silver.

  “Whom shall I fear?” I half hummed, half sung as I racked the charging handle. “I know who stands before me, I know who stands behind…”

  “Shambler at the moment,” Louis said. “You ready to pay attention to killing zombies?”

  The sign for Rendon was barely in sight. It was going to be a busy day.

  “It’s where I started,” I said, getting up and looking over the cab. “Looking forward to it.”

  Jesse targeted the shambler with his BDL. There was a crack. “Shambler down.”

  “And it starts,” Louis said, hefting a shotgun.

  We rounded a curve and entered undead city.

  There was a small park on our right and it had several shamblers in it. The truck stopped and we opened up. I used the Uzi. Not great for the range but it would work. Jesse, frankly, got most of them, firing his BDL off-hand. Louis covered the other side of the truck and got a couple that tumbled down the hill.

  As that cluster was cleared out we moved on.

  There were shamblers everywhere. It really did look like some movie about the zombie apocalypse. Shamblers weren’t bothering me. I was worried about the wights. When the hordes got close the Uzi came into play and proved its worth. While everyone else was reloading I was still potting zombie brains. The one time that it looked like there might be too many, I dropped a bunch within feet of the truck and it was just “Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop,” Zulu down with just about every round. And if I missed I had more rounds to back that one up.

  We were on a dirt road called Portland Street headed to one of the houses the MCB said was surrounded when we encountered the wights. And, Lord praise, we got a call in advance.

  “MCB says wights inbound,” Doctor Joan called from the cab. “From the west.”

  I ducked down and grabbed a LAW. Why not?

  “You’re going to use that back here?” Louis said.

  “Backblast won’t bother us,” I said, opening the tube.

  I oriented that way and was the first to spot them as they came out from around a house. And didn’t even hesitate. I’d already spotted the range and let go. They were running right at us and I hit the one on the left square in the chest. It vanished in a dust cloud and a clap of thunder.

  “THAT’S GOTTA HURT!” I shouted then cackled madly.

  When the dust cleared it was apparent that one had more or less vani
shed—I’m sure its bits were somewhere—and the other one was not in great shape. It stumbled to its feet, missing an arm, and came trotting at us much slower than normal.

  “Save the other rocket launcher,” Doctor Lucius said as I bent down. “We might need it.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, targeting it with the Uzi.

  All three of us in the back as well as the team in the trailing truck laid into it. The wight never even made it to the truck. Put enough destruction on them and they will lie down and be good dead.

  Just to make sure, I got out, went over and tossed a Willie Pete grenade on it.

  “We’re going to have to find the pieces of the other one to get the PUFF you realize,” Doctor Joan said as I walked back to the truck.

  “I’m sure there are some around somewhere,” I said, grinning. “Pieces through superior firepower.”

  “That’s just baaad,” Jesse said. “Shamblers incoming.”

  A big crowd of them were headed our way from the direction of Adams Street. That was the direction of the house that was under threat.

  “Got that covered,” Jesse said.

  There were only about ten. My long range accuracy with the Uzi had improved. I think I got five. Not bad for head shots from fifty meters with a .45 subgun on moving targets. Jesse was more accurate but had to keep reloading. Louis was using an AR-15 but he really needed to spend more time at the range.

  We followed the FBI directions to the house and knew which one it was when we saw the American flag being waved out a window.

  A lot of the houses in town looked, frankly, worn. The area was definitely economically somewhat depressed. This was a newer house and very sturdily built. The walls were stone and the windows had had faux wood steel shutters that were functional. Some intelligent soul had closed them all. There was a new model pick-up, jacked up, in the driveway.

  We pulled into the driveway and the, clearly reinforced, front door opened. A man in his forties stepped out holding an M-16 and looking around warily.

  “All clear,” Doctor Joan said, stepping out of the truck. “At least at the moment.”

  “Guess you’re the cavalry?” the man said. He had the look I’d come to know when people encountered Joan in her work clothes. She was a slight, cute woman and just had that academic look. You expected her to be wearing peasant dresses and big glasses not body armor and carrying a twelve gauge.

  “Doctor Joan Nelson, sir, MHI.” She extended a business card.

  “Elmer Norton,” the man said, taking the card then shaking her hand. He tucked the card in a pocket of his shooting jacket. “What the hell is happening, Doctor?”

  “We were hoping you could shed some light. We got called in on a zombie outbreak but very little information got out. Do you have any?”

  “I’ve seen ’em. But they ain’t acting like real zombies. At least not like the ones in the movies. They’re moving around in groups and there’s a couple of fast, strong ones.”

  “Took care of those,” Joan said.

  “How?” the man said. “I shot ’em a couple of times and it don’t faze ’em.”

  I reached down and picked up the expended LAW tube before Doctor Joan could reply and held it overhead in a victory pose.

  “Ooor, oor, arrrrr!” I howled, imitating a Sand People from Star Wars.

  “Okay!” the man said, laughing. “I like how you roll, young man!”

  I could see there were people peeking out from behind him. Including a cute little redhead holding a carbine. Probably a little young and given her probable dad…Need to be careful there.

  “One thing you should know,” Mr. Norton said. “I’ve seen ’em herding girls down towards the school.”

  “Girls?” Doctor Joan said.

  “Yeah,” Norton said. “Just girls. Looks like they’ve been turning everybody else or tearing ’em up. But girls like Sally here,” he gestured to his, yes probably, daughter. “They’re not being turned. They’re begin taken towards the high school. Probably to it.”

  “That fits with the intel we’ve gotten,” Doctor Joan said as there was a crack from the trail vehicle.

  “One shambler down,” Brad called on the radio. “How long we going to sit here?”

  “We need to go,” Joan said. “Other people to save.”

  “Want help?” the man asked.

  “Probably better if you lock back up and protect your family,” Joan said, walking back to the truck. “We’ve got this.”

  There were a bunch of dead shamblers around the house. We were going to be filing some PUFF on Mr. Norton’s behalf.

  “FBI says two more houses are surrounded,” Lucius radioed.

  “There’s something going on at the school. We should stop that first, then clear the houses,” Joan radioed.

  “Concur,” Lucius said.

  The other two houses were about the same. They were both solidly built like Norton’s house. Even the wights had had a hard time getting into them. Lots of shambler bodies. Those three houses had done a fair job of clearing out the town. They’d have to wait.

  That left the school. This place was too small to have a school this size, but the other small towns probably fed into it. MCB overwatch reported there were still shamblers outside the school. They were concentrated by the gym.

  We simply drove up, spread out and opened fire.

  The shamblers just took it for a bit then started shambling forward dropping in twos and threes. There were about thirty of them, probably most of the remaining population of the small town, and they were all RIP before they got within thirty yards of the vehicles.

  “So now to find out what’s going on in that gym,” Doctor Joan said. She’d unloaded from the vehicle and was standing by the open door.

  “Permission to take point, ma’am,” I asked. I’d reloaded the Uzi and reloaded my pouches from mags taken from my assault pack.

  “Granted, Chad.”

  The gym had the normal double door system. The outer doors were glass. The inner were steel with reinforced glass windows. Most of the glass of the doors was shattered by stray rounds. There were a few bullet punches through the metal doors. No shamblers in the foyer.

  I approached from the side and peeked in through the windows, getting a look around.

  What had to be every girl in the town was sitting on a set of bleachers on the right side of the gym. They didn’t look particularly happy. Most of them were crying.

  There was a line of shamblers standing in front of the bleachers, apparently guarding the girls and keeping them from escaping.

  At the back of the gym a stage had been set up. On it was a big lounge chair and a table. A man I thought I vaguely recognized had a girl tied to the table and was cutting on her stomach.

  “Necromancer on the far side,” I whispered. “Girls on the right side. Ten shamblers guarding the girls. Sacrifice on an altar.”

  “I’ll take the necromancer,” Jesse said, hefting his BDL.

  “Kill him and the shamblers go random,” I said, hefting the Uzi. “Shamblers first.”

  “Agreed,” Doctor Lucius said. “Try the doors.”

  “Watch your fire,” Doctor Joan said. “Shout ‘Get down, get down.’”

  The doors were locked.

  “Phil.”

  The doors opened outward. It was going to take one hell of a blast to open them. And that necromantic rite wasn’t going to last forever.

  Phil rigged the doors and we exited the building to blow them. It was a heavy charge.

  There was a big BOOM! as the doors were breached.

  “GET DOWN! GET DOWN!” I bellowed as I led the way in.

  A couple of shamblers had gotten hit by the door. Big charge. None of the girls seemed injured but most of them were screaming and climbing up the bleachers trying to escape. Some of the shamblers were following them, others were headed our way.

  Ten shamblers. Seven expert hunters. They were down in seconds.

  That left the necromancer.
He’d hit the deck when the door went in and only stood up as we were finishing off the shamblers. I’d already started running for the sacrifice on the far side.

  He didn’t even try to finish the rite, whatever it was. He drew a pistol and started shooting.

  Wrong move.

  I skidded to a halt, dropped to a knee and put three rounds in his chest.

  Then I kept going.

  The girl was cut up bad. He had been writing something in a cryptic language on her stomach. Some sort of symbol that was ugly as hell. But she was alive. Crying but alive.

  I let other people handle that and walked around the makeshift altar. Something about the necromancer was bothering me.

  He was an ordinary looking guy. Medium height, brown hair…

  “Why Reverend Donahue,” I said, grinning and pointing the Uzi at his forehead. “How nice to make your acquaintance again.”

  “Who?” he said. “Help me…”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said, still grinning. “Elkins, West Virginia? Primitive Baptist tent revival? Ring a bell?”

  “That was…you,” he said, snarling.

  “That was me. But that’s not important, now. Done deal. Why the girls?”

  “Fuck you,” he spluttered. “Get me a doctor! I’ve got rights!”

  “Doesn’t work that way, not with necromancy,” I said, switching to a semi and putting a round in his knee. Then I stepped on it but didn’t put pressure. “Why. The. Girls?”

  “Payment,” he gasped. “Ten virgins for a…wight.”

  “To the lich in Seattle?” I asked.

  “Who?” he said.

  “To who?” I asked.

  “No. Never.”

  I leaned on the knee as he screamed. There were some competing screams from his victims.

  “Who?” I said, finally letting up pressure.

  “The Dark…Masters…”

  And that was about as much as his ravaged body could handle. He died.

  Then his eyes flew open and he started to sit up.

  And Mo No Ken took care of that little revenant problem.