by W. J. Lundy
Brooks picked up a kitchen chair and threw it down the hallway into the living room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted as he walked away into the other room.
Howard paused uncomfortably, watching Brooks leave the room. Meyers pulled out a second chair and sat across from Howard. “Why didn’t you tell us this before, mate?”
Howard looked down at his lap, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know if I could trust you. Every effort we have made to find a sample has been thwarted by the CNRT; they are everywhere.”
“Who are they?” Meyers asked.
“They’re us. Before the split, you know, after the Meat Grinder.”
Sean grunted, “Doc, what the hell are you talking about?”
Howard looked at Sean confused. “After DC; you know… the failed defense of the city, the Battle of the Meat Grinder? The government split, the executive branch refused to give up the city. Most of the house and senate had already retreated to their home districts.
Finally, after days of losses and entire military units deserting, the joint chiefs made a call. They ordered the evacuation of the city against the orders of the president. Not everyone listened, but much of the military and a good deal of the federal government went far west.”
“And they became the CNRT?” Sean asked.
Howard nodded. “It was like they went into a mountain bunker as the US Government and came out the Coordinated National Response Team. I was working in Virginia when it all fell apart. It’s only by chance that I’m not with them now. We were given the evac order and they brought caravans of helicopters to evacuate us back west. Several of us were separated, but we managed to link up with some National Guard units and local law enforcement. They moved us north, all the way across the Ohio River to a hospital at an air force base near Dayton.”
“You said you were with the Public Health Service?” Sean asked.
“I am, but with the Midwest Alliance.”
Gunner shook his head and slammed a fist onto the table’s surface. “Okay, all bullshit aside; what are the facts we need now?”
“Bottom line, if we ever want a chance at a future… a cure, we need that girl. If the CNRC gets to her first, they will kill her and burn the body.”
“How did they find us?” Gunner asked.
“Probably didn’t, they’re thorough and probably have the same info we did about Fort Collins. They’re good with electronics—.”
“They probably hit on the HF radio call this morning,” Meyers said.
The helicopter flew closer before making another wide arc and disappearing. Joey ran through the living room and looked out of the front door while Sean took back his position at the kitchen window. “Chopper’s gone but by the looks of that smoke, so is the barge. I’m sure the Primals will be up early.”
Gunner stomped across the room, grabbing his rucksack and throwing it up onto his shoulders. “Okay, we need to get moving before this place is overrun. Suppressors if you got ‘em; we roll two by two on the road,” he said as he reached into a side pouch on his hip, pulled out a screw on can, and attached it to the end of his SA80. “Let’s go, ladies!” Gunner stepped off through the home, nearly kicking the front door off its hinges as he burst out onto the front porch.
CHAPTER 25
Shane dropped into the space of the garage and looked to the couch were he’d left Ella. She was curled into a ball, hiding under the green blanket. He moved to her side and pulled it away from her head. She looked at him and whispered, “I heard bad people, Shane.”
“It’s okay. I heard it too, but it’s far way. Nobody knows we’re here,” Shane said, trying to hide the concern in his voice.
“Can we leave now, Shane?”
Shane put his hand on her back and laid back against the couch searching for an answer. She climbed out of the blanket and lay in his lap. In the distance, he heard the helicopter again. He debated building a fire to signal them.
But the gunfire… who or what was that? Maybe just battling the infected. Maybe not… No, can’t risk it, don’t know who they were. Stick to the plan, Shane; get the girl to Savannah.
“Okay, Ella, we can leave. We’ll get the car ready to go and leave in the morning, okay?”
Ella lifted her head and smiled. She climbed from his lap and, standing on the cushion next to him, gave Shane a hug. He squeezed her back. Shane didn’t have any experience with children. In the past, he always thought of them as annoying tiny people that required a lot of attention. The girl’s need for affection used to make him uncomfortable. It’d been awhile since he’d allowed anyone to get close to him. At first he faked it, but now the feeling for her was real; he wondered if this was what it was like to be a father. To know you would protect someone with your life. To have something to fight for.
Shane kissed her on the forehead and got back to his feet. He grabbed the car keys from the table in front of him and pushed a button to pop the trunk. He’d have to prioritize the food and get as much as possible into the sedan. With the vehicle, and sticking to rural roads, Shane thought they could make Savannah in a few hours’ time—leaving just before noon and arriving at the hottest part of the day. He would have to have a contingency plan, just in case Savannah was gone, or they didn’t make it there.
Shane walked to the trunk of the car; there was plenty of space and would be more if he pushed the seats forward. He noticed a board on a wall with more sets of keys. There were vehicles all over the property and he debated selecting something different; one of the wreckers out front perhaps, or a rusted van he’d spotted from the roof. In the end, he stuck with the sedan because it was a known and the bandits had selected it for a reason.
He found two large canvas duffel bags filled with junk; Shane dumped the contents on the floor and returned to the food stores. He began selecting things that could be considered entire meals or that were high in protein. He stuffed the spaces in between with the plastic-wrapped dried meats, small packages of crackers, and other dry goods. He found four large jugs of water that he stored behind the backseats. Shane loaded the rest of the empty SKS magazine and poured the remaining rounds from the Spam can into a pouch on his rucksack.
Once the car was fully packed and loaded, he pulled it out of the garage and parked it just in front of the sliding gate. Tactically parked, he called it. If anything happened and they needed to bug out quick, he could slide the gate and go. Last thing he wanted was to be surrounded and stuck in the garage with the things pressed against the sliding door. This way he could cause a distraction near the overhead doors and sneak out a different exit. He left the keys in the ignition and walked back through the front door of the building. He found Ella with the tiny backpack. She was sorting through other cans of food and had apparently discovered a secret stash of candy.
“Hey, where’d you find the goodies?” he asked, watching her sort through a large freezer bag of individually wrapped chocolates.
“There,” she answered, pointing to a wooden foot locker.
Shane walked across the room and opened the lid. It was stuffed with personal items—socks, faded T-shirts, periodicals. Shane found a small leather bag; inside it were bottles of prescription drugs. He stared at one labeled Vicodin with a woman’s name. Shane removed the cap and shook the bottle; it was at least half full. He had stopped taking his own pills the morning he left his apartment, fully intending not to see another day. His pain was still real—a constant reminder of his injuries—but his thoughts were clearer now. Shane poured the contents of the bottle into the palm of his hand. He looked at them, moving them around with his index finger.
“Did you find candy, Shane?” Ella asked.
Suddenly feeling guilty, Shane closed his palm on the pills then poured them back into the bottle. He placed the bottle back into the small leather bag, zipped it shut and held it, trying to decide what to do with it. He reached across and slammed the wooden locker shut before returning to the task of packing for the trip. As he
walked by his rucksack, he stuffed the leather bag into an outside pocket. It was still medicine and might be needed, he justified to himself.
He built a small fire and prepared cans of chicken soup for lunch. He made coffee and strained juice from the cans of fruit to mix with water for Ella. He kept the fire small and made up of dry sticks so that the smell of wood smoke would be harder to detect. He was still unsure about the sounds of combat he’d heard earlier in the day and he didn’t want to attract unwanted guests. He ate as much as he could hold and encouraged Ella to overeat as well. It was important to pick up as many calories as possible when they had the opportunity.
Shane let the fire burn itself out, not wanting to smother it and cause extra smoke. Ella was asleep again. She didn’t like to let him know, but he was aware how hard the traveling was on her. Shane poured the rest of the fruit drink mix into a glass on the table and then went to clean up their dinner mess. He checked the back doors to make sure everything was bolted tight, then went by himself to search the front offices he’d bypassed earlier.
He walked the hallway and stopped at the wooden office door. The bottom of it was kicked and broken, the glass cracked and chipped. Shane turned the knob and let the door swing in. The office was dark and stunk of cigarette smoke. A clay ashtray filled with butts sat on a desk covered with yellow receipt paper and other forms. An old beige computer was on the floor in the corner with a dusty tube monitor sitting on top. Shane moved around the desk and sat in a torn vinyl roller chair. He opened the top drawer; it was filled with junk, rusty car parts, and bolts. The next drawer held files and a box of envelopes. Shane leaned back in the chair and looked at the walls. There were photos of old men on the covers of calendars—previous owners he imagined.
Shane got up and left the office, closing the door behind him. He walked into the storefront and looked around. An antique register was on the counter. Shane hit a button and a drawer rolled open to reveal the tray still filled with cash, small bills, nothing larger than a ten. Paper currency no longer held value, but he still grabbed a fistful of the dry bills to use as fire starter. He folded the stack in half and stuffed it in his pocket. Shane turned to leave, then paused as he heard the sound of the helicopter.
He walked to the front door and cracked it open. There was little cloud cover, the skies were blue, and he could see the treetops blowing in a soft breeze high above the fence. The helicopter was high-pitched and getting louder; it seemed to be moving in his direction. Shane stayed in the cover of the doorway searching the sky as it flew past him, traveling just above the treetops and flying fast. It was a small scout helicopter. They’d called them Little Birds when he was in the army. He could see two men clad in black holding rifles, hanging from the sides and riding the skids of the helicopter.
The Little Bird moved fast then climbed at a sharp angle before seeming to float in the sky. The nose turned around, it quickly dropped altitude, and then shot back up the road in the opposite direction headed for the river. As it moved out of sight, Shane recognized the sound of 70 millimeter rockets being launched and the sharp explosions. Deep in the trees, less than a few miles away, dark plumes of gray smoke filled the air. Automatic weapons fire joined in the mix; he could tell from the sounds that it was ground based and 5.56. More explosions and more gunfire sounded before the Little Bird sped past him again, made the same turning motion, and dropped low to the road. Shane watched as the men on the skids fired down the street while the Little Bird shot past, just above the treetops, and straight down the road.
He felt a thump against his leg and saw Ella had found him; her head was buried in the fabric of his pants. Shane dropped his right arm to her shoulder as he backed into the storefront. He pushed the door three-quarters of the way shut and looked at the sky through the narrow crack. The helicopter changed pitch and made a whining sound. As it drew closer, he watched it cut up out of the tree line at an odd angle; it spun around to the side, gaining altitude as it spun. Its nose dipped, then it dropped and increased speed before it completely vanished out of his line of sight. A large explosion shook the trees. Shane pulled inside and closed the door behind him. He then turned the bolt lock, latching the door.
Ella was sobbing. He reached down and picked her up. She buried her head in his shoulder and cried. “Can we go, Shane?”
Shane leaned back, pressing against the door, trying to decide what to do. Keeping Ella cradled in his arms, he hurried to the living space. He grabbed his nearly empty M4 and placed it on top of his rucksack, clipping the D-ring to one of the straps. He slung the SKS over his shoulder, reached for his bag, and then paused, second guessing himself. Shane paced around the room, fighting the acid bile of panic building in his stomach. He took a deep breath and stood in front of his rucksack.
It started; the wailing of the infected. The helicopter and gunfight stirred up everything in the area—and they were on the hunt. They were loud and seemed to surround him. Even inside the fences and enclosed in the block building he could hear the howls as they woke. Shane, still carrying Ella, moved to a back window and pulled back a roll down blind.
The yard was still empty but the moans of the infected filled the air, then slowly turned to a roar. They were no longer hunting… they’d found their prey.
CHAPTER 26
Sean, Brooks, and Meyers were setting a quick pace in the front of the formation. The rest of the team made up the rest of the column, staggered on the left and right sides of the road. Howard was next to Gunner who was still grilling him for information.
During the Battle of the Meat Grinder, the military switched from a defensive operation to a full withdrawal. The Pentagon was evacuated along with every high-ranking government official who was willing to go. The President held firm though; most of his staff, and even some of the elite military units, stood by his side to the end. There were rumors he was alive in a bunker or on some remote island. People even claimed to have seen a video broadcast from Bermuda.
After the Meat Grinder, states retracted from the federal government. Territorial lines were drawn and new alliances were made. Howard and his group landed in the southern portion of the Midwest Alliance. Texas was the second stronghold, and then there was Colorado. By circumstance, the CNRT was located in bunker complexes deep in the Rocky Mountains.
Early on, the Coordinated National Response Team was just what the name said it was; they shared national resources to help provide stability to what was left of the nation. As state governments became more isolated, the CNRT began losing control of federal assets located within state borders—reserve units, federal agencies, major airports, and oil pipelines. The CNRT grew more aggressive. It was then that the leaders of the Midwest Alliance discovered the CNRT’s efforts to prevent the nation from finding a cure. Defectors claimed the CNRT leadership believed the only way to unite the country would be with a cure, and the party holding the cure would come out on top.
The group didn’t make it far before they picked up on the sounds of the searching helicopter. When they heard the thump of the Little Bird, Sean waved them into the wood line. They quickly scrambled into the trees moments before the helicopter cut perpendicular to the road, just behind and north of their location. It flew fast, making itself visible for less than a second.
Sean called them back up and took off again, this time at a near run. The sounds of the helicopter faded, then slowly increased as it looped back for another run.
“How the hell do they know we’re here?” Gunner yelled as he pushed Howard ahead of him.
“I don’t know!” Howard said wheezing. “Maybe the boat crew said something… told someone we were looking for the girl.”
The helicopter sounded like it was right on top of them and Sean, again, signaled for them to get off the road. Brad ran for thick cover just as the helicopter, this time coming from behind, flew down the center, following the road just above the trees and continued past them.
Sean yelled all clear and called them back to th
eir feet. As Brad moved to the road, he saw the bloated body of a fat man with gunshot wounds to the head and face. He pointed it out to Gunner, who only nodded in response. When they resumed running, Brad saw a spot where the gravel on the shoulder of the road was chewed up and black tire marks covered the pavement. Primal bodies were in the grass and lying on the blacktop near the spot. As they ran by, Brooks paused to grab the loose gravel and tumble it through a gloved hand. Brad ran up and stopped beside him.
Brooks looked at him. “Something happened here. We’re getting closer.”
“Did you see the dead fat man?”
Brooks looked up the road as the last of the team ran past. “I did, and those were .22 shell casings on the ground, same as at the farmhouse. I think the soldier was our shooter.”
Brooks stretched out an arm and pushed Brad into the tree line as the Little Bird came back into view directly ahead of them. The Little Bird lined up and angled down. Brad saw a flash as rockets smoked in their direction. He ran farther into the trees and buried his head. The rockets overshot and landed more than fifty feet behind them before the explosions shook the ground. As the bird flew out of range again, everyone was back up and running—this time without being told. The helicopter’s pitch changed as it turned and lined back up with the road. Again, they dove for the tree line as it flew by; Brad and the others rolled to their backs, now firing on the helicopter. The bird juked and rose in elevation but continued its track down the road.
Sean ordered everyone on their feet, and then pointed to logs crisscrossing the road far in the distance, “Go, go! When you hear it, get to cover.”
Sean stood on the side of the road and had removed the long rifle from his pack. “Let’s finish this shit, Brooks!” he yelled when Brooks and Brad hit his position.
