by W. J. Lundy
Brooks stopped, understanding the suggestion. He removed his own rifle from his back and dropped to the grass on the side of the road next to Sean. “You better catch up with the team, Brad,” Brooks said in a calm voice as he removed the lens caps from his rifle’s scope.
Brad turned and sprinted, trying to catch up with the others. The Little Bird cut back into view far to the south. It looked blurry cutting through the heat waves of its own exhaust as it dropped lower and angled forward. Brad watched the rest of the team dive for cover. Men in black uniforms leaned out from the sides of the Little Bird. Suspended from safety lanyards, they stood and raised their rifles, firing at Brad’s men crawling for cover.
The world slowed down. Brad felt rage seeing the men hanging and firing on his people. He stopped in the center of the street and planted his feet. He raised his rifle and aimed high, just above the quickly approaching helicopter. He used his thumb to rotate the selector switch to full auto and pumped the trigger, releasing three to four round bursts and adjusting his point of aim after every trigger squeeze. In slow motion, he watched the road all around him become pockmarked as incoming rounds impacted the pavement and kicked up tiny clouds of white dust.
Brad was focused on the windscreen of the Little Bird. It was close enough now that he could see the helmeted men wearing dark goggles at the controls. Brad pulled the trigger again, feeling the bolt lock to the rear. Keeping his eyes on target, he used his firing hand to push the magazine release button. His left hand dropped, found a new magazine in his chest rig, and fed the rifle. Slapping the magazine in place, he brought up his left thumb and pressed the bolt release as he watched the Little Bird’s windscreen split and spider web.
The helicopter dipped, losing altitude, then screamed as it turned abruptly, climbing at a steep angle directly into the sky and nearly clipping nearby trees. It cut up and out of sight to the right, then shot past them; nearly inverted as it crossed over the road diving at a deep angle.
Brad felt the concussion in the trees as the helicopter impacted with the ground.
“Hey, dumb ass! What was that?” Sean yelled from behind him.
Brad let his rifle hang in his right hand. He turned, looking back as he reacquired his senses.
Sean was still on the ground, changing magazines in the rifle. He got to a knee and climbed to his feet just as Brooks did the same thing to the right and a few feet behind him. “Maybe make this the last time you play chicken with a helicopter,” Sean said, stepping back onto the surface of the road.
“I think we can discuss Sergeant Thompson’s extreme acts of dumbassery at another time. That helo crash is gonna piss off the Primals; you know how ornery they get when they wake up early,” Brooks said, walking past at a quick pace.
Fulfilling Brooks’ prediction, they began to hear the sounds of the screaming Primals. Brooks picked up his pace and Brad joined him on the road at nearly a full sprint. The team was ahead, setting up a hasty fortification in the log barriers. Gunner was pointing and yelling instructions as the others closed off the logs to build a square logged-in perimeter. Parker and Joey were dragging in more trees from the edge of the woods. Brad ran to assist them and helped Joey toss a log into the barrier as the first of the Primals came into view.
Meyers raised his rifle and dropped the first creature with two well-placed shots. Brad quickly climbed over the logs and took a position facing the tree line. The others spread out, providing cover in all directions. Howard was standing in the middle of the circle, not knowing what to do, while Gunner slapped Brad on the back and pointed him to a section of the perimeter. Brad dropped his pack on the ground in front of him, pulled his extra magazines from pouches and laid them on top, then unsnapped his tomahawk and stuck it into the log to his front. He readied his rifle and looked ahead. He was watching the twelve o’clock portion of the perimeter and was responsible for anything from nine to three. Sean and Brooks to his left at the nine would overlap their sectors, covering from twelve to six. This repeated around the circle of security.
He could hear the sounds of the Primals crashing through the brush, the moans eerily echoing through the dark trees. Chelsea moved in beside him and looked over at him uncomfortably. Brad reached out his left hand and squeezed her shoulder. “We got this, breathe and shoot,” he told her over the roar of the Primals.
Chelsea forced a nervous grin and brought the rifle into the pocket of her shoulder, her voice cracked when she spoke. “We got this.”
Joey was to Brad’s right on the three beating his chest and screaming profanities back into the woods. “Come get some, you Primal pricks! I’m going to shoot you in the fucking face!” Joey’s yelling motivated the rest. Parker joined in screaming back at the Primals and they were all yelling as the first mass broke the tree line behind Brad. He heard Gunner and Meyers open up at the six o’clock position, then Joey and Parker at the three.
When Chelsea turned to assist them, Brad held up his hand and pointed back to their front. “Watch our sector; they will call out if they need us.” As he spoke, he saw a male in jeans and a blood-stained T-shirt, his face overgrown with a matted beard and a head of gnarled hair, running full speed and screaming. Brad hesitated, captivated by the crazy’s fierce eyes as he ran, crashing through brush unconcerned by the limbs pulling and scratching at his face. Chelsea fired to his left. Brad brought up his rifle and pulled the trigger, dropping the bearded Primal. He then shifted to the next one and pulled the trigger.
He shifted fire; they were coming in twos and threes, closing on them quickly. Chelsea called out that she was reloading. Brad pivoted so that he could see farther and cover her position. She went back online as he fired a last round. He hastily reloaded as one of them broke into the front of the barrier. Brad turned hard, grabbed the hawk, and slapped the Primal hard on the head, knocking it off its feet. He finished reloading and shot the thing in the head just as it began to get back up. To the front, they were stacking up, pushing into each other as they ran out of the trees in a full mob, and tripping over the bodies of those already dropped.
Brad swiveled left and right, taking aimed shots, but as fast as he knocked one down, another would take its place. They were now in against the logs, trying to climb over and get at the shooters inside. Gunner called out over the gunfire and roar of the infected. “Keep it up! Nothing gets through. Every shot counts!”
Joey yelled, “Frag out!”
Brad looked to his right and saw why. The road was packed with them; a parade of infected, pressing against each other, struggling to get to the barricaded men. The grenade exploded, creating a deep void in the mass that was quickly filled in by more. Joey laughed manically, “Is that all you got you pussies!” He reached down and lifted the M249 Squad automatic weapon that Parker had packed in, but they had hesitated to use because of noise discipline. Noise was no longer a concern. Joey climbed up on the first row of logs and let loose with a long burst. “How you like that?!” he screamed as he cut through the advancing wave.
Parker joined in the screaming; firing a 40mm from his M203, the grenade landed deep in the mass. The ABHE round bounced off the road and detonated just above the heads of the advancing mob. The blast was loud, the concussion nearly knocking Brad off his feet. A fifty meter swath of Primals was blown to the ground, tiny bits of fragmentation ripping their bodies apart. Parker reloaded and fired into another mass with the same effect. “Yes!” he screamed as he reloaded to fire again.
“Get some Parker! Get some!” Joey screamed as he swung to the left, firing the rest of the belted ammo until the SAW was dry.
Brad turned back to the front. The mob was thinning out; many were on the ground dying, and the logs were twisted with their shattered and wrecked bodies. He searched, knocking down any still on their feet. The attack was over, the wave destroyed.
“Mount up; we need to move before more show up!” Gunner yelled.
No time for high fives or celebrating, they quickly reloaded their weapons and
threw their rucks over their shoulders. They were back on the road and running through the broken, ravaged bodies of the Primals. They had to get out of the area quickly before more packs showed up. Brooks and Sean were at the front of the column. Occasionally, a suppressed burst from their weapons would cut down a stray Primal that intersected with them.
They rounded a corner where a vehicle with a smashed-in front sat, blocking the road. Farther into the field, they saw a truck buried in mud to its floorboards. They posted security around the car as Brooks pried open the front door.
“Keys are in it,” he shouted as he slid into the seat. The car cranked hard, then started. The fan belt squeaked loudly as Brooks revved the engine. Sean used his hawk to pry bent and twisted sheet metal away from the front tire. Brad reached in with gloved hands and grabbed portions of the destroyed fender. Together, they managed to pull enough away so that Brooks could turn the wheel.
“Pile on,” Gunner ordered.
They pushed Howard into the back seat with Gunner on one side and Chelsea on the other. Sean and Meyers crammed in the front with Brooks. The rest climbed in or onto the vehicle, searching for a spot to attach themselves. Brooks put the car in gear and eased it onto the roadway. It pulled to the left and made an awful sound as it rolled, but it still beat walking.
CHAPTER 27
“Stay ahead of it,” Shane mumbled, standing on the roof looking far down the road.
Ella was next to him; she’d refused to leave his side since the first sounds of whatever battle was raging. He’d seen the helicopter crash and had climbed to the roof for a better vantage point as the roars of the infected built. They were all congregating at a point somewhere north on the road. He could hear them moaning and howling as they closed in on their prey.
Gunfire erupted; slowly at first, then all at once, there was a heavy barrage of concentrated fire. He heard the familiar sounds of a SAW and the thump of a forty mike-mike. Smoke billowed up in the trees; it was close, just near the position where he met the bandits. The shooting stopped after the moaning, indicating that, whoever they were, they survived the onslaught. They were well-armed and well-trained.
Are they friendly?
Shane looked at Ella—he couldn’t risk it. He lifted her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He moved back to the ladder and had her hold on tight as he dropped back into the garage below. The moaning was gone. The gunfire stopped. He knew the battle would attract others and they would be heavily concentrated in this area by sundown. Large packs all over the countryside were probably already on the move, trying to get here to join the hunt.
Now was the time to go.
He put Ella down and had her hold his belt, wanting to keep her within arm’s reach. He lifted his heavy rucksack with his left hand and pulled it over both shoulders. He took the SKS in his right hand and checked the action, verifying it was ready.
“Are we leaving now?” Ella asked. Her face was pale against the dark purple rings under her eyes. She was frightened and sensed the lurking dangers. The stress was taking a heavy toll on her. Shane reached for her hand and felt her cold fingers. He stopped and dropped to his knees, facing her.
“We’re leaving now,” Shane whispered to her.
She moved forward and clung to him in a tight hug, burying her head in his chest. He put his hand on the back of her head. “It’s okay, Ella, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.
“I love you, Shane,” she said.
He let his hand drop to her back. As he hugged her tight, he felt tears forming in his eyes. Shane hadn’t heard those words spoken to him since he was a boy her age— from his mother, maybe. His Grandfather wasn’t the type to be slowed up by emotions.
“I… love you too, Ella,” his voice breaking as he whispered the words.
He slung the rifle and lifted Ella, cradling her in his arms. He stood easily, not feeling the weight of the pack. Shane walked through the building to the front for the last time and opened the store’s front door; a quick look left and right verified the yard was still clear. He moved to the sedan and strapped Ella into the front seat. He removed his pack and stuffed it into the trunk with the rest of their stuff, then closed the doors and climbed onto the hood of the car so he could see over the fence. He listened intently. It’d been some time since he’d heard a gunshot or infected moan. He needed to move while he could. Shane jumped off the hood of the car and faced the cipher lock. He drew a blank trying to remember the code.
“Oh no, it was some NASCAR shit. What was it, dammit?” He stepped back looking at the fence.
Shane punched numbers and turned the knob. It refused to move. “Oh, what the hell!” he said frustration growing. “Where’s Kyle when you need him?”
“880…” he said to himself.
He punched in the three numbers, not remembering the last. 8800, nothing; 8801, nothing; 8802, nothing; 8803, the knob turned and the latch clunked open. Shane reached for a pull handle and slid the door open, then returned to the car. The engine started easily and he pulled through until he’d just cleared the gate. He looked at the opening for a moment, then jumped from the car. He grabbed the gate and slid it shut, not wanting to give up the refuge to the infected. Shane ran back to the open door of the car and heard a loud squeal coming from up the road.
“What now?” he said just above a whisper.
He was standing in the open doorway with his rifle still slung over his shoulder. He looked north as a vehicle slowly came into view. It was smoking from a smashed in front end. He recognized it as the car he’d plowed into with the old pickup truck. Uniformed men were riding on the hood and roof of the vehicle; they were armed with military rifles and wearing web gear. Shane considered getting in the car and racing away.
He could see the men clearly; they looked back at him with their weapons down. Shane felt the weight of the SKS on his shoulder. He removed it and held it loosely in his grip as the car approached. He froze, watching them. Ella undid her seat belt and climbed across; she sat up on her knees next to him.
“Look, Shane! Soldiers like you,” she said.
He let go of the SKS and put his hand on her shoulder. “Okay, Ella, let’s see.”
The car pulled up close, then parked diagonally on the road. The driver cut the engine and the vehicle coughed and sputtered. Soldiers on the roof leapt off and took up security on both sides. Shane immediately noticed that no one had pointed a rifle at him. Doors opened and more soldiers got out; a man in a flight suit approached speaking quickly, too fast for Shane to understand. He said he was a doctor and that he was looking for them. He moved at Shane; Ella was scared and cowered behind him.
Shane shielded her with his arm. “Okay, that’s close enough!”
“Is it her?” the doctor asked.
Shane looked at him confused. “Who are you?”
“Her arm, was she bitten?”
Shane looked down at Ella then at the doctor, understanding what he was asking. He took his arm off of Ella so she could lean out. She held up her wrist and carefully rolled up her sleeve, showing the nearly healed wound. The doctor suddenly laughed and stepped closer. Shane again held up his hand, cautioning the doctor to stay back, this time putting the other on the grip of the pistol in his waist band.
An older man with a 1911 in a shoulder holster stepped forward, putting a hand on the doctor and directing him away. “It’s okay, soldier. We’ve been looking for you; looking for the girl to be honest with ya. We know you were at Fort Collins.”
“You know about Collins?” Shane asked.
Shane looked at them all. They were military; he could tell by their posture. A young woman smiled at him. She noticed his stare. “You did good. We’re here to help you.”
The old soldier spoke again, “Why don’t you take the girl into the back seat with you, we really need to put some distance on this place. We can talk on the way.”
Shane looked at all of them again and nodded. He turned, allowing Ella to
climb into his arms, and stepped away from the open door. The young woman came forward and opened the back for him and he dropped into the back seat, the female moving in beside him. The doctor ran around the car and got in the other side, cramming him into the middle between them. The old soldier got in the driver’s seat while another got in front.
Shane sat back in the seat while Ella curled into his lap and hid her face from the others. He looked straight ahead. The second vehicle cranked back to life. Soldiers jumped into it, slamming doors. The old soldier in front put the sedan in gear and they pulled away. The doctor next to him reached for Ella’s arm. Shane’s hand shot up and snatched the doctor’s wrist. “Not now!” he said calmly.
The old soldier looked in the rear view mirror at him and the rank on his uniform. “It’s okay, Sergeant. The Doc just wants to make sure she’s okay.”
Shane let go of the doctor’s wrist and looked down at the rank tab on his jacket. “She’s fine. Just tired is all; and I’m not a sergeant anymore. I was medically retired years ago. You can call me Shane.”
“Well, Shane, you’ve done a hell of a job. You could call me retired as well, although it’d be hard to tell these days.”
“Who are you? Where did you come from?”
Gunner made introductions, then explained to Shane what their mission was and how the British were involved. The doctor told him about Ella, how important she was, and how she may be immune to the virus. Shane stayed quiet while listening to their story.
“Where were you going?” Chelsea asked. When she spoke, Ella lifted her head and looked at her.
Shane looked down at Ella, moving the hair out of her eyes. “Savannah. I thought it might still be there. Heard stories about them back at Collins.”
Gunner looked back at him. “Makes sense, it’s not far from here. What do you think, Doc; you know anything about Hunter Air Field, near Savannah?”
Howard shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
