“Hey Gwen,” Mauser called over to her, “will you give me a hand?” He stood awkwardly, hopping on one foot. He had a single crutch in one hand and pressed it into an emergency escape exit. He looked pathetic, and it brought a fraction of a smile to her face.
She rose, striding over to where he stood lopsided on one leg.
“Hold on,” she chided. She gave him a dirty look and took the crutch from his hand. Slamming it upwards, she released the hatch.
“Thanks,” he grinned. He hopped on one foot and grabbed the sides of the hatch, pulling himself through. She looked up at the bright sky above. It was quickly overcome by Mauser’s grinning face. “Here,” he said and offered her a hand. She jumped and he pulled her onto the roof of the mover. Mauser sat and leaned back, showing his lean horseshoed triceps. He looked like he belonged on a beach, catching a wave, not trying to survive the zombie apocalypse.
With the city behind them smoldering in the distance, they looked out over a sea of fading green and yellow trees. Houses dotted the hilly landscape. It was almost like the infection hadn’t touched here. She removed her long-sleeved shirt, exposing skin, not covered by her tank top. The sun beat down, warming her up in the fresh way the sun does. A helicopter chopped past their position, flying high. Maybe help was on its way.
“Little help, Mauser?” sounded out from below. In alarm, Mauser crawled to the hatch, gripping his sidearm. He looked back at Gwen with a smile and put his hand down the exit. Joseph struggled onto the roof. Adjusting his glasses, he shaded his eyes.
“I didn’t know where you two went. One minute you were there, the next you were gone,” he said sheepishly.
“Sorry, Joseph. Just trying to enjoy a brief moment of solitude,” Gwen said. He nodded.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You are always welcome,” she said. More hands reached through the hatch and Kevin pulled himself up. He dropped down beside her.
“Hold on,” he said to her. Kevin leaned back down and helped Eddie up too. Eddie sat cross-legged and smiled at the sun like it was an old friend.
“It’s nice to have some sun,” he said, looking out over the trees.
Kevin nodded, not saying anything. Pulling out a silver flask, he took a long swig. Capping the top of the flask, he put it in his pocket.
“Ahem,” Gwen said. She looked at him expectantly. Kevin snorted a laugh.
“I didn’t know you liked rye whiskey?” he said.
“You never asked,” she said, snatching the flask out of his hand and taking a long swig. The whiskey burned down her throat. She wiped her mouth and offered it to Joseph, who looked at the flask dumbly.
Mauser nudged his shoulder. “Come on, Doc. Drink up and pass it.” Joseph looked around and took a timid sip. Everyone laughed.
“Come on. Drink it,” Eddie laughed.
“Don’t be so uptight. Have a little fun,” Gwen said.
“Yeah, YOLO,” Kevin chimed in.
“YOLO?” Mauser said, brow furrowing. Gwen turned to Kevin, a bit confused.
“You Only Live Once. It’s something that my high school students always used to say,” Kevin said with a quirky smile. They laughed together for a minute until a gunshot thundered from below, reminding them of the reality that they now lived in.
STEELE
Monongahela River, Pittsburgh, PA
“You can’t turn it off?” Steele said hurriedly.
“Not any more than you can turn off a Filipino hooker,” Barnes laughed.
“You aren’t worried about this?” Steele said. Barnes’s smirk was really getting under his skin. Steele looked back at the beams in the center of the bridge. “We could toss it in the river.”
Barnes bent down to his pack and began winding a rope around his arm. “I wouldn’t have sent you up here without an escape plan. Grab that harness.” Barnes tossed him the end of a rope. Steele looped a rappel rope through his harness, securing a knot. Barnes tied the rope around a steel beam and then secured his own knot.
“Don’t take all day. We only got ten minutes and we have to get clearance,” Barnes said.
Steele didn’t need any more goading than that to get off the bridge. This had been a nightmare, and if destroying all of the bridges was like the first bridge he doubted they would live to see mission complete.
He tested his rope. It complained beneath the strain. Climbing down the bridge was about as daunting as climbing up. The river below had a steady flow of brown water. Water lapped around the huge stone pillars that held the bridge upright. The river was intoxicating in the distance.
Barnes stepped up next to him. “You don’t like heights, huh?” he said.
At the mention of heights Steele could feel himself break out in a cold sweat. “Didn’t like climbing up, won’t like climbing down.” For a second he contemplated the pros and cons of climbing down versus staying put. He tried to shake the thought from his head.
“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Steele said. He pulled himself up onto the rail, bending his knees. The worst part before the start was the waiting, the anticipation, the fear of the fall.
Barnes waddled up next to him. “You’ll be fine, kiddo,” he said. He reached over as if to give Steele a comforting pat on the shoulder, but instead he shoved Steele in the chest and over the railing.
Steele free-fell and the rope zipped through his carabiner until he caught himself with his off-hand. His shoulder banged off the wall with a smack, and he hung for a moment, rope twisting and untwisting. His heart beat a techno bass line. Jesus. He hated this shit.
Barnes flexed his knees as he bounded laterally next to Steele with ease. The extra weight on his face jiggled as he laughed. “Sometimes you just need to stop thinking about it and take a leap of faith. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Steele spun himself, steadying himself with a hand on the pillar until he was parallel with Barnes. “The worst that could happen? I could have broken my neck,” he stammered.
Barnes laughed at him again. “That’s only if you fall. Give yourself a little credit. You free-climbed up here. Way scarier than rappelling down. Come on. We’re wasting clock,” he said.
“Fuck you, Barnes,” Steele said. He bounced along the bridge pillar in seven-foot-wide springs, making his way down the large cut-stone blocks. He tried to keep his mind focused on equally balanced jumps until he heard the thud-thud-thud of a helicopter.
“You hear that, Barnes?” Steele shouted down as Barnes did his last jump into the boat. Barnes nodded helping him into the inflatable.
“What took you so long?” Ahmed demanded.
Steele pointed a finger at Barnes as he undid his harness. “He’s slower than he looks.”
Barnes rolled his eyes and prepped the motor.
“Do you think someone sent some help?” Steele asked.
Barnes snorted a laugh. “Boy, we work for the same government. Besides, it ain’t gonna matter if we don’t get moving,” he said.
One thing Steele had learned from his training was when the guy who makes things “go boom” says you gotta go, you gotta go. Steele knelt in the boat, and Barnes gunned it for the next bridge. The inflatable glided over the water, the front of the raft bouncing up and down. Steele kept expecting to hear the explosion. Water sprayed out as the boat skimmed its dark brown surface. Please don’t hit any bodies.
More debris downriver slowed them down. Barnes dodged the bodies crossing the river in a Z, trying to go fast while not using the propellers as a meat grinder. The swoosh of rotor blades caught up to the escaping men. One buzzed by very close.
“Definitely military,” Barnes yelled.
“Or some very well-armed civilians,” Steele continued.
“I don’t like the looks of them,” Barnes muttered.
Steele thought, Some air support, hell, any support would be appreciated. If they aren’t here to help, why are they here?
“Let’s try and steer clear of those gu
ys,” Steele said.
“I agree. We gotta risk going straight for the next bridge. I want to be out of their line of sight,” Barnes said with urgency. He beelined the boat for the next bridge which was not more than five hundred yards away.
“If it comes to a fight, how do you want to deal with them?” Steele asked, cradling his carbine close.
Barnes continued looking forward. “We don’t. We hide and wait for them to pass,” he said. “We don’t have any ground to air missile systems. Unless you think you can pick them off with that carbine, while we boat and they fly. No big deal.”
“Not a high-percentage shot,” Steele retorted with.
“True.”
Ahmed pointed to the west. “There’s another one,” he shouted. Steele strained his neck. A black object lifted over the opposite side of green Mount Washington. It straightened out and flew low down the river, right for them.
KINNICK
Airborne over Pittsburgh
The chopper descended downward, cutting through the air like a bird of prey. Kinnick’s gut dropped along with the rest of his chili mac MRE. They bore down on the small inflatable boat as it raced across the river. The watercraft dipped beneath a bridge and the pilot was forced to pull up hard so as to not get the helicopter caught in the bridge trusses.
“Looks like he’s out for a joyride,” Sergeant Lewis joked.
Kinnick caught his stomach rising in this chest. Goddamn pilot. Can’t show any discomfort in front of the men. I’ll never hear the end of it being from the Air Force. He tried to look below, using his mind to keep his stomach in check.
“Where did they go?” he asked, peering out the door.
“Dunno, can’t see them,” Master Sergeant Hunter yelled. “Lewis, you got anything?”
“Nothing over here, boss,” Sergeant Lewis replied.
Kinnick had the pilot circle the city center to see if they could find the raft again. They made two passes and no boat could be located.
“Crockett is reporting a convoy of trucks traveling northwest of here,” the pilot said.
Those could be our missing battalions. The boat below lacked substance now. “Alright, take us over to Crockett,” Kinnick said.
An explosion rocked the helicopter sharply to the left. Sensors blinked dangerously, sending shrill warning bells off in the cockpit. The helo spun in the air as the pilot brought it back under his control.
“Whoaa,” the pilot shouted. Master Sergeant Hunter gripped a handhold nonchalantly as if the helo hadn’t just threatened to crash and burn.
A thick cloud of black smoke billowed forth from the center of the bridge. Concrete, steel, and cars plunged from the middle of the bridge into the river.
“Felt like someone just took out the bridge with a JDAM,” Master Sergeant Hunter shouted. Kinnick shook his head. JDAM was an acronym for a Joint Direct Attack Munition, a conventional bomb that was guided by a laser. They were commonly used in the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars, which Kinnick assumed Hunter had taken a very active part in.
“When’d you serve?” Kinnick shouted. “Afghanistan in 2003, Iraq in 2005, 2006 and 2007, and back in Afghanistan in 2009,” Hunter said. Kinnick digested the man’s words. Five tours of duty. Not the most, but more than most. A man dedicated to his country. War was his trade, of that Kinnick had no doubt.
“You think you would ever see anything like this happening here?” he said. Master Sergeant Hunter’s beard moved up and down as he chewed on his mustache. “Sir, nothing surprises me. Did I think the world was going to succumb to a virus that killed people and turned them into walking corpses? No. But I know this. It’s not if, it’s when, and when the time comes, I draw the sword and throw away the scabbard,” he said.
When you go to war, go all in because half-measures are dead measures.
“I never in a million years could have imagined such devastation here in the U.S.,” Kinnick said.
Master Sergeant Hunter watched the city below, thinking. “That’s why we weren’t ready.”
Kinnick frowned at his words, but held his tongue. Who could have predicted this? How would we have prepared?
Now they had to play by Master Sergeant Hunter’s rules. The only way to win this fight was to fight like there was no tomorrow. Kinnick only had a moment to comprehend the man’s thoughts before the bird dipped low again, sending his MRE up to the roof of his mouth. He would never eat the damn chili mac again. He looked over at Lewis, hanging off the side of the chopper. How does he do it? It had to have been worse than his hotdog based, “three fingers of death.”
The middle of the bridge was sinking deeper into the water. Cars teetered on the brink of the wide smoldering precipice. The middle of the bridge had split as if a giant had taken a pair of gardening sheers to the bridge. Displaced water flowed around large chunks of concrete that had fallen into the river.
What in the hell did that?
Master Sergeant Hunter’s eyes echoed what he was thinking. “That looks like some serious military grade explosives,” he said.
“It sure does, doesn’t it,” Kinnick said. To what purpose? “Why do you think they blew that bridge?” he asked his master sergeant.
“Off-hand, I would say they are trying to keep somebody out. Limit access and logistical support,” Master Sergeant Hunter said over the whirl of chopper blades.
“Or keep somebody in,” Kinnick replied. This would need to be investigated further, but not today. Another series of bells went off in the cockpit. Jesus, what now?
The pilot called back, “We are low on fuel. Should we head up to Corapolis?” he said.
Kinnick hadn’t realized they had been in the air that long. “Let’s give that convoy a buzz on the way. Advise Crockett to rally at the airfield.”
STEELE
Monongahela River, Pittsburgh, PA
The cool breeze whipped off the river, as if the wind were using the water to propel itself. It cut through Steele’s clothes like the tip of a dagger. The weather had soaked the men through to their bones. Barnes sat in the back. His hand twisted the throttle on the single-handle motor and the craft edged ahead.
They drifted to the last bridge in Pittsburgh. Three weary men in a little craft had destroyed over a century of modern infrastructure. Three days of extreme exertion. Only one more bridge stood strong and proud in their path. Operation Anaconda would be complete with its destruction. Pittsburgh would be cut off from the rest of the nation, at least from an accessibility standpoint. The dead would have a more difficult time circumventing the city. How much time have we bought? A month? Two weeks? A few days? He pushed the thought from his mind and hoped to God it would be enough.
Rusted brown girders rounded over the river almost as if the bridge steel was doing a wave. A bridge that stood as a testament to an industrial era long gone. Now, all that stood was a single rusted structure, a relic of a forgotten age.
“What happened?” Steele said, his voice tight. Something was wrong with the bridge. He pointed at wreckage near one of the support pillars of the bridge.
“Do you think someone already blew the bridge?” Ahmed called out. He half-laid, half-sat on the prow of the small craft.
“One of the helicopters?” Steele offered.
Barnes studied the bridge from afar with an air of skepticism. “I doubt it, boys. That would be too perfect, and nothing is ever that perfect.” He revved the engine, dodging around debris in the river.
As they got closer, Steele gripped his carbine harder. A faded red tugboat had run aground while pushing a long barge of coal, wrapping both around a support pillar near the shore.
Barnes slowed them down. The bow of the boat responded and sat higher in the water. “Will you look at that,” he said.
Steele stared at the dead climbing all over the tug. “Look there. She’s been collecting dead like a strainer from the river.”
“And there. Infected from the land are already onboard,” Ahmed said.
“You boys ain’t go
nna like this,” Barnes started.
“I already don’t like it,” Steele said.
“You and me both, but I’m going to have to board the tug and extradite it before we can attach the charges to the pillar,” Barnes said.
“We can handle it,” Steele said. Ahmed nodded in affirmation.
“Not today, lads. This is a one-man mission.”
“Sorry, Barnes. Can’t let you do that,” Steele said.
Ahmed looked up, shaking his head at Barnes. “Nope. You are a bigoted asshole, but you can’t go on that boat by yourself.”
Barnes stood, stretching his back. He bent his arms behind his body. His body clicked and popped as his older joints accommodated his stretch. “Boys, boys. I’m feeling a bit lucky today. You know. Like God’s watching over me. Finish this up and then we can meet back up with the colonel.”
I can’t let this man fend for himself out there. “I’m going with you, Barnes,” Steele said.
“Steele. Steele. Steele. Good strong name, kid, but this is a party of one. I need someone to overwatch from the boat. Think Navy SEAL vs. Somali pirates. You dig?”
“Look at all of them. You won’t make it ten feet.”
“Sure I will. Have faith, young apprentice.” Barnes strapped on his gear.
“Let’s thin them out, first.” Steele took aim with his M4 carbine. Barnes put a hand on Steele’s shoulder. The veteran ordnance specialist appeared somber and serious.
“It will only draw more in, but I have a plan for you and Ahmedy. Just get me alongside of her.”
They switched places and Steele drove the inflatable in the direction of the transport boat. They drifted close. The coal barge bobbed up and down, rocking in the water. Barnes reached up to grab onto the side of the tugboat, both boats swaying in time with the waves.
“Get all those bastards down to the other end,” Barnes grunted over his shoulder. The soldier hauled his tactical girth up and over the side of the boat. Steele powered the engine around to the side of the long coal barge.
The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 63
