by Glyn Gardner
Jen stopped firing as they pulled slowly away from the crowd. A few zombies tried to follow them. But, most of them continued south behind the dozers. Damnit! She fired a few shots in frustration, but nothing would really make a difference. “No!” she shouted into the vehicle. “Only a few took the bait.”
“One more time!” he told her.
A minute later, they sat stopped. They were 100 yards from the intersection, behind a four car pileup. “Shit!” SSgt Brown yelled in frustration. He hadn’t even realized there was a traffic jam. Now, here they were 100 yards from the intersection, watching the dozers lead the zombies closer to the Haven. He slammed the vehicle into reverse and gunned the gas, narrowly missing an orange Honda in the process.
The next intersection would be their last chance. He gunned the engine in an effort to beat the dozers. He’d been reacting on the fly. He needed some time to come up with a plan, even if it was just a moment.
They slid to a stop 50 yards from the closest dozer. The area wasn’t going to help. The corner had 3 houses with the northwest corner vacant. There were few cars on this street. Trees! There were trees in both front yards. If he could knock them down and block the road, it could buy them enough time.
He jumped onto the ladder of the first dozer. “Can you knock that tree across the road?” The man looked puzzled. “Sure,” he answered. “I guess.”
“Do it,” he ordered. “Do it now!”
He leapt to the ground and ran to the next dozer. He noticed that his efforts had paid a small dividend. The closest zombie was about 100 meters away. “I need you to knock that tree across the yard. Try to get it as close to the house as you can,” he ordered the man. For his part, the man nodded his head and continued driving the dozer.
The big NCO ran back to his humvee. If the trees fell right, he could use his truck to block the last of the holes. The zombies would stand there for hours trying to get over the fallen trees.
He watched as the first tree fell across the road, blocking it and about half of the yard on the east side. He slid the humvee into the space between the house and now exposed roots of the tree. It fit almost perfectly. The last of the women were climbing out of the truck when the second dozer’s engine began to growl loudly, signaling that it was pushing the second tree over. SSgt Brown could see it was none too soon. The first of the approaching zombies were filing past the dozer.
He and the girls fired several shots at the zombies as the tree fell. To everyone’s horror, the tree landed squarely on the roof of the house. Zombies streamed through the newly formed tunnel of tree branches. It was slowing them down a bit. But, it was definitely not stopping them.
The man driving the second dozer, the one Sgt Procell was riding, quickly jumped to the ground. Without a look, he sprinted towards the newly built wall of the Haven.
Sgt Procell realized he was in trouble. He was stranded eight feet off of the ground, surrounded by an ever growing hoard of zombies. He had been shooting almost nonstop since they left the base. He was down to about 100 rounds of ammo.
“Get up the tree!” Theresa yelled to him. “Get on the roof. We’ll meet you around back.” She did not wait for the rest. She sprinted around the south side of the house, mere feet away from the closest zombie. She fired two shots from her shotgun as she passed. Several rifle shots reassured her she was not alone.
A quick glance told her Sgt Procell was almost on the roof and that the crowd of zombies was growing, fast. “Hurry,” she yelled to the others. She hopped over a small chain linked fence to get into the backyard.
She saw the soldier coming over the crest of the roof. “C’mon!” she ordered. “We have to go!”
The older man rubbed his leg. He knew he couldn’t run with them. “You go! I’ll be fine till you can come back.” Hell, he thought, it’s only 200 meters outside the gate.
“C’mon!” she repeated. “We’re not leaving you. You’ve got to jump!” She could see the fear on his face. He’d rather stay there and maybe starve than run again.
“You have to go!” he countered. He pointed to the fence. The flood of grey flesh was quickly surrounding them. “You know I can’t make it.” The other three were firing a steady stream of lead in the direction of the fence.
“We have to go now,” SSgt Brown told her. “We’ll come back for you!” he yelled to the other soldier. He took three magazines from one of his pouches. “Here,” he said as threw them up one at a time. “You may need these.”
He turned to run to the back fence. That direction had far less zombies than the other three sides did. Ten years ago, that part of the fence had been damaged by a storm. The previous home owner hadn’t really fixed it so much as made it look good. No one in the group knew of the storm or the damage it caused. Unfortunately, just before they reached the fence it fell. A couple of dozen zombies began shambling towards the now overexposed group.
SSgt Brown slid in order to slow his momentum. Kerry and Theresa did the same. Jen, who was heavier and out of shape, had more trouble slowing. She actually fell face first as she tried to stop.
SSgt Brown helped her to her feet as the other two fired into the mass of flesh. “The house,” Theresa yelled. She didn’t look to see if the rest followed. She simply ran to the back door.
She jerked the door as if expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. The door flew open, a zombie falling face first at her feet. Without a thought, she jammed the shotgun into the back of the monster’s head and fired. She stepped in, quickly scanning the room. It was a kitchen. There was dried blood everywhere.
She glanced at the zombie lying headless on the ground. She doubted that all of the blood came from her. There were other zombies here. All of this took about a second. Just long enough for the rest of her little band to catch up with her.
She slipped her right hand into her sweatshirt pocket. Grasping a couple of shells, she deftly slid them into the under-barrel magazine of the shotgun. She didn’t want to meet the next zombie with two shells in her gun. Now, at least she’d have four.
She pulled the door shut just before the first zombies reached it. She threw the lock and the deadbolt. She wasn’t sure how well that would hold, but at least it was something. Two more gunshots rang out. The other occupants of the house had been found. She walked into the living room. Two bodies lay on the floor bleeding from head wounds. Puddles of black blood were rapidly spreading over the carpet. She couldn’t help but think that this must be someone’s grandma’s house. Everything in the house was old, including the dead.
A broken window interrupted her train of thought. The hoard had smashed one of the living room windows. Several began climbing through at once. They all fired a shot or two at the window and ran to the back of the house.
“We need to find the entrance to the attic,” she yelled. She suddenly remembered the Landry’s. They had sat on their roof for days after climbing into their attic. From there they had used a screwdriver to get out onto the roof.
They found the ladder to the attic in the back hallway. SSgt Brown covered the women as they ascended the stairs. Once at the top, he pulled the rope and the attic entrance slammed semi-shut. The ladder was still protruding far enough to keep the panel from closing completely. But, it worked. The zombies couldn’t reach the attic. They were safe for now.
Thirty minutes later, they had managed to climb out onto the roof and reunite with Sgt Procell. SSgt Brown promptly retrieved his ammo from the younger soldier. The rest of the day was spent contemplating the situation.
SSgt Brown had suggested using the tree to cross over the hoard and get to the humvee. Jen pointed out that the hoard was growing too large and that the base of the tree was easily within reach of any nearby zombies.
Theresa had suggested shooting the gas tank of the humvee and starting a fire. SSgt Brown and Sgt Procell pointed out that the fuel tank on a humvee was underneath, and not visible from their vantage point. As well as the fact that the humvee was on the other side of the roa
d and a fire over there probably wouldn’t do much good.
Kerry had come up with the most constructive plan. She suggested stripping some of the larger branches from the tree currently lying across the roof and fashioning a bunch of spears. Then, as she put it, “we sit and play whack-a-mole until our arms get tired.”
With nothing better to do, the group thought that was probably the best way to affect their own rescue. The two men found the five best branches they could. They weren’t much to speak of. The tree was not dead, and the wood was as green and soft as it would ever be.
Someone, nobody would later remember who, came up with the idea of driving the roofing nails through the makeshift spears to give them a point. After trial and error it was decided that four nails would provide enough penetrating power to pierce a zombie skull. But, the nails quickly worked their way out and need replacement after a dozen or so zombies.
Jen got tired of stabbing zombies in the head pretty quickly. She decided to occupy her time by trying to count the bodies below them. She knew deep down that an accurate count would be impossible. The mass of flesh moved too much. After a while, she realized that she could estimate how many zombies were in a given area.
For example she counted about thirty-five zombies leaning up against the side of the house. She also counted about twenty-five zombies in the first row on the short side of the house. From that she could estimated that about 120 zombies would make up each layer of zombies.
She then started counting rows. She stopped at ten. Her heart sank. “How many bullets do we have?” she asked SSgt Brown.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Couple hundred now, I guess. Why?”
That’s it, it’s hopeless. They’re done for. They’re never getting off of this roof. She couldn’t help it. She began to sob. She couldn’t say it. She knew they were stuck for the rest of their short lives.
She thought about the irony. She had finally found a purpose in life after Mike’s death. She had finally found something to make her happy again. And, now that was going to be taken away. They were going to die, and for what? They were going to die because a tree didn’t fall the right way. It was as if God didn’t want them to survive.
And, why would he? Why would he want any of his children to live in a world filled with such horror? Maybe this was his rapture. Maybe this is his way of bringing us home.
Her head snapped up. She wiped the tears from her eyes. She was done. She was ready to go home. She stood and began walking to the edge of the roof. She looked each of her friends in the eye.
Only Kerry got it. She saw it as if she was reading Jen’s mind. “What’s up Jen?” she asked. Her voice was intentionally loud.
“Nothing,” Jen answered. She took another step.
“What’s wrong?” the young redhead asked. “It’s ok Jen. What’s wrong?” The young girl shot upright. She was so fast she startled the older woman. Jen could see it in her eyes. She knows, she thought. She knows what I’m going to do.
“Don’t do this,” the girl pleaded.
“What?” Theresa asked. “What are you doing Jen?” The older woman was only a few steps from salvation. She stopped. Theresa. Oh Theresa, she thought. She could see the realization cross the young girls face. Her face a mask of horror.
”No,” she said. “You can’t do this. Please.” Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. “Please don’t. I… I… I need you. You’re all I’ve got left.” She took a step forward.
Jen took a step away, closer to the edge. She couldn’t face the young girl. She couldn’t turn away. She loved Theresa. I’m not doing this to hurt you, she thought. It’s not about you.
She shook her head as she took another step back. SSgt Brown was on his feet now. “Jen,” he said. He was using his command voice. Like he can control this she thought. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to die.”
Die, she thought. She hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d thought about ending it, and going home. But, she never thought about dying. She stopped. She didn’t know how close she was to the edge, but it felt like she was right there.
“Please Jen,” he pleaded. “We’ve lost too many we care about, too many we love; you more than most of us. But you don’t have to do this. You’ve done so much good over the last few months. You’ve saved so many people.”
“And for what?” she yelled with tears running down her cheeks. I patch Jackson up, and I let him die. We couldn’t save Ms. Hebert.” She looked at Sgt. Procell. “What about your Lieutenant? I got him killed didn’t I?”
“What are you talking…?” He suddenly stopped talking. What was that sound? It was a high pitched whine. It was getting louder. They looked up just in time to see the jet fly over at about 500 feet. It was close enough to shake the roof.
The jet was grey with darker grey stars on the stubby little wings. SSgt Brown recognized it as a Harrier jump jet. The Marines flew Harriers. That’s a Marine!
Jen looked up too. Unfortunately, she also backed up a step with her right foot. That foot just caught the edge of the roof, causing her to fall onto her stomach and start sliding off of the roof.
Jen! He reached out for the woman. Both of her legs were off of the roof as she struggled to claw at the shingles, dislodging them as she did so. She curled her legs under her in an attempt to keep them above the plethora of grasping hands below.
He grabbed her left wrist and threw all of his weight towards the top of the roof. This stopped Jen’s downward progress only inches above the mass of outstretched hands. Sgt Procell and Theresa grabbed her waistband and dragged her up onto the roof.
SSgt Brown put his arms around her and held her tight. He felt her body shudder as she continued to sob. For a short moment no one spoke.
Soon, another sound could be heard over the moaning of the dead and Jen’s sobs. It was a deep rumble. Sgt Procell was the first to hear it. He stood and looked south. He had expected to see one of the HEMMTs coming up the street. He was utterly speechless by what he saw.
The marines call it an AAV. It looked like an armored boat with tracks and a pair of .50 caliber machineguns in a turret on top. It was painted green and brown camouflaged. The front of the machine sloped downward like the bow of a boat. It made the armored beast look even more menacing. It was larger than the M113 that Sgt Procell was used to. Damn it was big!
The AAV pulled up next to house. The top deck was about 2 feet below the roof. The driver pulled as close as he could to the house, crushing dozens of zombies beneath his left track. A hatch popped open and a Marine Staff Sergeant climbed out, dropping his helmet to the deck as he did. He rubbed his hand through his red hair, causing a small cloud of dirt to encircle his head.
“Someone called for a cab?” the young Marine asked in a thick northeastern accent. Kerry and Theresa jumped across and hugged the young Marine. Sgt Procell stepped across and hugged the Marine also. It wasn’t weird. It was what brothers in arms did.
SSgt Brown and Jen were the last to cross. Jen just sat down on the deck of the AAV. SSgt Brown introduced himself. “Staff Sergeant Paul Kirkpatrick 1st battalion 2nd Marines,” the Marine said as he extended a hand to the soldier. “Welcome aboard.”
Afterward
Guantanamo Bay Cuba
The soldier held the book in front of his face. The young redhead had just slid it across his desk. “You know,” she had said. “You’re pretty much responsible for most of that book.” He wasn’t sure he believed that. The cover read:
FM 90-31
Operations Against the Undead in Urban and Built Up Areas
It was a simple title for such an important book. But the woman was right. He had been responsible for much of the U.S. Army’s newest field manual. He, Mr. Westergart, Roy, and a dozen other survivors had spent the better part of two months arguing over what should be in it.
He looked at the woman. He was in awe at the change he’d seen in her. Six months ago, she had been a scared little girl, trapped in a sporting
goods store with a pair of monsters. She had adopted the group after they had rescued her from the Adam’s brothers.
Now look at her, he thought. The dark olive drab uniform she wore was pressed and her black boots held a high shine. It struck him as odd that the uniform she wore was actually made in Cuba.
He let his thoughts dwell on that for a moment. After the Marines had rescued them from the roof top, the survivors were taken on board the USS Wasp, a Naval Amphibious Assault Ship. Three days later, the combined inhabitants of the Haven and The Island, as well as the River Rats, walked off a gangplank onto the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base.
For decades, Cuba had been cut off from most of the western world. Her only allies had been Venezuela and a few other communist dictatorships in Central and South America. When the grey scourge, as it has now come to be known, hit, Cuba was spared.
Several prominent American politicians and military leaders managed to make their way to Guantanamo Bay. From there the treaty of the two gates was signed. The treaty guaranteed that the US would honor the territorial rights of the Cuban people in exchange for free passage rights, as well as trading rights.
Within days, US flagged ships and their cargos began showing up in Cuban harbors. In only a few short months, Cuba had been transformed from a struggling backwater, second rate Dictatorship, to the bastion of freedom and survival for the Western Hemisphere.
Portions of the US Military were being armed and equipped with equipment purchased from the Cuban government. Kerry, as an NCO in the logistics bureau, was one of those who didn’t rate what was thought of as top of the line gear. Although the lighter green webbed belt around her waist with a Beretta M9 pistol hanging from it told him that even the logistics folks won’t settle for substandard weapons.
He thumbed the book again. It was 127 pages of training, tactical, and operational doctrine. It covered everything from training troops in head shots to instructions on how to cordon and clear a medium sized city. He wondered how many lives would be saved in the coming months.
