by W. J. Lundy
“They only need to go a few miles; then you can hold up someplace or secure another vehicle,” Sean answered.
“You? Oh hell no, I’m staying here,” Brooks said.
“Sorry Brooks, if they have any chance of making it, they’re going to need you; but don’t worry bro—I’ll have the good sergeant here with me,” Sean said, winking at Brad.
“Bullshit, Chief!” Brooks protested. “Brad needs to go with the group. I’d do better back here with you, and you’re going to need me on the rifle beside you.”
Brad cleared his throat. “Do I get a say in all of this?”
Sean paused and looked Brad up and down. “Sure… what would you prefer: stay here with me, or have me stay back here with you?”
Brooks shook his head and grabbed Brad by both shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Trust me; this is the last place you will want to be when they move up that road. Chief plans to run a delaying action with one rifle. That’s no way to fight. Let me stay behind and do this and you stick with the group, help get them to Savannah. They have Gunner and Meyers and the grunts; they don’t need me.”
Brad dropped his eyes. He looked at the corner of the room where Chelsea was doting over the little girl, while the soldier hovered over them. He looked back at Brooks and forced a smile. “No, Chief’s right. They need you.”
“Brad, he isn’t going to tell you this is a suicide mission… but I will!”
Sean put his hands up. “We’ll make contact with their rear element. Put some fire on them, slow their roll, and bug out. I don’t plan on dying here, Brooks.”
“What if they bring in more helicopters?” Brooks countered.
“I think they are used up… if they had more birds, we’d have been hit again. I’m guessing they’re low on resources. That Little Bird we took out was flying solo, without an escort. Why would they go like that without a wingman? I think they’re spent, no wingman because they didn’t have one. If Howard is right, and the CNRT is based in Colorado, this is a long way from home. I’m betting my life on them only having a small ground element out there. Something small enough that they won’t risk a night attack in Primal country.”
Sean paused and looked across the room. Gunner was suited up, standing by the door and the others were gathering behind him. Gunner looked back at Sean and tapped his wrist. Sean turned to Brooks. “Get them out of here. I’m tired and I don’t want to argue about this.”
“Very well, Chief, I’ll get them settled and circle back for you,” Brooks said, abruptly walking away before he could be told no.
Brad followed him; he wanted to say goodbye to Chelsea and the others. None of them were happy to hear he was staying behind. Parker and Joey eagerly volunteered to stay as well, or take his place. Chelsea was quiet. He knew he once again disappointed her; she would never understand why he seminally always chose the Chief over her. He had to explain the importance of getting the girl to safety. He promised them he would catch up after daybreak. Chelsea stared at him while he spoke. He knew that she wanted more of an answer or a private conversation. Brad was thankful that there wasn’t time for long goodbyes. He needed to get his head in the game, and thinking about her would only be a distraction.
He walked with them to the rear entrance where they stacked up on the door, waiting for Sean’s command before they moved out. In the dark of the hallway, he hugged Chelsea goodbye and shook the hands of his men before walking to a boiler room, where he met Sean by a roof access ladder. Sean was waiting in the entrance of the door. “How are your comms?”
Brad plugged in the ear piece of the device and powered it on. Sean gave him a quick squelch of the mic and Brad responded with a double click.
“Okay, good. Take the spotting scope and set up back from the window behind the reception counter. I’ll be focused on the shooter out there so I need you to keep an eye on my flanks.”
Brad nodded and took the scope in his hands. He powered it on and scanned down the hall; the green and black speckled image came back grainy in the interior space. He heard Sean beginning to clank up the ladder and felt the rain on his shoulders when the hatch above swung open. He turned the scope off and walked across the hallway into the office. He moved to the end of a long counter and crept around it. He got to his hands and knees so he was below the window, then crawled to the back of the room where a row of flattop desks sat. He found one covered with family photos and fake plants.
He ducked in behind the desk and slid the chair out of the way. The scope had a small set of adjustable tripod legs that Brad deployed. He positioned the scope on the desk so that he was looking between the sets of potted plants. Brad checked his rifle and laid it flat on the floor in front of his knees. He reached up and powered up the scope; the soft green glow lit the cup of the eye piece. He pushed his eye against it and began to scan.
“I’m up, but I don’t see anything,” he spoke into the mic.
“Start at the left corner; count off four structures.”
Brad did as instructed and then scanned the structure. A small ranch house, or what was left of some of the framed walls, was still standing but stripped of its sheathing. The roof had fallen to the side and was lying in a mass of rubble.
“The stone chimney—target is to the left of it.”
Brad found the chimney and carefully turned the scope to the left, then dialed up the resolution. The man was hidden well but wasn’t on the rifle like Brad expected. Instead, he was sitting back against the chimney wearing a parka, the hood pulled over his head. He was drinking from a thermos and looking down, rarely looking in the direction of the school.
“I see him,” Brad said.
“Good, start scanning.”
Brad continued passing to the right, letting the scope hang on anything that could provide concealment. He moved beyond the structure and off to the next. Another destroyed home. As the scope smoothly moved to the left; he thought he saw a splash of motion. He paused and dialed out the resolution. There was a small aluminum garden shed still standing. Brad looked to the left and right of it and spotted more movement, then the silhouette of a man at the corner of the shed. He moved again and disappeared.
“Second target, fifty meters to the right, between the buildings. See the garden shed.”
“I see the shed, no target.”
Brad watched the small building and saw the man step back to the side, exposing himself for just a second before dropping back. Then the man walked completely around and opened a door on the shed before slipping inside.
“He’s inside the shed.”
“Roger, stay on him… firing… target down.”
Brad watched the man walk back out of the door and stand there looking in the direction of the school. His rifle was slung and his hands were in his pockets. He looked left and right as if he’d heard a sound, then turned and looked off into the distance away from the school.
“I got him… firing… target down.”
Before Brad could respond, he watched the man take a direct hit to the high center of his back. His body jerked forward, then collapsed. Brad scanned back to the stone chimney and saw the first man slumped forward. “Confirmed two targets down.”
“Get them out the door.”
Brad flipped off the scope, scooped up his rifle, and crawled to the door. Even though he knew the scouts were down, he didn’t want to take any chances. He reached the hallway and ran down it at a jog. He passed the tail of the group leaning against the hallway walls, and ran to the door where Gunner and Brooks were standing.
“Both are scouts are down. Sean’s up top.”
Brooks nodded. He reached down, put on his pack, and rolled out the door. Gunner stayed in position, pushing the others out behind him in a close line formation. Brad watched as each of them filed past, not being able to see their faces in the dark of the hallway. The last of them filed by and then Gunner leaned over to Brad. “Good luck, son. Don’t stay longer than you have to. Get your ass to Savannah; we’ll
be waiting for you there.” He slapped Brad hard on the shoulder then rolled out after the others.
Brad pulled his night vision over his eyes, stepped into the doorway, and crouched down. He watched the team moving away—three in the front, then the soldier carrying the girl, Chelsea and two more bringing up the rear. A bright flash of tightening washed out his night vision. He powered them off and lifted them off his head. Brad blinked hard, readjusting to the darkness. Looking left and right, he backed into the doorway.
“Grab your shit; time to find some new real estate.”
CHAPTER 31
He carried her close to his chest. The SKS slung over his shoulder and the ammo-replenished M4 strapped to the top of his back. The other men had offered to help carry the girl, but when Shane refused they finally convinced him to let them carry his gear. His ruck was now nearly empty, only some blankets and a day’s rations left in it. He felt refreshed moving with this new group, some of the responsibility having been removed from his shoulders.
It was dark. The rain poured down and gusts of wind blew his hood back from his head. Ella curled tight against his chest causing him to perspire. Even though it made him uncomfortable, he knew it would keep the girl warm. The group had given him fresh batteries for his PVS-7, but with the rain and lightning, he chose to trust his natural eyesight and not rely on the night vision device. They moved quickly, sometimes at a near run, through alleys and over backyard fences. At one point, they paused and Shane heard several suppressed gun shots, then they were back up at a near run.
The pace continued for what seemed like hours. When they finally stopped under the overhang of a tall building, Shane checked the iridium dial on his watch and saw they’d been on the trail for forty minutes. A bit after midnight, it was prime feeding hour for the infected, or Primals as the group called them. This unit was smart; they had experience moving among them. Shane spent the majority of the outbreak behind the walls of Fort Collins. Rarely did he move outside the wire after the early days of the outbreak, especially at night. He found from listening to their stories that these men were well traveled and experienced in this new form of warfare.
The signal was given to move out again. After traveling two blocks, they were met with ankle deep water that gradually rose. Months without maintenance, the gutters and street drains were becoming clogged with refuse. Rainwater filled the streets and with no place to go, it backed up into yards and low lying areas. They crossed diagonally through a vacant lot littered with floating garbage. A man held down a strand of a wire fence so the rest could climb over it, and then they climbed a steep embankment that topped out at a set of railroad tracks. When everyone was back online, they knelt down and used the high ground to get their bearings.
Lightening streaked across the sky, reflecting light off the sheets of water. The flooding made everything look as if it was encased in ice. The thought sent chills through Shane’s body; the wind whipped and blew cold rain against his neck that slowly worked its way into every crevice of his person. His legs were already soaked to the bone. His arms throbbed from holding Ella; even though she barely weighed fifty pounds, the awkwardness was starting to drain the blood from his limbs. He relaxed his grip and let her rest on his knee as the men ahead of him worked out their next move.
Chelsea moved up beside him. He felt her touch and she whispered in his ear, asking if it was okay if she checked on the girl. Shane adjusted his grip and allowed Ella to sit up on his knee. Chelsea pulled back the girl’s hood and touched a hand to her forehead. She whispered to her, and offered her a bottle of water to sip from. Ella held the bottle in her fingers and sipped thirstily before passing it back. She pushed into him and he grimaced feeling the back injury begin to tighten up.
Chelsea saw his expression and the look of pain. “I can take her for a while,” she whispered.
Shane looked at her and shook his head slowly. “I got her.”
Chelsea stood, moving back to her position. Shane gently touched her wrist. “Thank you,” he whispered.
The word was passed to move out. Shane adjusted his grip on Ella so that she was higher on his shoulder and taking the weight off his arms. He climbed to his feet and followed the man in front of him. The ground was uneven on the railroad tracks. Without maintenance, the ties had lifted out of the ground and become trip hazards. He could hear the men in front of him step and slip on the limestone boulders that filled the rail space.
Sounds of moaning and Primals on the hunt began to fill the air. Subtle at first, but as they moved, the sounds increased and mixed with the noise of splashing water. The winds continued to pick up, and soon the rain was nearly vertical. Something was happening; Shane didn’t know what, he couldn’t see far ahead in the blowing rain, but could feel it. Brooks increased the pace. Shane was nearly at a jog when the soldier in front of him tripped on an uneven railroad tie. Shane stopped and went to help him up but Chelsea was there pulling the soldier from the ground before he could assist.
Gunfire erupted from the front; he could hear the clacking of the suppressed weapons as the muzzle flashes mixed with the lightening. Shane stopped and prepared to turn back. Gunner ran down the line speaking to them in a loud voice. “We just hit a mob head on; stay as quiet as possible, no loud rounds! We have to fight through it, don’t let up.” Gunner slapped him on the back and moved to the next man down the line.
Shane began to panic. He turned and saw Chelsea move in close beside him. “My rifle isn’t suppressed,” she said through the noise of the raging infected.
Shane stood close to her. He pulled Ella from his shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “Ella, I’m right beside you. Miss Chelsea is going to carry you now,” Shane said to her.
Ella nodded and Shane handed her to Chelsea. He removed the M4 from his back and attached the bayonet. He stepped in front of them and prepared to step off. Parker and Joey, who’d been near the back, came ahead with their tomahawks in hand. They saw what Shane did and took flanking positions on Chelsea and Ella. Shane looked at them and dipped his head. “Nobody touches her!” Shane said.
“Roger that, Sergeant; they gotta come through me first!” Joey replied.
Gunner stayed in the back, holding the six position. “Let’s go heroes, we ain’t got all night.”
Shane started off at a jog in the direction of the muzzle flashes. He nearly tripped when his toe caught a mangled body, then side stepped and leapt over a Primal with a shattered head. More bodies stacked up; the muzzle flashes were just ahead. He heard a moan and thrashing of grass. Shane pivoted, spotting one on all fours scrambling up the embankment. To his left, Joey lifted a leg and stomped down with the heel of his boot. Two more came out of the shadows between him and the muzzle flashes. Shane put his weight on his rear foot, shuffle-stepped forward, and plunged the bayonet through the first creature’s head. He then stepped to the side while twisting out the bayonet and bashing the next in the head with the butt stock.
He paused only long enough to make sure Chelsea was still behind him. He picked up the pace to close the gap with the muzzle flashes. He heard the thwack of Parker’s hawk impact the body of a creature. Another crawled up the embankment at an angle; not slowing, Shane veered to the side and soccer kicked it under the jaw, flipping it backwards and down the slope. Ahead, he saw Brooks and Meyers standing side by side. They were canted at opposite forty five degree angles. He couldn’t tell why until he was right on top of them; they were pressed up against a stalled railroad freight car, covering the left and right corners. Brooks heard the group approach and pointed to a ladder on the side of the car without taking his eyes from the field of fire.
Shane ran to the car. He turned back, grabbing Ella from Chelsea, then climbed the rungs, spilling onto the top of the train car. He sat Ella on the center of the roof, then looked back and grabbed Chelsea by the wrist and dragged her to the top. He pulled her over the lip of the car and pointed her to Ella, before reaching down and grabbing the next soldier on the ladder.
Straining, he pulled Joey nearly all the way up before he grabbed the top edge. Joey rolled over the lip and pushed Shane forward to make room. Shane struggled to his feet and found the roof of the train car slick in the downpour. Dropping back to his knees, he crawled forward to the far end of the car and held his position, waiting for Chelsea and Ella to move up behind him.
Chelsea moved slowly, guiding the girl ahead of her then stopped when she was less than five feet away. Chelsea had her rifle up and was looking off to the side of the car, searching the terrain below. Others climbed the ladder and crowded on the roof of the railroad car. Shane could hear Howard complaining and arguing with Gunner who was threatening to slap the shit out of him if he didn’t keep his voice down. Brooks was on his feet and walked down the center of the car. Stepping over the others, he moved up to where Shane was sitting. He turned looking in all directions, and then crouched down next to Shane.
Brooks looked left and right, and then lifted his night vision off his head before dropping it into an assault pack. Meyers moved up the edge of the freight car, inches from spilling onto the railroad bed below. He pushed around Chelsea and Ella and dropped to his rear, sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. He spit over the side then pulled his own goggles off. Shane looked over the edge; it was high, at least fourteen feet off the ground below. When the lightning flashed, it reflected back the cold stares of the Primals below. Shane looked away, unable to handle their gaze.
“That all turned to rat shit!” Meyers cursed under his breath.
Myer dropped his pack and placed it in his lap. He dug for a small canvas satchel and removed a small leather case. He fidgeted with it in the dark. “What is your estimate on sunrise today, Mister Brooks?”
Brooks looked at Meyers confused, he glanced at his watch. “With the overcast and cloud cover; maybe oh-seven-thirty?”
