by Glyn Gardner
Jen looked over her shoulder at the girl. She was smiling. Even as the sound of gunfire grew louder, the girl was smiling. It was the first time she had smiled since Jackson had died. A shiver crept up her spine. She wasn’t sure why, but the girl’s smile made her uncomfortable. There was something sinister about it, something…crazy.
SSgt Brown gunned the engine and laid on the horn as the humvee swung onto the paved road. As one, the mass of rotting flesh focused on the newest and loudest source of stimulus. Those in front of the vehicle simply walked towards it until they were knocked over by the cattle guard or run over by the over-sized, self-inflating tires.
Soon, he began slamming the front of the humvee into the fence that surrounded the base. One after another, six to eight foot sections would fall under the weight of the camouflaged truck. Sometimes zombies would get trapped beneath the metal fence. Sometimes he would drive through the fence, only to return through another section in a figure eight pattern. The entire time he was honking his horn and leading the procession of the dead away from the entrance of the base.
The mass of decaying flesh shuffling behind the humvee was so dense that SSgt Brown wasn’t able to see the rest of the vehicles dart onto the base. It took Jen, standing in the turret ring, to see the brake lights of the last vehicle cut between two large buildings. “They’re in,” she announced.
SSgt Brown threw the wheel hard to the right, forcing Jen to grip the turret ring with both hands and bend her knees in order to stay within the confines of the humvee. He led the dead on a slow circuitous route from the road and around two homes that did not have fences. He continued back the way he’d come through several front yards and past the tail of the great zombie conga line.
They pulled into the cemetery and began a long slow spiral. The dead followed dutifully behind the camouflaged vehicle. After what seemed like an eternity, SSgt Brown gunned the engine and straightened the wheel. The humvee plowed over several dozen zombies as it charged to the outside of the spiral, only to repeat the process over and over again.
Things had been going much easier for Sgt Procell and the rest. With the bulk of the local ghouls busy chasing SSgt Brown and the girls on a merry-go-round of the macabre, they had been able to locate several of the vehicles they needed with little difficulty. Things were about to change.
None of the vehicles had keys. In general, military vehicles don’t need to keys to run. They are, however, usually locked with a padlock when not in use. There, parked in front of him were no less than five D7 armored bulldozers and six M9 Armored Combat Earthmover (ACE). The D7 was simply an armored version of a civilian bulldozer, while the ACE was designed and built especially for military use. Sgt Procell had spent many nights at the National Training Center at Fort Erwin sleeping on top of an ACE.
But where were the keys? If this was an army post, he’d know exactly where to find the keys and manuals for every vehicle in the motor pool. But, this was a Navy base. The motor pool he was standing in was simply a parking lot situated between three large structures. All three looked like warehouses, and none were marked as a maintenance unit or even a Seabee unit
He looked to Chief Romanov and shrugged. The Chief simply shrugged back. It was obvious he did not know where to find keys either. “Ok,” the Chief announced. “We have to check these buildings.”
“You take those men and check that building,” he ordered the lower ranking soldier. “My guys will check this building.”
Sgt Procell’s leg began to throb. He was sure it was all in his head, but he agreed. This is going to hurt. He would have liked to take the buildings down one at a time. “No,” the sailor had told him. “You guys get that one.” The sailors trotted off towards their chosen target.
Sgt Procell turned to the men who were going in with him. He didn’t know them. One was the man who had driven the grey truck, the one who refused SSgt Brown’s orders. He didn’t trust him.
“Ok, look,” he began. “We knock and listen first. If we don’t hear anything, we open the door quietly and peek in. If it’s clear, we go. If we can handle whatever’s there, we do it from outside. Don’t go charging in. If the place is overrun, we shut the door and go somewhere else.”
The NCO looked at the faces of the men he was about to go into battle with for the first time. They looked more like a road construction crew than soldiers. But, he thought, things aren’t the same. Everyone is a soldier now. You’re either a soldier or you’re dead.
“Anybody got any questions?” he asked in his deepest Carolina drawl. They all shook their heads no. Their eyes told another story. They just wanted to get it over with. It didn’t matter to them if they understood him or not. They were scared.
“Don’t worry guy,” he said. “I’m going first. Anything in there’s gotta go through me to get to you all.” One or two of the men released a nervous chuckle. Good, he thought, let’s do this.
Bang, bang, bang! He knocked on the big metal door three times. Wait, count to ten, he thought. Listen. Nothing, it was quiet. He turned the handle slowly. The latch released and the door began to swing slowly outwards towards him. He slipped his rifle through the door and pushed the door farther open.
The inside of the big metal building was dark. A wedge of light began growing on the ground in front of the door. There were still no signs of life inside. He waited another few seconds, scanning the darkness and trying not to become mesmerized by the dust that floated in the sliver of light.
When he was satisfied, he pushed the door open wide enough to pass through. He knew the guys behind him had no idea what they were doing. He didn’t count on them covering their own sector of the room, like he had been taught, as they entered. He simply scanned from right to left as he stepped in. Nothing. Good.
He crept in several more steps, trying to listen as he did. Shoes pounded the ground behind him as the men behind him flooded into the room. The room was still dark, save the light that reflected off of the concrete near the door. He knew the men couldn’t see shit. Hell, he could barely make out the door that was on the far wall. He spun his head and stuck his left index finger over his lips. A hiss quietly escaped his lips. Shhh.
Again, the room was quiet. His eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. He could read the placard on the door across the room. “Lt Preston, Logistics” Good, he thought. This was a supply warehouse and that was the supply officer’s office. If they couldn’t find the keys to the dozers, maybe they could come up with a couple of sets of bolt cutters.
“Spread out in groups of two and look around,” he whispered to the men behind him. “Look for keys or bolt cutters. Don’t waste time with anything else.” He pointed to the man directly behind him. “Follow me.”
The duo walked quickly but quietly to the door opposite them. It was made of cheap wood, and painted grey. The top half was frosted glass. A quick rap on the door didn’t elicit a response from inside.
He slowly opened the door, rifle in one hand. He breathed a quick sigh of relief at the empty room. Well, he thought, it wasn’t exactly empty. There was a desk with a computer and a dirty coffee mug. The far wall was covered in grey metal filing cabinets. The wall to the left, the first one seen as the door opened, was filled with plaques and awards. This was Lt. Preston’s “I love me” wall. Not too shabby, Sgt Procell thought, for a swab jockey.
The rest of the office was devoid of anything useful. He hoped that the maintenance chief or officer would have the keys to the vehicles, but it was worth a try. He was turning to leave the room when the first shot rang out. It was followed by another. He quickly realized the shooting was not coming from inside of his building. Chief Romanov, he thought, must be in trouble. He ran to the open door and peered out.
More shots, these fired in rapid succession. The building the Chief was searching was to the west, away from the motor pool relative to his building. The three sailors were bounding backwards, one shooting while the other two ran. Once the first man stopped shooting, the next man would turn
and fire four or five rounds. The third man would soon replace him as the shooter.
Sgt Procell stood, stunned by the sailor’s skill. Then the first zombie stumbled out of the building. It had been a young man, wearing the blue camouflaged fatigues of the U.S. Navy. The man suddenly fell forward as blackish-pink mist exploded from the back of his head. A second, third, and fourth sailor-zombie followed.
Sgt Procell raised his rifle and began firing at the new threat. He saw his target fall, pinkish mist still floating in the air behind it. He changed his aim to acquire a new target. He counted seven zombies outside of the building now.
Chief Romanov slapped his right shoulder as he passed. “Go!” he yelled. “That building’s packed with ‘em.”
Sgt Procell turned to run. After a second step he stopped. Turning, he realized none of his people had exited the building. “Let’s go!” he barked as loud as he could.
He peered inside the door, but his night vision had been ruined. He could hear the sounds of shoes slapping on concrete. They were coming. He looked back at the growing hoard. Shit, he thought, so were they.
The first man sprinted out the door. Sgt Procell grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the sailors. The second man through the door held up a set of red bolt cutters as he was flung in the direction of the others. The third and forth men out began shooting as they exited.
Again, Sgt Procell could see they were firing wildly. He slapped each on the back of the shoulder. “Go!” he ordered them. He fired several rounds into the closest zombie. The monster was so close he was sure he could feel the blackish-pink mist on his face. He turned and tried to catch up with the others. His injured leg screamed with every step.
He saw the man with the bolt cutters catch up with Chief Romanov. The chief yelled something to the rest of his sailors. The trio fired several rounds towards the mass of dead. Several bullets zipped close enough to Sgt Procell to make him duck as he ran.
He didn’t dare turn around. He simply hobbled along as fast as he could towards the group. Several more shots rang out as the group rounded the corner. He was still twenty yards away. He put his head down in an effort to squeeze all the speed he could out of his leg.
He looked up just in time to miss the man wearing the red baseball cap and white shirt. It was the man who had followed him into the office. The man took careful aim as the NCO rounded the corner. Sgt Procell could hear several shots close behind him.
Then the man soon slid his shoulder under Sgt Procell’s left arm. “C’mon Sergeant,” he pleaded. “They’re right behind us.”
He could see the others swarming over the dozers. First one ACE and then another began to rumble, driven by a Seabee. He saw the door of one of the D7’s thrown open. Black smoke soon belched from its exhaust stack. The two men reached the other D7 just as Chief Romanov cut the lock. “Go!” he told them as he leapt from the vehicle.
Sgt Procell scampered up the rear of the armored bulldozer, laying flat on the roof. The other man climbed into the cab and turned the engine over. The sudden appearance of a cloud of black smoke momentarily choked Sgt Procell.
After ensuring everyone was either driving or riding in one of the engineering vehicles, Chief Romanov sprinted for the humvee. Three of the civilians followed suit. Sgt Procell saw several zombies close to their path. The old sailor sure was cutting it close. He took careful aim and fired a single round each into the heads of the two closest zombies. Both fell before they could reach the foursome.
The humvee lurched as the Chief stomped on the gas pedal. The ACE’s pulled in behind him, followed by the two D7’s. The Chief led them around the third building in an attempt to put some distance between them and the zombies who were following them.
Unfortunately for them, more zombies approached from that quarter. He threw the wheel over to the right and circled the building again. The line of zombies began to stretch out behind them. The next left brought them back to the motor pool area. This time thought, the line of zombies was slowly marching left to right in front of them. The old sailor gunned the engine of the humvee, upending several zombies as he did.
Looking back, he could see the closest ACE had also sped up. This time the zombies weren’t lucky enough to merely get upended. Several of them were literally ground into the concrete by the tracks of the olive drab colored vehicle. He led the group to one of the holes in the fence, honking his horn the entire way.
SSgt Brown was on an eastbound leg of his route when the other humvee charged from between the buildings, followed by an ACE. Nice, he thought. He’d seen the ACE at work in Iraq. He knew it was a very capable earthmover. A second ACE appeared.
“Hold on,” he told the women. He slew the wheel to the right and pressed down on the the gas, slamming into several zombies as he did. Jen let her knees bend like shock absorbers as he bounced over the uneven ground at high speed.
The humvee reached the pavement about 200 yards ahead of Chief Romanov. He glanced in the rearview mirror once before zooming off to the east. He could see the Chief’s hummer and one of the ACE’s. Good.
Sgt Procell’s voice almost gave out from yelling. “Stop!” he yelled one more time. But it was no use. The humvees and ACE’s turned the corner without slowing down. What he didn’t know, and no one had told Chief Romanov, was that the D7 had a top speed of about 6 miles per hour. These two hadn’t been started or maintained in a couple of months at least.
He looked at the growing hoard of dead flesh. They were neither gaining on, nor falling behind the humans. Shit! How the hell did he end up stuck on a slow assed bulldozer? He looked ahead wishing one of those 30 mph ACE’s would come back. He loved the ACE. He was now convinced that he should hate the D7.
“What the hell?” the man in the baseball cap yelled to the soldier. “This is bullshit! Don’t they see us?” The answer was a big fat no.
Ten minutes later, the abbreviated convoy pulled up to the northern gate of the Haven. SSgt Brown and Chief Romanov pulled over to allow the construction vehicles to pass. He was just getting out of his vehicle when he heard the old sailor start cursing incessantly. He could see fear and anger in the man’s eyes.
“What?” he asked as calmly as he could and still be heard. “What’s wrong?”
“The dozers!” the man said. “We lost the dozers.” SSgt Brown could hear the panic in the man’s voice.
“What dozers?”
“We got a couple of D7’s, real civilian type dozers with armor plating. Your Sergeant Procell and a couple of the civvies were bringing up the rear.”
Jen had heard the conversation. Her heart sank when the man mentioned Sgt Procell. “We have to go back,” she told them from the turret ring of the HMMWV. SSgt Brown thought for a second.
Finally, he looked at the sailor in disgust. “Get these ACEs where they’re needed.” He looked at his girls. “We’ll go back for them.”
Jen again had to let her knees act as shock absorbers as SSgt Brown jerked the wheel left and then right around abandoned cars. She hoped for her sake that they found the others on a long straight away, and not at a corner. She cringed at the thought of being thrown from the vehicle in a head-on collision.
“There!” she yelled, pointing. The green dozers crawled toward them from about a quarter of mile to their right. SSgt Brown jerked the wheel to the right one more time.
They could all hear the gunshots as they closed on the duo of dozers. Jen’s heart sank when she saw it. Behind the second dozer was a mass of moving grey flesh. She had never seen so many dead in one place before. They literally seemed to stretch to the horizon.
“Pull over,” she ordered. “Pull over now!” The vehicle skidded to a stop behind a green Dodge pickup. He slapped her left leg and unbuckled his seatbelt. The message was clear: “out of the way.”
He couldn’t believe his eyes. The last time he’d seen a hoard that big was the first day. His heart skipped a beat. His mind’s eye flashed back to that horrible day. How the zombie
s had blown through Alpha Troop like they hadn’t even been there.
But this group was larger. They were being funneled down a fairly narrow street, but there were so many of them. How do we get them off the dozers? He dropped back down into the driver’s seat. He tugged on the gear shifter and jammed his foot onto the gas. The vehicle careened towards the dozer. He slammed on the breaks as he came to the last cross street and backed in.
“Let’s see if we can’t draw some of them off of the dozers,” he told the girls. They waited intently as the dozers rumbled slowly past the parked HMMWV. Once passed, he hit the gas.
The vehicle hurdled through the intersection, striking several zombies with the right corner of the hood. Two were upended and landed momentarily on the hood before sliding off. He jammed his palm into the horn as the vehicle continued down the road.
Jen scrambled back into the turret ring. She needed to see what was happening behind them. Nothing, that’s what was happening, nothing. The zombies hadn’t paid them any mind. They simply continued to follow the dozers as the lumbered down the street. Oh shit, she suddenly thought.
“We’ve got to stop them,” she yelled to SSgt Brown.
“What?” he asked as he jammed the breaks. He could also see the zombies hadn’t followed.
“That road leads right to the Haven,” she announced. She was right. Everyone knew it. Right now, the dozers were leading a giant hoard of the dead right to the gates of the Haven. They had to do something to stop them. Jen figured they had about four blocks before it would be too late.
SSgt Brown gunned the gas, circling the block. He hoped to catch the dozers at the next intersection. He just made it. The humvee slid into the intersection just as the dozers cleared it.
Jen began firing at the zombies who were only feet from the driver’s side of the vehicle. Several of them began banging on the doors and windows, leaving bloody streaks as they did so. When SSgt Brown judged that enough of the dead were attracted to them, he gunned the engine, again, knocking several to the ground and crushing one or two below the driver’s side tires.
