Records of the Resistance (Book 1): Better Lucky than Good

by Shaun Meehan

  "If it get's my family back, just tell me what you need me to do." Kevin replied, his tone suddenly becoming serious.

  "Let's just get this done and get some food in us. Tomorrow is going to be a day for the record books." Clay said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Day 4, 32 Days Post Infection

  A row of cedar trees boxed in the entire apartment complex. Clay, Melanie and Kevin had all crawled along the exterior of the cedar row, in an attempt to reach the back door which was to serve as Kevin's entrance into the three-story walk up. Clay had been entirely confident in his plan to free the trapped families while reiterating its design to Kevin and Melanie as they had covertly made their approach towards the complex. Now, as the threesome lay prone in the cedars, Clay began to feel the weight of his promise to Kevin resting heavily on his shoulders. It wasn't a matter of self doubt or that he did not fully believe in their mission's chances of success. But a weight which is felt by any leader of quality. If their strategy failed, then everyone participating in the rescue could very well lose their lives. Clay was the man who was leading the operation and had inadvertently become responsible for all those enacting it.

  The first barrier between the three and their success, was getting in the back door. Clay needed to get Kevin inside to relay his instructions to the trapped individuals. Getting in the back door wasn't going to be as simple as walking up and opening it, as they could clearly see that the intel they had received from Kevin's wife had in fact been accurate. There were nine infected currently crowding the door. All were facing the building and there were no other infected within sight, allowing for Clay to position everyone along the cedar row accordingly.

  Clay turned his head towards Kevin who was to his immediate left and began speaking at a level that was just barely audible.

  "How confident are you that one of them did as I asked and unlocked the back door?" Clay asked.

  "Well... I sent the email, but we left before I got a response from them. I guess we're kind of screwed if it isn't. We're just going to have to hope that they got it." he replied to Clay.

  Kevin had a small shoulder bag tucked underneath of him, containing the three hand grenades which had been crafted by Clay, the day before. The plan hinged on so many untested or unverified factors, one of which were these grenades. Another was the entire rescue attempt which was only a few short moments away from unfolding, had been broken down into an email that Kevin had sent to his wife the day before. Kevin had to get inside and for him to do so, his wife had to receive his email and coordinate the survivors inside to prepare for their liberation.

  “Alright, Melanie... You're up." Clay whispered to his right.

  Melanie had found a small bag in the department store and had packed it with a few essentials that the group might require during the rescue attempt. She now laid prone, using the bag as an improvised rifle rest. The group had left almost everything else back at the department store, with the exception of anything that may assist them in accomplishing their task. She had several jobs assigned to her for the duration of the operation and she was about to embark on the first.

  "I'm ready..." she whispered, as she peered through the rifle scope.

  Having a rest for her rifle made it much easier to maintain the position of the weapon's optics on target. Her elbows dug into the soft earth blanketing the base of cedar row. Despite the spongy ground, her elbows had begun to ache; the fact making her grateful that they had not been laying on the rough asphalt in front of them.

  "Alright. Just remember you two... If things go south here, your jobs are to watch the corners of the building and kill any infected that approach, while I take care of these ones... Whenever you're ready Mel... We're on your time." Clay said, issuing his final instructions and initiating phase one of the operation.

  Melanie began to purposefully take control of her breathing. The magazine of her little rifle held ten rounds and their were nine infected standing in the way of their objective. Should she have to reload, the likelihood of the group being detected would increase drastically. It would be imperative that she did not miss. They had been as still as they could possibly be for well over an hour now and she had come to realize that the greatest motivator towards success was the sole thought of finally being able to stand upright once again.

  She began to squeeze the rifle's trigger, the crosshairs magnetized to the back of a head belonging to the infected furthest to the right.

  SHUCK!

  The infected buckled and it toppled to the ground. The three laid perfectly still with waited breath in nervous anticipation of any sort of reaction from the remaining undead.

  Clay, Melanie and Kevin held their breath for what felt like an eternity before all letting out a sigh of relief in almost perfect unison. Melanie's attack had gone unnoticed by the other undead.

  It had begun. Melanie's courage was bolstered by the dispatching of the first infected. The newly acquired confidence in her abilities served to spur her on further.

  The rifle seemed to fire by its own accord. Melanie's crash course in combat against the infected had done exactly what Clay had hoped it would. She would either sink or swim and Melanie was performing like an olympic athlete. With every squeeze of the trigger, another infected would crumple to the ground before the empty casing that had been ejected from the rifle settled on the earth.

  Only four infected remained, beating on the door with their fists; the piling up of undead around them going unacknowledged. Melanie relocated her crosshairs onto the skull of another. The rifle's action cycled yet again and her target dropped to the ground, knocking the infected beside it to the asphalt. Upon regaining it's footing, the infected inadvertently turned its gaze on the three, who all made an attempt at remaining perfectly still. While the cedar boughs provided a degree of concealment from wandering eyes, any infected who might look directly at them would certainly make them out for what they actually were. Clay tightened his grip around his tomahawk and planted his palm hard into the ground; preparing to intercept the infected. He was only a moment away from springing into combat, when their threat's legs folded from under it while in mid stride. Neither Clay nor Kevin had fully grasped what had just transpired before they heard the rifle's action cycle again.

  SHUCK!

  Only a single infected now remained, aside from those who now formed a grotesque ring around its feet.

  Clay reached out his hand to Melanie, touching her arm and silently putting her convert assault on hold.

  “Kevin, are you ready?" Clay whispered.

  Kevin nodded and at that Clay slowly released his grip on Melanie's arm, signalling her to finish her task.

  SHUCK!

  The metal internals of Melanie's rifle sounded and the final target fell backwards to the ground. The threesome maintained their position for a moment, watching vigilantly for any infected who may have been drawn to the area by the group's activities. When no additional undead presented themselves, Clay nodded to Kevin, signalling to him that his time had now come. They would soon learn whether or not Kevin's email containing Clay's instructions had been received.

  Kevin pushed himself up off the ground and while maintaining a hunched over posture, hurried his way towards the back door that was now fringed with fallen infected. Kevin placed his forehead against the door, saying a quick and silent prayer that the party's message had been received by the building's occupants. After opening his eyes he twisted the brushed steel door knob.

  Clay and Mel watched from their concealed position as Kevin entered the building and closed the door behind himself. Phase one of their plan was now complete. Clay had instructed that Kevin would be given fifteen minutes before he would begin his assault on the cluster of infected blocking the apartment building's front door. It was time for the them to relocate to the front of the apartment, where their positions for the next stage of the operation would be.

  Clay nodded to Mel and the two wiggled backwards towards the outer perimeter o
f the cedar row. They maintained their prone posture as they began crawling along the tree line. Before having embarked on their final ninety-degree turn along the cedar row that followed along the front of the building, Clay grabbed Melanie's foot from his position behind her. She had been in front of him while they were in transit and this was not something that Clay had felt any semblance of comfort with. With Melanie having gone static, he continued forward until he was alongside her. After placing his mouth directly next to her ear, Clay began to issue his final instructions.

  "Do you remember what to do?" he asked her, as quietly as he could.

  Melanie nodded affirmative in response.

  "Good. We'll find a good spot to place you and when it starts, just do your thing." Clay concluded.

  Clay gave Melanie's forearm a reassuring squeeze and then took the lead. Through the trees, they could see brief glimpses of the size of the opposing force standing before them. As they continued to advance, Clay made a point of not acknowledging the daunting numbers of the horde before them, lest he rattle the nerves of Melanie. The people hiding inside the brick building needed her to do her job; Clay needed Melanie to do her job. They soon arrived at a small depression in the soil underneath one of the cedar trees. From this location, Melanie could provide excellent overwatch support and would likely not attract any unwanted attention by her movements while reloading the rifle. Clay looked back over his shoulder and indicated towards the depression with his fingers. Melanie nodded back in response, understanding that it would be from there that she would support Clay.

  The sound being generated by the horde was bone chilling. There was a mix of loud snarling and shrieking, fists banging on the door and nearby windows, and enough scuffling that the horde could have been easily mistaken for soldiers on the march. Clay could tell by the look on Melanie's face that she was uncertain about their chances of success. It was too late now to turn back and all Clay could do was offer her a smile, in hopes that it might impart even a small amount of confidence.

  Clay continued advancing along the cedar row, leaving Melanie behind. He intended to put a substantial gap between himself and Melanie. Should their plan suddenly take a turn for the worst, Clay would retain some chance of drawing the infected towards himself and allowing Melanie to make an escape. Before they had set off for the apartment, Clay had managed to speak with Melanie while Kevin had been occupied with gathering supplies. It was this very scenario that he had discussed with her. Clay had made it clear that should their efforts breakdown, Melanie was to abandon the assault and retreat back to the department store. Melanie on the other hand was insistent that she would do no such thing. Despite her protestations, Clay had made her promise to him that should their plan fail, she was to leave for safety immediately.

  Clay could see another depression in the ground on the other side of the cedar row. It was from there that he would initiate phase two. It would put him within range of the horde to shoot indirectly into the crowd with his shotgun, while maintaining a great enough distance for Mel to cover him while he reloaded. The depression was also easily accessible to Melanie, which was paramount as this would be her position during phase three. Clay slowly crawled through the cedar row, while maintaining visual contact with the horde. After getting into position Clay settled in for a moment. He had roughly calculated that it had taken five minutes for himself and Melanie to reach their places. Kevin had been instructed to be ready within fifteen minutes after gaining entrance into the building. This would prove to be the longest ten minutes of Clay's life thus far; laying prone less than twenty yards away from a horde of approximately eighty infected. He began to watch the balconies located on the second floor directly above the horde for any signs of movement. These were the positions that the occupants would take up during phase two of the attack. It would also be the signal declaring that the residents were ready to fight.

  The walls of the balconies were constructed of simple, painted sheet metal. However, there appeared to be a gap of two inches between the concrete floor that jutted out from the wall, and the bottom of the panelling. Clay stared at the space, awaiting any hint of movement. Time seemingly ground to a halt, as Clay's thoughts drifted back to Melanie. Concern for her current state of mind proved unavoidable. From his position Clay couldn't see Melanie directly, however he could pick out the tree which he had left her under.

  All the things that Melanie had wanted to experience or expected to accomplish in her life, were far removed from where she lay right now. During the initial outbreak, Melanie had no expectation that she would survive. She wasn't even capable of leaving her own apartment. Now, here she was. Concealing herself in a thin tree line, while participating in an attempt to rescue no less than twenty people from a three story apartment. The whole situation seemed too surreal for her to believe. Then again, she had been instrumental in completing the first phase of the operation and would continue to be integral throughout the remainder of its duration. Laying in the dirt, with a rifle trained on a man's head was so entirely out of the realm of her possibilities. Her character just seemed out of place in a situation such as this. That was, her character before she had met Clay. Who she was before meeting Clay had meant nothing to him. Who she would become on the other hand, was of the utmost importance to both his and Melanie's own survival. Although it seemed completely counter-intuitive that someone like her would be relied on so heavily by Clay, Melanie finally began to understand why he had begun to trust so much in her. It wasn't who she was, but who she could become. Survival and adaptation shared a symbiotic relationship; without one there was no other. To have one, was to posses the other.

  Melanie could see Clay from her location. She watched him as he looked towards the horde and then back towards her. She understood the message which he was attempting to convey.

  Clay could only hope that Melanie could see him, let alone understand that what they had come here to do was now at hand. He could see the toes of several pairs of shoes lining the edge of the balconies. Clay began going through the plan one last time in his head. Although, at this point, making any changes to it would be entirely impossible. If there were indeed any holes in it, he might at least be prepared for them should they occur. The possibilities were endless. Maybe the residents miscommunicated their current number of arms, or they could have little in the way of ammunition. Kevin had relayed to Clay that there were some elderly, as well as children among them who might fatally slow their egress from the building. The number of capable fighting men could have been over exaggerated by Kevin in hopes that by telling a seemingly small lie, Clay might be further persuaded to attempt a rescue. The most disturbing scenario that he came up with, without a doubt was Clay's own failure as a leader. His own plan may very well lead these people to their deaths. Clay let his imagination run wild for a moment before regaining his composure. He knew that allowing his own insecurities to interfere with his actions would certainly lead to failure.

  Clay raised his arm high into the air from his position within the depression. He held it there for a moment, allowing the rest of the group a chance to ready themselves. This was it... Clay knew that once the signal was given, he couldn't wait for their reaction, but only trust that they would carry out the plan which he had carefully laid out.

  Clay quietly reminded himself out loud, of his personal definition of leadership.

  "To show the way, by going in advance." he whispered.

  Clay whipped his arm down to his side, signalling that now the attack was to begin. He quickly postured up into a kneeling position and mounted his shotgun; levelling its bead with the heads of the infected to his front. Clay slapped the trigger of his shotgun with the pad of his index finger. The gun barked, releasing a hail of twenty-two caliber lead shot in the direction of the horde. Before he could cycle his own gun's action, those who had armed themselves stood up over the balcony and began firing down onto the tightly packed mass of undead. The initial volley alone had exceeded Clay's expectations.
The wide shot patterns thrown by the guns of the elevated shooters fell directly onto the heads of those belonging to the sea of infected. The horde began to jolt and vibrate almost in unison, the moment the munitions made contact. Clay could see that one of the integral designs of their assault had come to fruition. The infected had begun falling all over one another in their confusion. Some crumpled to the asphalt, becoming devoid of any life while others fell due to spinal injuries; still clinging to their vitality. The volume of shotgun fire had created a hailstorm of lead. The pandemonium that ensued amidst the horde had been a direct result of the planned pincer attack; leaving the infected indecisive about where to direct their attention. The horde began to break up, losing it's greatest strength; their overwhelming numbers.

  When a group of infected increased to a great enough size, they moved and attacked almost in unison, resembling a single massive organism. Clay loaded a round after each shot in an attempt to keep his magazine full should he need to tear down any advancing undead, while the elevated shooters on the balconies unloaded their weapons into the infected below them. Every individual who turned on Clay, dropped to the ground before he could bring the bead of his gun in line with their heads. Clay knew Melanie was in the fight.