Even Zombie Killers Need a Break zk-2

by John F. Holmes

  I gave them the quick lowdown on the terminal. The loading docks were all secure, buildings looked good, but we were unable to determine if the cranes worked without power, as we had said in our initial briefing.

  “Lost Boys, this is Rapier Six. What do you mean you can’t determine if they work, over?” He sounded pissed.

  “I mean without a massive generator to tie into the power infrastructure, there is no way to determine. They look functional, over.”

  Captain Reynolds came back online.

  “Lost Boys, what is your tactical situation, over?”

  “Rapier, we are secure at this time. When can we expect exfill, over?”

  “Twenty- four to thirty-six hours, unless your situation deteriorates. QRF is tied up in Philadelphia, over.”

  Great. Would have been nice if they could have come and get us right away.

  “This is Lost Boys, twenty- four to thirty-six, out.”

  I gathered the team around. Killeen was up on the roof, pulling overwatch.

  “Well, here’s the deal. The Marines can’t get here for a day, day and half. If we sit tight, nice and quiet, there shouldn’t be much of a problem. Nearest residential area is more than half mile away and I think our sniper teams have already cleared out the local Zulus.”

  “A lot less than usual.” observed Ahmed. “Something doesn’t seem right. This was a heavily populated area. The number of wanderers alone should be in the hundreds.”

  Doc chimed in. “I remember the evacuation out of the City didn’t cover Staten Island, since the Goethals Bridge had become jam-packed with crashed vehicles on day one of the plague. Place was a madhouse. Boats running out, gunfights, riots. Army just basically wrote it off after day three.”

  “Well, regardless, it seems quiet here. We’ve hunted the whole compound out, killed maybe another six Zulus outside the gate. Doc, how is Desen doing?”

  “Seems OK so far, but he needs proper medical attention. I’ve splinted the leg and given him antibiotics and painkillers, but the longer he doesn’t get it set properly, the bigger the chance of infection and improper healing.”

  “Keep an eye on him. Position improvement, overwatch from the roof. Soon as it’s dark, sleep rotation. I’ve got a weird feeling, but hopefully by this time tomorrow we’ll be turning this place over to the jarheads.”

  Killeens’ voice crackled over the radio. “Sarge, we got movement, human heat sources, vehicle noises and engine heat. Two vehicles, no, three. Stopped about three hundred meters back. Looks like scouts moving up either side of the street. I count two scouts and eleven in the main body. One vehicle mounted weapon.” I could barely understand him between the southern drawl and the dip in his mouth.

  “I copy, be there in a second.”

  Everyone had heard the transmission and started scrambling to fighting positions inside the building. I headed up to the roof, followed by Ahmed. Along the way, I told Red to be ready to go out and do a meet and greet, bring Ziv as a body guard. We had done this before, encountered survivors, and it could go three ways. One, they welcomed us with open arms and wanted our help. Two, they were indifferent and went their own way. Three, well, three was to be avoided at all costs.

  Chapter 16

  At my signal, Doc launched a flare from his 203. It burst into light directly over the main body of intruders, and they immediately went to ground behind wrecked cars. It slowly drifted down and burned out as it lay on the pavement.

  When it was out, Redshirt crept forward, followed by Ziv. Now the hard part. They knew we were here, next move was up to them. We waited a few minutes, but they did nothing.

  Red stood up and yelled out “UNITED STATES ARMY!” at the top of his lungs. The response was a shot from one of the scouts. Red grabbed his chest just as Ziv tackled him, and they both fell to the ground as the machine gun on the vehicle opened up, along with scattered rifle shots.

  Rounds started skipping across the pavement where they had fallen, and Ziv picked Red up in a fireman’s carry, dashing back to the cover of some cars. Killeen and Ahmed started firing, trying to take out the machine gunner. The vehicle accelerated forward, and the front of the building was shattered by dozens of rounds.

  Doc placed a high explosive round directly onto the cab of the truck, and it exploded with a muted crump. Flames burst out of the engine compartment, and the truck swerved, crashed through a storefront.

  Shots started coming at us on the roof, aimed at the muzzle flashes of the sniper rifles. Dust flew from the wall in front of us as several zipped past, making flat, cracking noises. I fired back a long burst, hitting one of the scouts who had risen to fire at Ziv. Beside me, Killeen grunted and fell back.

  “Nick, they are pulling back!” yelled Ahmed. We fired a few more shots at them, but I could see them running down the street, leaving a half dozen bodies and the burning pickup truck. I called for a cease fire over the radio. No need to waste ammo and there was going to be a shitload of zombies attracted to the noise of that firefight.

  “Check on Killeen!” I yelled as I raced down the stairs, then scrambled down the ladder to the first floor.

  I waved at Brit to follow and told to Doc to go check out Killeen. We headed out the door toward where Ziv was carrying Red back to the building and helped put him down on the ground.

  Brit ripped open his body armor and started feeling for blood. “Ow, dammit, that hurts,” grunted Red. She shone a flashlight onto his chest where a big purple bruise was spreading. A red mark showed where the ceramic front plate had been driven into his skin.

  Brit kissed him on the cheek and yelled in his ear “Suck it up, you puss!”

  “Ziv, Brit, get him inside.” I started to run back, but Docs’ voice came over the radio.

  “Nick, Killeen is dead.”

  Chapter 17

  “Roger, understood. You want us to reconnoiter the approaches to the Verrazano Bridge, see if it is serviceable, Lost Boys out.”

  “Well now, ain’t that just a bullshit mission.” Brit said through a mouthful of #12 MRE, Penne pasta with vegetarian sauce.

  Ziv stared at her. “How can you eat that crap? It tastes like cardboard.”

  “You should see what it tastes like when I poop it out. Same consistency, too.”

  “Maybe someday I will.”

  “Over my dead body, Troll.” He did kind of resemble one as he sat there grinning with his bad European dental work and massive shoulders.

  Doc laughed. “I think you’ve met your match, Brit.” Then he noticed the black bag with Killeens’ body in it. He sat for a moment watching Red digging a grave for him over by the fence, then got up to go back inside and check on the two unknown intruders whom we had found still breathing. One was barely alive and the other was babbling in a fever. We had no medicines for them. Or, more like none I wanted to spare for them.

  “Obviously we aren’t going to walk there. It’s a few miles. We can take Highway 278 across the island, but I’m afraid that even if we can get there, getting back again will be a problem. We’ve got the gangbangers to worry about, and whatever Zulus get stirred up and traffic jams.”

  We had patrolled down the road about a quarter mile, checking out the buildings and looking for any hidden observers left behind by the intruders last night. The road got progressively more jammed as you got out to the highway, and I was sure the eastern ramps to the Goethel’s Bridge over to Jersey would be a massive cluster.

  “So, we have a mission from higher which can be done by us, take a day or so, and likely get the team wiped out. Plus we will have to leave two people behind with Desen. Doc and Red, probably, so that leaves me, Brit, and Ziv to recon through 12 klicks of one of the most densely populated areas of the country.”

  “We’re good, but we ain’t that good, Nick.” said Brit. “Ever read Band of Brothers? What Major Winters did when they wanted him to send out a useless patrol?”

  Ziv grunted, and said “Yes, he told his higher that he had done mission, but
not send patrol. We often do this in Serbian war when commanders are stupid.”

  “Wow, he can read, too!”

  Ziv laughed at her. “I am from foreign country, not stupid, Little Girl.”

  “Great, now you two kiss.” I held up my hand to Ziv as he looked at me with a shocked expression and said, “But she is your woman!” Brit made a gagging sound.

  “It’s just an expression. It means ‘let’s get on with what we were doing.’”

  “You Americans with your slang.”

  As far as Mid-Atlantic Command knew, we rolled out bright and early the next morning, made it as far as the interchange for I-278 and US 440, and had to turn back due to blocked roads. We actually used the time to clean our weapons and get some sleep. The last of the unknown shooters died just as the first Marine Osprey came thundering in and a squad rushed out the back.

  Doc packed up his aid bag and stripped off his gloves. Before he had slipped into unconsciousness, the man had bragged about being a Crip, how they ruled the island, motherfuckers were going to pay, yadda, yadda.

  I had seen it before. Gangs were often the only organized, well-enough armed and ruthless enough group to cope with the zombie outbreaks in an urban environment. They took what they needed to survive, from whoever had it. They often kept slaves and we had been seeing more and more of them turn cannibal as food got scarce. We negotiated with them when they were stronger than us, until we came back with more firepower. Sometimes they actually welcomed us.

  Either way, it was the Marines’ problem now. I met their company commander as he walked across the container yard.

  “Nick, I relieve you!”

  “I stand relieved, Bob.” Another one of my buddies from our vacation in Bermuda.

  “Looks like you had some trouble. Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, Team Four was getting hammered in Philly.”

  “We handled it. Local gang bangers running the show here on the Island. Looks like they had done a pretty good job of cleaning out the zombie problem, but I bet they will come back here with more firepower than that probe last night.”

  “We can handle it. I’ve got a reinforced Rifle Company. We are going to hunt this place clean over the next month, zombies and scumbags alike.”

  “Yeah, well there might be some regular civilians holding out, too. Seen it all before.”

  “Agreed. Heard you lost a man. Sorry about that.”

  I nodded, and then we both turned towards the dock area. A beautiful sight waited for us. A giant Roll On /Roll Off cargo ship was pulling up to the pier, pushed by a tug. Beyond it stood the knife-edge silhouette of the Reuben James.

  “My company is going to hunt Staten Island. That ship contains the entire vehicle compliment of the 1st Brigade, 1st Armored Division. They are going to roll hot right over the Verrazano Bridge and shoot the shit out of Brooklyn, all the way to Floyd Bennet Field. Rangers will be dropping in next week to secure the airport, and the Old Ironsides tanks and Brads are going to roll up the Belt Parkway. Welcome to Forward Operating Base Killeen, Nick!”

  I wanted to cry. I really did. My mind flashed back to the zombie hordes overrunning our position in the weeks of the plague, the madness of trying to survive alone those first months. I watched at the Marines set up a temporary flag pole and saluted as Old Glory was run up.

  Brit came up to me as I stood there, watching them lower the ramp off the ship.

  “Nick, check it out! New orders. WE’RE GOING BACK TO CIVILIZATION! HOORRRAAYYY!” She started dancing around me, chanting, “Clean sheets, bathtubs, clean sheets, bath tubs!” as I read the iPhone she handed me.

  FROM: CDR@TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

  TO: LOSTBOYS6@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL

  CC: LOSTBOYS5@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL; S3@ TFEMPIRE.MIDATLCOM.MIL; J3@JSOC,MIL; JFOPS@NAVY.MIDATLCOM.MIL

  SUBJ: TDY of JSOC-IRST1

  Nick, you and your team are being assigned temporary duty at Joint Forces Base Lewis-McChord as train-the-trainer instructors for Basic Training Cadre. Expect to be out of the field for 2 to 4 weeks. Bring your whole team, including attached elements. You can also be expected to be debriefed by the people at the Center for Army Lessons Learned.

  Orders will be waiting for you at Fort Orange in Albany, then C-17 back to SeaTac. Try not to burn down the entire city of Seattle.

  Major John Flynn

  Acting Commander

  Task Force Empire Shield

  PART II

  Chapter 18

  The interior of the C-17 Globemaster was packed to the limit, filled with reclaimed electronics, car parts, gold bars, all the loot of the modern world to keep the light of civilization burning. Reclamation teams followed the path of the Army, disassembling cars, recovering precious metals, siphoning gasoline. It was shipped to depots and sorted. The jewelry was melted down into ingots for easy transport, the gasoline and oil fed into fuel blivets.

  We sat on either side, our gear piled at our feet. Taking off, the pilot had performed a sharp, twisting climb to avoid random potshots, leaving my stomach somewhere behind. I tried to sleep, but I was drawn to the small window as we chased the setting sun.

  Below me, the flat plains of the Midwest stretched out. The great rivers, the Ohio, the Mississippi, the Missouri had all broken their banks and flooded great stretches of the countryside. Here and there in the darkness below gleamed one or two spreads of lights, fortress towns that somehow survived. Ship lights gleamed on the Great Lakes, moving to Buffalo from the railheads in Green Bay, carrying supplies and troops to New York. I remembered how it all looked, the great spread of lights where Chicago, Detroit, St. Louis had all been. Now they lay faintly shimmering in the moonlight, reflections of the billion shards of broken glass that lay like sand on the beach.

  We approached the Columbia Federal District, once known as Washington State, with the bulk of Mount Rainier shouldering its way above the clouds, and touched down in the light rain that always seemed to hang in the air. The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Welcome to SeaTac airport. There is a shuttle bus to JBLM at the USO desk. Please go through customs and declare all weapons. Thanks for flying Zombie Air!” Very frigging funny.

  I lifted my Alice pack onto my back, picked up my duffle, followed the rest of the guys down the ramp and into the closest building, where an Airman stood with a clipboard. He took a copy of each of our orders and ran our CAC cards through a reader.

  “I see you guys are coming from the Wild Wild East. When was the last time any of you were here?”

  “Doc and Jonesy, I mean, Doc and I were here last year. I’m pretty sure SPC Redshirt was here pretty recently.”

  “I was just here for Basic Training, never saw anything outside the base,” said Redshirt.

  “OK, well, then you have to understand some things have changed. You are going to have to wait two days in quarantine and all personal weapons have to be left here to be reclaimed when you fly back out.”

  “What the hell? Since when?” I went everywhere armed. We all did.

  “Well, bad riots last year in response to the government-forced resettlement plan. Under the federal emergency mandate, personal firearms and weapons are not allowed in the Columbia Federal District unless you are part of a law enforcement agency. In addition, all personnel arriving from areas not under federal control must remain in quarantine for prevention of spreading reanimation virus.”

  He sounded like he was reading from a bad movie script and looked bored as hell. We were tired and suffering from jet lag so none of us argued with him about it. Just grumbled and bitched as we started pulling guns, knives, grenades and various bludgeons from holsters and pockets. The more stuff we dropped in the amnesty box, the bigger his eyes got. When we finally finished, the box was filled to the top.

  “You know,” one of the two Military Policemen standing there said, looking at all the hardware we carried, “you all think you’re so badass rolling in here with all this. How freaking bad can it be out there? I think you’
re all so full of shit it isn’t even funny.”

  I ignored them and kept dealing with the Air Force sergeant. He was about to lock the box and hand me the key and a hand receipt listing all the items when I heard a commotion behind me.

  “Oh shit, she’s turning!” yelled Doc, and he swung Brit, who twitched and spasmed, screeching and howling at the top of her lungs, toward the MPs, who reacted like a grenade had been thrown at them. Brit sank her teeth into the hand of the one who had called us full of shit, and he screamed like a little girl. His partner fumbled to load his pistol while the Air Force sergeant dove under the table, dropping his clipboard.

  The scene was absolute chaos for a second, until Brit abruptly stood up and started laughing.

  “Who’s full of shit now, you pogues?”

  “You freaking bit me!!”

  “Didn’t even break the skin. Wimp.”

  Ziv had stepped in front of the other MP, who had finally managed to load a magazine in his pistol but hadn’t racked the slide. He stared him down, then sidled past and out the door. Brit passed them, laughing, and the rest of us filed out.

  Outside, Doc passed us each one of the weapons he had grabbed out of the lock box in the confusion. I took my .22 automatic and slipped into my coat pocket, feeling a lot better, and we boarded the shuttle bus to Joint Base Lewis-McChord.

  Chapter 19

  Brit put Game of Thrones back in the DVD player and hit play, then started chowing down on popcorn again.

  “How many times are you going to watch this?” Red, Doc, Ziv and I were playing spades, and Doc and I were losing, badly.

  “As many times as it takes. Gotta see my girl burn shit up with her dragons. Plus I got the hots for Captain Tightpants.”

  I threw a spade down on diamonds, but Red cut me with the Big Joker. That kid had all the luck, and he put it to good use.