Legacy of the Living

by Sean Liebling

  "This is Colonel Scarmon, Major Robinson. Welcome aboard. Can you update me on your forces please?" I was dying to ask why they had chosen this moment to announce themselves, for I had no doubt they had been aware of us for some time as I did not believe in coincidences, but managed to refrain. It would come out soon enough and right now we were in a bad way. I needed information and quickly.

  "A pleasure to finally meet you, Colonel, and yes, to answer your unspoken question we've known about you for most of a week and remained silent until we could gauge your intentions. We brought roughly a third of our forces, another third is at the Jackson County Airport protecting our dependents and refugees, and the last third is on the back leg of a supply run to Fort Campbell, Kentucky. What we have for you is twelve Black Hawk Assault with full teams, six DAP Black Hawks loaded for bear, and eight Little Birds also loaded for bear. Where do you want us?"

  "162nd SOAR, huh? No Chinooks?" My mind was running at a million miles a second, yet I wondered, and the big bastards sure would be handy right about now.

  "They're all on the supply run. Fort Campbell is gone, Fort Hunter is gone. Almost everything is gone, Colonel. "

  "I need your help and I need it now, Major. We are stuck. We tried to evacuate but the buses could not move fast enough to get clear in time. I have eight stuck along with four Strykers, and if we don't rescue those buses in the next few minutes the people on them are dead. Can you provide close air support?"

  "You bet we can, Colonel. ETA is now two minutes or less. Hold out until then."

  "Friendly fire pisses me off, Major. Just an FYI."

  "It does me too, Colonel. Nothing to worry about. The 162nd is the best of the best or we Rangers wouldn't ride with them." As the Major spoke I turned to LSS.

  "LSS. Mark the two pharmaceutical warehouses and Mercy Hospital and feed it to them over data link. Under no circumstances can those buildings be damaged, Major," I said.

  "Right away, Sir, and good idea," she responded.

  "No problem there, Sir, FYI well be dropping teams on your roof as we come in." the major replied.

  "Thank you and good luck. Scarmon out." I needed to communicate with my people and now. We had to keep the zombies off the buses or those people would be dead in less than two minutes. I pulled the headset off and switched frequencies again on my tactical command net.

  "Top. Get every shooter up and aiming at the zombies near the buses. We have to keep them thinned out. We have an air wing on the way."

  "What, Sir?! Say what?"

  "Quit arguing. Rangers are here to save our bacon. Drinks are on me tonight."

  "Fill me in later, Sir. I have zombies to shoot off buses, Sir."

  *****

  The Reaper paused as a sound he hadn't heard in years reached him through the muffling inserts in his ears. He had been shooting for almost an hour, and damn, he was tired and sore. He had already exhausted quite a bit of his thousand rounds and had wrapped a towel around the butt of his rifle to absorb more of the recoil, but he knew he would be a few days recovering from this one. If they made it out that is, and if they did, he was going to find more magazines. He hated reloading when there was game to kill. As the sound grew louder, he looked up, then behind, and his eyes widened. Choppers, and a couple dozen of them or more. They looked like calvary arriving, which he suspected they were. Then they neared his position and he recognized the AH-1J Little Birds just before they dropped below the level of buildings in staggered formation and their mini-guns opened up with a roar.

  Quickly he turned around again, noticing Travis had also stopped shooting, and watched as a line of destruction turned the street below them into a tidal wave of red death as the Little Birds moved forward slowly, causing an incredible amount of damage to the zombies. Then he felt the wind begin to whip overhead and the roof shook with a thump; he turned around again, looking up. A Black Hawk was hovering overhead and two camouflage-clad figures had rappelled down and were now running to the Reaper’s position. One was bearing an obvious sniper rifle, probably the new A5, thought the Reaper, as the other lugged two ammo satchels and a spotting scope with a rifle slung over his shoulder.

  The unknown soldier flung himself into a sitting position beside the Reaper, throwing a sandbag on the parapet, and after resting his M40A5 on it, for the Reaper recognized it now, he turned and grinned at Jason, holding out his hand.

  "Sergeant Buford, 9th Special Forces, here to help, Sir." The man was in his late twenties with a soft southern drawl.

  The Reaper gripped his hand hard before muttering, "Reaper, and don't call me Sir."

  "Heard of you. Heard you don't miss. Will that mod fit A5 magazines?" He was pointing at the Reaper's modified M40A1.

  "Yes, and the Lord won't let me miss."

  "Good, then grab one and let's do this, Reaper. Target rich environment, as they say." Sergeant Buford grinned while turning, shouldered his rifle and prepared to fire. The Reaper paused for a half second then turned, nodding at Travis who nodded back, and together the three of them lifted their rifles and fired. Seven hundred and fifty yards away, three zombie heads exploded as they tried to climb into the buses.

  *****

  "Target those near the buses," Robinson pointed, and both mini-guns opened up, raking a line of death beside the buses, narrowly missing the stranded Stryker beside them. Then the Black Hawk swiveled in place and another stream of fire descended to wipe out more of the zombies converging on the rescue efforts. He had teams dropping on all the closest buildings, firing downward. His DAPs and Little Birds had already caused massive undead casualties on the side streets leading to this position. Now he and five other assault Black Hawks were clearing them away from the stranded armored vehicles and buses. As he watched, the zombies riding on top of the Strykers were being eliminated by the sniper teams, and he called out to the pilot.

  "Patch me through to the Colonel!"

  "Yes Sir, and you’re live. Go, Sir."

  "Colonel?"

  "This is Corporal Rider, Major. Let me get the colonel." Robinson grinned again as he'd much rather talk with this communications officer than the colonel. Damn, he really had to meet her. If she was as sweet as her voice, he might consider settling down. Then the colonel’s voice filled his ears.

  "Scarmon. Go ahead, Major."

  "We cleared them off you. Now get your asses out of there because unless we collapse buildings, they'll be back in minutes.

  "Roger that, and negative on dropping buildings. We have no idea if there are other survivors out there or not."

  "What I figured, Sir. Standing by, but get your drivers moving please."

  "Right, Scarmon out!"

  *****

  I had just watched the arrival of the 162nd through the wireless video camera LSS had installed on Top’s helmet. Like banshees, they had swooped down between the buildings, knowing that a drift of fifteen feet in either direction would cause their destruction if their rotors collided with the brick of the buildings. The expertise the pilots exhibited was phenomenal, as was the destruction, and I watched a series of massive crawling explosions wiping zombies out along all the side streets. They had saved our ass, and for that I was truly grateful. Then LSS was demanding my attention. The major was on the horn.

  *****

  DAY 12: 1830 ET TUESDAY NOVEMBER 15TH

  Nolan paused as they neared the cleared fire zone surrounding Newaygo. They'd had to tie the asset up as she’d proved incapable of cooperating regardless of the number of times he'd beaten her. He was pissed about that because it slowed them down. The bruises on her face attested to his anger, and right now Locke and Cobb were carrying her.

  Nolan and his team, along with the asset, had laid up in the safe house until dark, taking advantage of the current emergency that had this commander of Newaygo's on a run to Muskegon. That information they had gleaned from a woman ambushed as she was leaving her home for the complex. Everyone was supposed to take shelter at that location until this governor
was back. That just made things simpler for Nolan.

  As they crouched at the brush line that marked the start of the fifty-yard fire zone, the asset stirred beside Nolan, then started thrashing. Angrily, Nolan turned, his fist raised to beat her unconscious again when Locke stopped him by grabbing his arm.

  "Stop it dude. You are insane. You keep this shit up, she'll be dead by the time we get to base, and that asshole will have an example made of you and maybe your wife and kid too, and maybe us!" Locke hissed his words as he lay over Jean, the weight of his body keeping her from making more than tiny movements, and also kept Nolan from beating her again.

  "I'm in charge, Locke, if I want to teach her to be quiet my way, I will. Don't fuck with me," Nolan hissed in return. They were less than thirty yards from a guard post and he didn't want to alert them.

  "Don't fuck with us, Nolan! You're only in charge because we let you be." Cobb had spoken, and was holding his suppressed MP5 muzzle down but pointed in Nolan's direction. "You have issues and we know you beat your wife and kid. That shit is wrong, even for us. Resolve them or I'll drop you," and the muzzle rose slightly. Nolan thought quickly.

  "Guys, I'm okay. This whole thing is fucked up and I just want to get back. I don't need the asset giving us away. None of us wants attention."

  "I'll talk to her, Nolan. Cobb, keep an eye on him. He leads from now on. I no longer trust him at my back," said Locke.

  "My thought exactly," Cobb murmured.

  Locke finally quieted the asset after talking to her and they managed to get across the fire zone undetected, then two miles out they signaled the helicopter for a pickup.

  Now they had the asset tied into a seat and Nolan was reasserting his command position.

  "This isn't over between us," Nolan growled as he started fastening the seatbelt around his waist while leaning back on the jump seat in the Black Hawk. Locke frowned at him, and then rose.

  "Oh, it's over alright," spoke Locke, and as Nolan quickly looked up, he saw Locke's Beretta pointed at his forehead. His last thought before the round entered his head was that he had underestimated Locke. "Kick the body out the door, Cobb," finished Locke.

  *****

  Fridaddy was pulling his hair out. The complex was overcrowded, and all of his people were engaged in crowd control. He had managed to find someone who knew juggling, and the guy was keeping most of the kids occupied with various feats, but people were starting to get rowdy and that was irritating. They had already broken up over a dozen fights over bullshit and he was already worn out from explaining the obvious to ignorant people. If the governor says to stay in the complex until he gets back, then they stay because he has a good reason for it.

  Earlier they'd heard the sirens going off, and one of his men had run inside to tell him the missile silos were sticking up again and blowing smoke. Fridaddy wondered briefly if they were being attacked again, before the all clear was suddenly given. He would find out later what that was all about.

  "Fridaddy, I meant to ask you how everything was going in your new position, and if you had any concerns?" Fridaddy turned and saw Major Weston addressing him. They had met before but had barely spoken. As part of his new position, Master Sergeant Trask had introduced him to all the key figures in charge of Newaygo. They were all good men and women as far as Fridaddy was concerned, and he considered it a privilege to be in such a responsible position within their company. It sure beat the hell out of the burial or construction work parties.

  "It's going, Major, and typical for this kind of thing. I wish they would finish getting dinner ready. That will calm them down a bit. We're gonna play hell getting all these people back to their homes, too. It's already dark and we have too many people for them to sleep here."

  "I know, but we'll manage, especially with good people like you and your men helping." The major smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder. An older woman dressed in nurse’s garb was holding onto the major rather possessively, and Fridaddy fleetingly wondered about that before responding.

  "Well, at least the governor saw the need to boost my forces. It's enough for now, and we'll keep them under control." Fridaddy now had over thirty men and women as part of his deputy force, most of them current or former military police, and he needed every single one of them.

  "Good. Well, the second reason I stopped you was, have you seen Jean? Her kids just ran up to me with Jay's kids and they said she wasn't around."

  "No, I haven't," and a sinking feeling instantly hit the pit of Fridaddy's stomach. Some things you just knew, and he knew the boss's girl, Jean, was totally dedicated to her children, at least as much as she was to the governor’s. Something was wrong. Instantly he keyed his microphone and addressed all his men.

  "Attention teams. Have any of you seen Jean, the governor's lady friend?" A chorus of negatives reached him, and the sinking feeling he was experiencing settled into a lead ball.

  "Major! Where was her last position?" he spoke urgently to Major Weston, whose face was now pale, and his hand on Fridaddy's shoulder tightened as he replied.

  "The adult center on Quarterline, over an hour ago."

  "Units two and three, meet me by the main doors. The rest of you, work crowd control. We have a situation. Major, wear your communications headset, I'll be calling you shortly!" and Fridaddy took off, sprinting for the main entrance as he shoved people to either side, clearing his path.

  The good thing about having the Army as part of your team was that you received the good stuff in equipment and vehicles. The seven of them loaded up in two Humvees and, directed by Fridaddy, burned rubber heading out.

  *****

  Jean watched the man named Locke with wide, fright-filled eyes while praying that he continued to show some compassion, like earlier, and that he did not turn out as brutal as Nolan had been. The pilot was chewing Locke's butt for putting a hole in the side of his helicopter, but she could tell he actually approved of what had happened. Evidently, Nolan had not been well liked by anyone, and from the feel of the livid bruises on her face, neck, and upper body, she could tell why. She really hurt and it was hard to concentrate, let alone stay concious.

  Locke turned from the pilot, a grin on his face, and squatted between her legs. With her ankles and thighs tied to the supports there was nothing she could do, and she closed her eyes as her heart thudded within her chest. The helicopter's engine grew louder and it started to rise, rocking slightly, and Locke instantly grabbed her thigh to steady himself. She shrieked behind her gag and thrust herself backward as hard as she could to get away from him, fearing the worst.

  "Hey, hey, Jean, right? Calm down, Jean. We're not going to hurt you. You did good back there. Stayed quiet, followed directions, and we were able to get past that guard post without having to kill them. See! You saved at least four lives tonight. We are just going for a little ride is all. Nothing to worry about.”

  Cold air was streaming in through the open door of the helicopter and Jean started shivering as she tried to speak. Locke instantly saw the problem and spoke to his partner, who slid the door closed, then Locke drew a long knife; as Jean closed her eyes again in fright, she felt the ropes tying her upper arms to the seat behind her being cut, then a heavy coat wrapped around her. Timidly she opened her eyes again and watched as Locke reached up slowly to pull her gag loose.

  "There, is that better?"

  "Why did you take me? Why did you kill my guards?" It had taken Jean a few seconds to moisten her mouth enough to talk. She was still scared, but within her a feint vein of hope remained because of the actions of this man, this killer with a conscience.

  "Well, we had orders. I'm not sure why, honestly. You're considered a very important asset to our command. Maybe you can tell us why? Or, maybe we shouldn't know," he smiled at her.

  "Who is your command?"

  "Well, that's debatable, but the ones we report to are Dr. Lynch and an asshole named Don. Know them?"

  "Yes," she hissed, knowing now what this was a
ll about. Don just could not let her go, and that damn Dr. Lynch wanted a gene sample from her. Oh, hell. "Look, you have to let me go. If Don gets ahold of me, he'll kill me."

  "I can't, Jean. I have a wife and three boys at the base in Vermont where Dr. Lynch is." He looked at her sympathetically and her heart sank further as all hope finally left.

  Then the helicopter dipped and suddenly they were rushing towards the ground and Locke was shouting over his headset. Then the pilots voice came over internal speakers and it was obvious he was talking to someone else.

  *****

  DAY 12: 1845 ET TUESDAY NOVEMBER 15TH

  We made quite the procession traveling down Apple Avenue as we left Muskegon, and my command Stryker was currently in the lead. Our column was almost two miles long as I watched through the remote eye of the drone my LSS was still controlling. She had mentioned it had a four hour flight time, but would need to head back to Newaygo soon. Although it was dark now, the shine of our combined headlights allowed me to identify everything from Strykers to the ATVs, and those wood-grinding things that had given me quite an idea. We were currently moving east at roughly thirty miles per hour, which was the fastest speed our slowest vehicle could move, but I was happy. We had saved everyone from the rehabilitation clinic and Doc said they were doing well, including those they’d had to tranquilize. Life sucked often was another of my mottos.

  It had taken us a full hour to get out of Muskegon, and I had agreed to meet Major Robinson exactly a half mile past the city limits, or when the zombies thinned out. One of the Strykers’ crew was operating the M2 up top, blasting away at the occasional groups, and I let him have at it. Watching us was almost as fun, and my LSS was breathing close to my ear, her presence warm beside me. It had been quite the adventure, for sure, and I was anxious to meet our air wing saviors. There! I saw several Black Hawks sitting in the middle of the highway ahead with their lights on, and what looked like a few dozen armed guards arrayed around them in a tight security cordon. We pulled up and I got out, walking towards the short figure with the gold oak leaves pinned to his collars.