by W. J. Lundy
Stephens nestled into a tight spot against the building and he rubbed his belly. “Damn, that enchilada MRE I was saving would be nice right about now.”
Jacob looked back at him and whispered, “I’d just like a bottle of that water in my bag.”
Tyree pulled a small bottle of water from his knapsack. He twisted off the cap and took a sip before passing the bottle on. Even though his mouth was dry, Jacob sipped sparingly at the precious liquid. He could have all the water he wanted once they reached the lake. His stomach growled; Murphy heard the noise and looked back at him, grinning.
“Me too, brother,” Murphy said.
Jacob sat pressed back against the building and listened to the sounds of battle coming from the city center. Like a violent thunderstorm, the air rumbled and cracked while the ground shook with the impacts of faraway bombs. The sky was now filled with smoke and the scent of burning wood and plastic hung heavy in the air. Helicopters flew back and forth over them as the sun broke the horizon.
Jacob closed his eyes and let the warm sun dry his skin. He was exhausted and knew that he might not get another chance to sleep. His mind raced, thinking about Laura and Katy. Where were they? And were they safe? Were they worried about him? Was he doing the right thing? Should he have gone south like the first sergeant warned him? He must have drifted off and the thoughts became just a small part of his nightmares until a hand squeezing his shoulder woke him.
He looked up into the sweaty, dirt-streaked face of Tyree. The young man held a finger to his lips. Jacob understood and looked across at Murphy who was now sitting with his knees up, his rifle rested across them, and his eyes to the rifle sights. Straining, Jacob could pick up the sounds of movement. The Others were close—and there were a lot of them. He could smell the burnt rubber and sulfur stench. And the sounds, they didn’t sound like crowds of moving people—like a parade, or a crowd in a mall—but more like the rush of flowing water caused by fabric swishing against itself and the gentle plodding of feet against the pavement.
They were still hidden behind the garage—Stephens and Tyree to his left, Murphy just to his right near the fence. In one smooth motion, Murphy rolled to his side and ducked next to Jacob into the concealment of the garage. Moving on his belly, he crawled closer to the men, and then leaned forward.
“The street is packed; they’re moving again,” Murphy said as he looked back at the fence. He placed his hand on one of the clapboard planks. It was loose and pulled back easily. “As long as they stick to the streets, we can cut through the yards. We’re close now.”
Stephens nodded and moved next to the fence. Together, Murphy and Stephens quietly slid their hands up the plank, patiently loosening it, one precise pull at a time. Removing planks and setting them aside, they continued the process on two more boards until they created a gap in the fence.
Murphy pointed to Stephens and signaled for him to move out. Stephens quietly unclipped his rifle from his harness and held it through the gap with one arm as he stealthily moved through. After a long minute, Stephens’ hand stuck back through the gap to flash thumbs up, then an open palm to wave them on; Tyree went next and then Jacob passed through the gap. Stephens shot Jacob a quick hand signal, positioning him to where he could cover the left. Crouched low and duck walking ahead, Murphy moved in behind him.
Tall multi-family homes filled the lot. A beige stucco building was to their front with windows broken all the way to the roofline, and the front door hung wide open. Murphy moved them through the carport and halted the group beside a row of green overflowing dumpsters. Sprawled out in the grass, only feet away, was the body of a woman, her jacket sleeve torn loose, and Jacob could see she held a small revolver in her hand.
He stared at the back of the woman’s head, imagining how she’d gotten there and sad that she had no one to retrieve her body. Looking beyond the dead woman, he saw several more bodies. A barrier stood at the end of the carport: an SUV loaded with belongings. The doors of the vehicle were open to reveal an empty car seat still strapped to the backbench. Removing the woman’s pistol and dropping it in a pocket, Stephens scouted ahead to the SUV and searched for water and food. After a cursory check, he looked back, held up empty hands, and then patrolled on, quickly covering the open terrain and pressing against the beige building.
Jacob ran next, covering the space in a few strides and forcing himself not to look at the woman as he ran past her. He fell in behind Stephens and pressed against the building. He and Stephens waited for the rest of them before the team formed back up and pushed ahead along the side of the building while still hiding in the shadows. They avoided views of the street, choosing instead to stay close to the structures and hidden from the windows.
They continued this movement of leapfrogging open spaces, hugging buildings, and resting in the shadows. They paused often to rest while hiding and scanning their surroundings. As they moved deeper into the residential lot, the sounds of the parading mass faded. Stephens led them between two tall stacked condominiums along a narrow sidewalk that led between the buildings and to another parking lot. Jacob slid next to Stephens with Tyree and Murphy at their backs. Looking around the corner, he could see a long, dark street laid out from left to right. Just to the front of them was a sheet metal-roofed carport that served as resident parking for the apartment buildings. Stephens hung at the corner to survey both directions before quickly traversing the gap. He crouched next to a car in a nearly empty covered-parking lot before waving Jacob on.
Jacob sprinted ahead and stopped next to the structure. Designed to keep the weather off the cars, it was nothing more than a roof and sheet metal walls that stopped a foot from the ground. With the solid cover, he was able to walk to the edge where Murphy called them. Looking out, Jacob could see they were now at the end of the city block. A gravel drive led away from the structure and into a wide two-lane street. At the end of the street was a wall barrier made of coiled wire and sandbags; military vehicles were parked in the grass and across the corner. The passageway itself was blocked at both ends. The scene of a final stand, weapons and equipment covered the street; bloody drag trails moved over the barriers and down the sidewalks, leaving remnants of clothing.
Beyond the barricade was a fortified corner lot occupied by a commercial bank building. A tattered military tent stood limply beside the bank amid more collapsed and tumbling sandbag structures. A fire truck was parked diagonally across the lot and all the windows in the truck’s cab were broken. Murphy slowly moved out of cover and approached the barricade with the team close behind. As he got closer, Jacob could see human bodies hanging in the wire. Beyond the roadblock, a soldier was dead on the ground with his rifle still tight in his hands. Stephens stopped next to the body and removed the rifle. He quickly checked the weapon’s action, then inserted a fresh magazine and exchanged the rifle for Tyree’s pistol. Jacob stood over the dead soldier, not speaking, then turned away to keep watch while Stephens and Murphy scavenged for equipment.
“It’s crazy; they recover their dead. All these bodies are… human,” Stephens said.
Jacob turned back. “All of them?”
Murphy was going through the Humvee and pulled a soldier from the turret before removing magazines from the man’s load-bearing vest while saying, “I haven’t seen one of them yet.”
Tyree shook his head. “Why would they take them?”
“Who knows,” Murphy answered as large explosions to the west took his attention. “How much farther is it?” he asked Tyree.
“We’re close… not far,” Tyree said. “The golf course is just across the street, other side of the bank.”
Murphy nodded. “Let’s move.”
Chapter 19
Tall shrubs lined the sidewalk that wound along the bank’s perimeter. The shrubs connected with a sandbag wall topped with a single row of razor wire. The long wall shielded the containment area of the parking lot but a large swath of it was knocked down and the bags pushed inward. The ensuing
avalanche of bags continued down and through the once finely manicured line of shrubs. The wire over the fallen bags stretched to the point of snapping, its loose un-coiled ends now lying twisted and mixed with the bags. Jacob and the team lay on their bellies at the mouth of the breach, looking out with Murphy using Tyree’s telescope to scout the terrain ahead.
Jacob lay looking at the terrain as Murphy pointed out landmarks. The ground ahead was flat and open for fifty feet with very little cover available from trees. Other buildings and structures were far apart so there would be little available to hide behind. Beyond the initial narrow street, ran a four-lane road with a lone bus stop to one side and then a thin stretch of median grass. Beyond the grass was an access road that curved around and led deeper into the park; they would be out in the open until they hit the golf course. At the edge of the fairway, a row of trees ran parallel to a path that skirted a tall chain-link fence bordering the golf course.
“That path,” Tyree pointed far into the distance, “will take us all the way to the boats. The harbor is fenced; I don’t know if the gate will be closed, but it ain’t high. We can jump it if it is.”
Murphy looked out with the scope and pivoted, following the path. Then he handed the scope off to Stephens.
“See any of them?” Jacob asked.
Murphy shook his head. “No, but they’ll be there… hiding… waiting.”
Stephens collapsed the scope and handed it back to Tyree before pulling his rifle back into his shoulder. “How you want to do this, Sergeant?”
“Tyree, you lead. You run into anything, shoot it in the face. Stephens, we have the flanks; run alongside the fence—it’ll keep one side protected—get to the harbor, find something that floats. Jacob, how’s the hip?”
“I’ll live,” Jacob answered.
Murphy smiled. “I hope so. We’re running the entire way. One eight-minute mile and we’re on the water. Don’t stop; we have to stay ahead of them. If we get pinned down, they’ll mass on our position. We can’t afford to fight our way out of that.”
“Got it,” Jacob said. The rest nodded their heads.
Murphy pulled back the bolt on his rifle, locking it to the rear. He dropped the magazine and inserted several loose rounds from his pocket to top it off. Jacob watched the veteran soldier push on the rounds, then after reinserting the magazine, let the bolt go forward. Jacob mimicked Murphy’s actions and readied his own weapon.
Murphy looked up, grinning. “Good day for a boat trip. Tyree, whenever you’re ready,” Murphy said.
Tyree crawled forward through the crumbling barrier and rose up, scrambling through and around the wire. Once he reached the street, he looked back to ensure he was being followed. Tyree paused long enough to allow the team to gather around him.
“Okay Ty, find me a boat,” Murphy said, slapping him on the back.
Jacob watched as Tyree crawled to the edge of the bags then, without speaking, took off running across the street toward the faraway tree line. He felt Murphy’s slap signaling for him to follow. Jacob pulled his rifle flat against his chest and ran, trying to keep pace close behind the younger man. Murphy and Stephens were to his left, running just feet away. He cut across the first street, stepped onto the narrow median, then on to another small blacktop road. Finally running across grass, he was in the park.
Tyree was pulling away, running too fast. A clustered group of figures stood up out of the shade near a patch of trees. Jacob saw them and wanted to shout a warning to Tyree. He willed his legs to move faster and try to catch up. A gunshot shattered the silence. One member of the clustered group had a small pistol in the air and fired in the team’s direction as the rest of the Others took chase.
Tyree pivoted and let loose several wildly fired rounds, low and wide, in the direction of the runners. Murphy and Stephens yelled for him to continue on while the two soldiers fired instead. They knocked down the one with the pistol and quickly dropped the rest. Jacob was now running alongside Tyree; he could see another cross street and, at the bottom of a low hill, the harbor was just coming into view.
Tyree raised his hand and pointed at a large group running directly at them from the edges of the park ahead. The group was to the team’s left and moving on an angle that would intersect them at the harbor gate.
“I see them; don’t stop, get to the boats!” Murphy yelled.
Jacob crossed the street separating the golf course from the park, carrying his rifle in his right hand. He pushed himself on and felt his lungs burning. In his peripheral vision, he saw the swarm rolling in closer with every second and he could hear their cries growing louder. They were behind them now and pursuing from the city. Jacob’s adrenaline surged as his vision narrowed to focus on the water in the distance. Enclosed by a tall, black iron fence, the harbor lay just ahead. The gate was open and Tyree pushed through while the sounds of Murphy and Stephens’ rifles filled the air.
Jacob ran through the gate and on to a parking lot inside, which paralleled a boardwalk and a number of small docks. The first of the docks held several small boats. Having already crossed the lot and hurdled over a small fence, Tyree was nearing the dock when he stopped and looked back at Jacob.
Jacob waved him on and yelled, “Ready the boat; I’ll get the gate!”
A sliding gate, secured with a chain lock, was left gaping in the open position. Jacob used his rifle to shoot at the lock, the third time successfully shattering its mechanism. The lock exploded and fell from the chain. Heaving with his back, Jacob pulled at the gate until it broke free and swung toward the closed position. Jacob left just enough space to allow Murphy and Stephens to squeeze through.
The gunfire put Jacob’s attention back to the distance; Murphy and Stephens were behind an abandoned car, firing into the charging mob. Jacob spotted a man far behind the mob, raising a rifle and preparing to fire. Rounds already pinged off the car’s hood, dangerously close to Stephens.
Jacob raised his rifle. Eye to the sight, he focused on the far-off target and pulled the trigger. A clear miss—he didn’t even see the round impact near the gunman. Using a trick his father taught him years ago when he learned to shoot, he aimed low and watched the rounds splash into the grass to the low right of the target. He adjusted his aim and fired again, this time knocking the man down. With the mob now closing in, Jacob dropped his point of aim and began firing rapidly into the mass.
Murphy and Stephens fell back, firing steadily until they reached the fence. Once they passed through, Jacob slid the gate shut behind them. Stephens removed a D-ring from his vest and placed it on the gate’s hasp moments before the mob collided with it. Jacob raised the rifle and shot one point-blank in the face. Even as it fell back, another quickly took its place.
“Go; leave them!” Murphy ordered, already turning to run toward the dock.
Tyree had a small boat untied and was standing on the bow, holding a rope while waiting for Jacob and the rest. Stephens grabbed Jacob by the back of his vest, pulling him along as they ran for the small boat. Jacob moved behind while Murphy leapt over the bow and climbed to the controls. When Jacob neared the bow, Stephens grabbed at Jacob’s jacket and pushed him aboard. Taking the rope from Tyree, he shoved the boat off the dock and into the water then jumped aboard as it drifted away.
The boat continued to pull away slowly, gliding through the water as Murphy called out, “I can’t start the motor; I got this running off the battery, but we won’t have much speed.”
A round shattered the small windshield; Stephens spun around, raised his rifle, and squeezed off several shots before being hit in the chest. He fell back, nearly rolling off the deck. Tyree dove, caught his arm, and pulled him back to the center. Jacob brought up his own rifle and aimed at the shoreline. The mob was climbing the iron fence and more were pouring in from the sides farther up the drive. They were ringing the water, yelling and shouting while, beyond the gates, more armed men hid in the shadows and fired at the boat.
Murphy fired quick roun
ds and then lifted his head to yell at Jacob, “Prioritize your targets! Shoot what’s shooting at us.”
Jacob saw three men running along the roadway carrying rifles, one leading by several feet. Jacob fired then watched the first one drop and trip up the one that was following close behind. Jacob shifted his point of aim, fired again, and saw another man drop. A round impacted the boat’s deck near his knees, causing Jacob to dive over the windscreen and take cover in the cabin. He held the rifle and continued to search and fire at targets while the boat crept along.
They were moving in on a bridge and would have to pass below it before entering the channel that would bring them into Lake Michigan. The surface of the crossing was covered with the Others, arms outstretched and reaching for them. Jacob fired up at their black eyes, taking a strange satisfaction in watching them tumble over the rail and into the water.
“We’re fucked!” Stephens called out. Lying back against the cabin with blood spilling from a rip in his vest, he struggled to swap magazines with one hand. He finished the task and brought his rifle back up. “Too many of ’em.”
“There!” Tyree screamed, spotting two attack helicopters.
”Stephens, smoke!” Murphy called while watching the Apaches circle around in a search pattern.
Stephens struggled with his left arm to free a smoke canister from his gear. He pulled it free of the pouch and tossed it under handed to Jacob.
“Get it on the bridge!” Murphy yelled.
Jacob held the canister in his right hand and pulled the pin. He threw it as hard as he could, but the grenade hit the bottom deck of the bridge and bounced into the water. Thinking he’d failed, Jacob cringed—then the channel surface erupted and red smoke boiled out of the water, quickly forming a cloud.
“Stephens, get your strobe on!” Murphy yelled. Reaching to his own collar, he connected a battery to a small device that he then inserted into a carrier on his chest.
