by R. J. Spears
The coolness of the night air seeped into his bones, chilling them. His joints creaked when he moved and his hip ached like a real son of a bitch, but the worry was worse than any of the physical pain. Madison had been inside for over an hour and each minute felt like an hour in itself.
He knew sending her in was a big gamble. She did make it in without getting shot which was the first big hurdle, but once inside, they were in the great unknown. They could be interrogating her right now. His mind played several horrible worst-case scenarios, but he brushed them aside. They didn’t go easily though. It seems the older you got, the worse the worry grew.
But why would they interrogate a thirteen-year-old girl? He thought. Her story was solid and the likelihood of them checking it before the morning wasn’t too good. After that, it wouldn’t matter. Or, at least, he hoped it wouldn’t matter.
That’s why she had to be the one to get inside. They would listen to her tale of woe and then hand her over to the people at the Manor. At least, that’s what he hoped.
After she made it inside, her role was to let the Manor people know that he would be causing a rather major distraction later. Mr. Schultz had hoped this would allow some of them to break away to the weapons caches he had setup along the edge of the woods.
The plan was full of holes and he knew it. They could send out a random patrol and find him or the weapons. They could lock Madison up. They could shoot him dead after he took his first shot. The pitfalls were endless, but he felt he had to do something. Things were going bad inside and he just knew it. Call it intuition. Call it the universe reaching out to him. Call it God. Call it knowing there was dark magic in the air and it was all getting ready to blow up.
Time was running out. It was time to make a stand.
Chapter 17
Down in the Basement
Maggie concentrated as she pushed her little zombie army down the narrow hallway. They trudged ahead slowly, making her think of an army of toy soldiers, but the ugliest and stinkiest toy army that had ever walked the earth. The same debris she and Russell had walked over on their way in proved challenging for the uncoordinated zombies as they fell again and again. A couple got tangled in the fallen wiring, flailing and pushing to move forward, but not smart enough to know they had to free themselves first.
“Shit the bed, Fred,” Maggie said. “Russell, what are we going to do about those two?”
“Can you get them to back out of the wiring and then move forward?” Russell asked.
“You’re overrating my dark mojo. I can keep them from eating us and make them move in a direction, but I can’t make them do the two-step. We should just leave them hung up.”
“No, we need every one of these dead assholes we can get,” he said. “The more of them, the better our distraction. I’ll see if I can get them free.”
“Well, shit,” Maggie said. The strain of controlling a small herd of zombies showed on her face. It took every bit of her concentration to maintain some semblance of order over things that were really just walking chaos.
“Can’t you work any sort of electronic magic on them so I don’t get my face eaten off?” Russell asked as he started up the pile of debris toward the tangled zombies.
“I’ll do what I can, but my electronic voodoo is only so good,” she said.
It took infinite skill for Maggie to allow Russell to get up-close and personal with the zombies as he untangled them. Their instinct to get at him was almost stronger than the electronic compulsion she held over them. Almost was as close as it got because Maggie focused all her control on those two zombies as Russell lifted electrical cables off their arms and upper torsos. As soon as the last cable slipped away, Russell jumped down the pile and Maggie applied the pedal to the metal, pushing the two lost zombie sheep down the hallway to gather with the zombie herd.
“Geddie-up, there, little doggies,” she said.
“Really?” Russell said.
“Come on, ya’ gotta have a little fun with it, don’t ya’?”
“Now, comes the fun part,” Russell said, “Getting them up the stairs and into the second floor.”
“Don’t remind me.”
They had been so focused on the first part of the plan, which was getting control of the zombies and moving them away from the uncontrolled deaders. They chose to ignore that the back half of their plan was thin, at best. Their desired outcome was to create enough chaos that most of their people could escape. That was the bottom line. The best case scenario was that they might be able to overpower Kilgore’s soldiers and retake the Manor, but they knew that was a pie-in-the-sky wish with little basis in reality.
“Let me lead,” Russell said, not feeling all that comfortable having himself on the other side of a small herd of undead as they led them up a narrow set of stairs with Maggie as the caboose, but he saw little other choice. The damned dead things didn’t know how to open a door, so someone had to do it for them. Maggie was busy keeping them moving, so he was the man for the job.
“Just keep them off my ass,” he said.
“Anything you say, big fella,” she said, giving him a seductive wink.
He ignored her. “Time to head upward and onward,” he said as he entered the stairwell and looked up into the dark for a moment. A year and a half ago, he never conceived that the world would turn upside down with zombies ruling the planet, let alone that he would be leading a small zombie army up a darkened stairwell in some half-assed revolt.
“Shit,” he said under his breath and snapped on his flashlight and started up the stairs
Maggie pushed the zombie soldiers into the stairwell with a series of fine-tuned electronic commands and they complied like obedient school children. Albeit, undead, and flesh-hungry children.
As uncoordinated as they were, they maintained a sense of order as they traversed the stairs and she marveled at their precision. Little Henry had worked some real magic with his new batteries and electronic wizardry.
She even thought, “This shit might just work.”
Chapter 18
A Knock at the Door
The pounding caused Ellen to jump in her seat. It was coming from the door and whoever it was didn’t care that they might wake someone up. Of course, she wasn’t asleep at all. Far from it. Like many of the people at the Manor, she was fully awake and ready. Ready for whatever was going to happen because tonight was the night they made their move.
She was more than nervous and really trending towards fright as she contemplated what was going to happen because no one really knew for sure. It was that uncertainty that had her near the edge. This knock at the door only made her a step closer to it.
She had lost her husband, Greg, already, and that’s why she wouldn’t allow Henry to be on the front line of this insurrection. Or whatever you wanted to call it. He could play his part, but it would be in the background and not any part of leading it.
The pounding intensified and she could almost see the front door of their small apartment shake from the blows.
“I’ll get it,” Henry said, standing.
“No, no, I’ll do it,” she said, holding up a hand to tell him to stay where he was.
She pressed her hands on the tops of her jeans and slid them downward as if she were trying to smooth out the fabric. It was a nervous gesture she had tried to break for years.
“Mom, I can go,” Henry said.
“I said no, and I meant it,” Ellen said and moved toward the door.
Three more loud knocks rattled the door just before she made it there and she jumped a little. “Hold on,” she said, her voice cracking a little as she undid the lock. Henry moved to within five feet of Ellen, holding a small, but heavy piece of metal rebar behind his right leg and out of view. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open.
She let out her breath in surprise and a small bit of shock. Standing at the door was Madison Bloom. Behind her were two soldiers, dwarfing the small girl. Neither of the two soldiers looked all that
happy.
Madison had been gone for days and Ellen had never expected to see her again. In fact, she had hoped she wouldn’t. The girl had left with Joel when the Manor was taken by Kilgore and his troops. The fact that she was back shot a small charge of panic in Ellen. What had happened with Joel? And more importantly, what had happened with Jason Carter?
She didn’t voice any of these things and didn’t get to say anything before the soldiers spoke.
“This girl wandered up to the complex earlier tonight,” one of the soldiers said. “She said her family was dead, and she needed shelter. Colonel Kilgore said we should keep her safe, but we need you to take her in for us. We are soldiers and don’t have time for babysitting.”
Before Ellen could say anything, Madison spoke up, “My name is Madison Bloom, but you can call me Maddie, if you want.”
Ellen knew her name and was almost ready to say that, but some tiny voice inside told her to take Madison’s lead.
“Well, my name is Ellen,” she said, then motioned behind herself and continued, “this my son, Henry.”
One of the soldiers cleared his throat in an obvious sign of impatience.
“Please, come in,” Ellen said reaching out a hand for the girl. She looked to the soldiers and said, “We’ll take her in.”
Madison entered the room, and the soldiers wasted no time, getting into motion before the door even closed. Ellen wrapped her arms around Madison in a tight embrace and Madison returned the hug. Henry stood back, anxious for news from Madison and why she had returned to the Manor.
Ellen released Madison and asked, “Madison, what are you doing back here?”
Madison took a glance over her shoulder, double checking to make sure that the guards were, indeed, gone, then looked back to Ellen and Henry. “Mr. Schultz sent me back. He’s outside in the woods right now with guns. Lots of them. What time is it?”
“Why do you want to know?” Henry asked.
“It’s important,” Madison said. “Mr. Schultz is going to start shooting at the guards on the third floor on the west side of the building at 4:00.”
“What are you talking about?” Ellen asked looking more than a little shocked. “Mr. Schultz must be close to eighty years old.”
“He said he had a dream about what he had to do,” Madison started to talk again. “He’s going to create a distraction at 4:00 AM, hoping he can distract the guards. He wants some of our people to make a run out of the west side of the building. Just inside the edge of the woods, he has some guns for you to fight with.”
“This is crazy,” Ellen said, wiping her hands down the front of her jeans again.
“Where are Joel and the others?” Henry asked.
“They are headed north to Columbus. They left me, Mr. Schultz, and the Benton sisters at the old farmhouse.”
“Do you know where they are now?” Ellen asked.
“No, Joel broke his walkie talkie and we haven’t heard from them.”
“What about this plan of Mr. Schultz’s? Is there any more to it?”
“No, not really. He said he had to do something. Part of his dream was a bad one. He felt like if he didn’t do something now, it might be too late.”
“His timing seems more than coincidental. You don’t know this, but we’re planning a rebellion tonight. How could he know that?”
“He didn’t, but he said he thinks his dream came from God,” Madison said.
Chapter 19
Into the Air
“Where is he?” Kilgore shouted at the soldier named Caldwell who was just a couple feet away causing the soldier to shrink back from the intensity of the question.
“Sir, they said Soto was on his way, but he seemed nervous because he’s not certified on the Iroquois.”
“You tell him, I don’t give a damn. I want him out here in two minutes or I’ll come in and shoot his ass.” Kilgore paused and added, “Make sure you get Meinke out here with his tracking apparatus, too.”
“Yes, sir,” Caldwell said and turned from Kilgore and headed back into the building, glad to be away from the Colonel.
“Get that ammo loaded,” Kilgore shouted at two soldiers carrying two cases of ammunition for the side-mounted machine guns. The two soldiers hastened their pace and scuttled by Kilgore without making any eye contact. Neither of them wanted to look directly into crazy. Not that day. Not that kind of crazy. Not any day.
The two soldiers shoved the cases onto the old Iroquois helicopter and started loading up the machine guns.
The helicopter design for this chopper was long in years, having been developed in 1956 and was used extensively in the Vietnam War. Bell Helicopter kept innovating it over the years, working to keep the Huey relevant, but this one was almost twenty years old. It had almost none of the innovations of the two modern attack helicopters they had lost. It had no advanced imaging equipment, and no built-in night vision. But if there was one fact about it that made it better than the aircraft they had lost -- it was available.
Plus, if push came to shove, Kilgore might be able to fly it.
Kilgore cursed under his breath, taking glances at the door on the east side of the complex every few seconds. The clock was ticking and Jason Carter was within his grasp. Once he had Carter, he would be free of the night visitor. Then, maybe, he could take the little girl and find a place to hunker down to wait out this whole zombie shit storm. He had had enough of leading men. Enough of the responsibility. Enough of being afraid to go to sleep every night.
His hand went for his sidearm and he was about to withdraw it and head inside to get Soto or to shoot him. He really wasn’t certain of which he would do, he was so keyed up.
The door slammed open and Soto popped out into the open, stumbling along while zipping up his flight jacket. He was a squat, dark-skinned man, about five foot eight, and he walked with a pronounced wobble as he was quite bow-legged.
Kilgore’s hand still played on the handle of his gun, almost ready to pull it and start shooting. There were more ways than one to be released from his charge, but the moment passed and he took a step towards the approaching Airman Soto.
“What took you so fucking long, Soto?” Kilgore nearly screamed.
“Sir, I had to review the manuals on the Iroquois,” Soto sputtered out. “I have no flight time with them.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” Kilgore said. “You’ll be fine as soon as we get moving.”
Soto knew it was a lot different from riding a bike. You crack up on your bike and you might get a little boo-boo on your knee. If you crashed an old helicopter, you’d be lucky to walk away alive.
“Let’s go,” Kilgore said taking a step toward Soto and grabbing his upper arm. Kilgore gave him a tug and once Soto was in front of him, he gave Soto a shove toward the helicopter. They made it to the side of the chopper in four steps.
Soto opened the pilot’s door and climbed in, all his motions belying his reluctance and nervousness. Kilgore paced around the helicopter, but stopped by the side and looked in at the two soldiers loading up the machine guns.
“Beltran and Miller, right?” Kilgore asked.
Miller was a tall, beanpole-thin man of twenty-three years, but looked like he was about fourteen, his face fresh and clean. Beltran was thirty-one with deep-set eyes and carried the weariness of a soldier who had been in a war for a thousand years.
“Yes, sir,” the soldiers responded in unison.
“You’re my new side gunners.”
Miller started to open his mouth to say something but knew it was no use. He watched Kilgore’s hand tease his sidearm, not knowing what the Colonel was about to do, but guessing it wasn’t good. He just knew he didn’t want to be on the bad side of the Colonel’s equation.
Beltran let out a silent sigh of resignation and moved to a seat in the back of the chopper, ready for whatever was about to happen. Or, at least, he thought he was.
The selection process was so haphazard, much like the way things had been operating t
he past few days. FUBAR. Men had been deserting. Kilgore’s commands had been erratic, at best. No one knew what was really going on from day-to-day. It was as if the whole ball of yarn was fraying and coming apart.
“Miller, go in and get Meinke,” Kilgore said.
“Miller stood up so quickly he hit his head on the ceiling of the helicopter, winced then said, “Yes, sir.” He vaulted himself out of the helicopter and jogged toward the back of the building.
Kilgore climbed into the passenger seat and strapped himself in.
“Let’s get this thing up and running,” Kilgore said.
“Yes, sir,” Soto said, but he stared blankly at the control panels, trying to orient himself.
Kilgore pointed at a series of toggles on the panel and said, “Flip the first and the third one.”
Soto so badly wanted to come back with, “Do you want to fly this chopper?” but he knew better. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and flipped the toggles and followed those up with several more controls and the sound of the engine started to spiral up. The helicopter rotors started to slowly spin and the whole machine shuttered, calmly at first, but then wildly.
Everyone on board felt as if they were inside a paint shaker set on low for several seconds. A part of Soto hoped that some mechanical malfunction would ground them, but he wasn’t sure that Kilgore wouldn’t blame it on him. The shuttering continued for ten more seconds and Beltran held onto his seat, but there was a loud clunking sound and the helicopter calmed down to a gentle hum.
“There you go,” Kilgore said and some of the tension in his face released.
Miller and Meinke exited the back door of the building and jogged toward the helicopter, bent over instinctively as the blades beat the air above their heads. Meinke held a small electronic device in his hands. They both hopped on board and Miller strapped himself in while Meinke, looking like someone about to have some horrible non-elective surgery, slid in between the two gunners. His expression seemed to say, “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
