by R. J. Spears
“Maybe that will keep them from getting close enough to try to rush us,” Russell said, choking a little on the smoke in the surrounding air. “We need to split up,” he said. “That way they can’t take us both out with the same grenade.”
“This room ain’t that big,” she said.
“It’s better than nothing,” he replied.
“Okay,” she said, but she stopped. “Let me move my guys up next to the door to absorb some of the blast in case they do try another grenade.” She started to press the control buttons on her vest, but jerked her hand away, letting out a little yelp.
“What is it?” Russell asked.
“Just a little shock,” she said. Tentatively, she let her fingertips brush across the buttons again, but she received no shock this time. She shrugged and went back to work. Her remaining zombies shambled into position on either side of the door, acting as fleshy barriers against attack. They were inferior barriers, but better than nothing.
Russell knew they were in a classic stand-off. The room was full of ammunition from the soldiers their zombies had killed, which was a good thing in his mind, but he also knew they were trapped inside the room with no way of escape. The soldiers outside could call in reinforcements to blow a hole in the wall behind them and attack from that direction for all he knew. They could maybe try to attack from above, too, but the floors were reinforced concrete.
Russell knew there were a myriad of ways the soldiers could attack, while he felt the best they could do, was to defend. Somehow, that didn’t comfort him.
If the soldiers outside got really desperate, then they could always set the place on fire and see what he and Maggie did. He didn’t like this scenario, but it was a possibility. A frightening one.
“Sounds like someone just upped the ante,” Jones said quietly, stopping in the hallway. The twin explosions sounded like they had come from just around the corner.
“What should we do?” Jo asked in a near whisper.
“We need to see what is going on,” Jones said.
Kinsler said, “I say we get the hell out of here like we planned.”
“Those are my people fighting for their lives,” Jo spat out.
“Those are my people, too,” Kinsler said, moving in close to Jo. Kinsler had the advantage of having a gun while all Jo had was a half-assed knife made from a piece of sharpened rebar. Still, she seemed ready to tangle with him despite the odds being almost totally against her.
Hold up, hold up,” Jones said. “Let me just check to see what is going on and then we’ll decide.”
He waited until both of them backed down.
He broke with Kinsler and Jo and slid alongside the wall until he reached the corner where he paused for several moments. It seemed like he was working up his courage and finally found it as he craned his neck and head around the corner. He kept it there for only a second or two then pulled it back. A few seconds later, he took a longer glance around the corner. He pulled back again and moved quietly back to beside Kinsler and Jo.
“What we have is two men in one room on the west side of the hall and one in a room across from them. They seemed positioned to attack the soldier’s quarters at the end of the hall.” He paused and wiped a hand across his face. “I have to tell you, there’s at least a couple people dead in the hall.”
Both Kinsler and Jo’s expressions shifted into question marks.
Jones put up a hand for them not to ask anything and said, “I can’t tell who is who, but I know one of them is a soldier.”
Kinsler turned to Jo with a look of hatred, but Jones put out a hand on Kinsler’s shoulder.
“This is totally fucked up,” Jones said. “You know it, I know it. Colonel Kilgore let this whole situation go FUBAR. This was inevitable. Let me see if I can talk our guys down and maybe we can de-escalate this and get everybody including us out of here alive. Okay?”
Kinsler’s face was still suffused with color, but he let out a breath and said, “Okay.”
Jones glanced at Jo who was nearly as angry as Kinsler and asked, “Okay?”
Like Kinsler, she was hesitant about handing over control, but she saw little other choice and nodded.
Jones moved back to the intersecting hall and waited there for a minute, taking glances, watching the soldiers take their peeks outside their rooms. At the end of the hall, he saw shadows moving slightly just inside the doorway.
When it came to taking on a difficult task as a kid, his mother would always say, “There’s no time like the present.” He doubted his mother ever faced down a shootout, but he and his brother used to get into knock-down drag out fights she would have to break-up. His memory of the past faded, and he went back to the task at hand.
He shouted, “Whoever is in the rooms up the hall, this is Sergeant Jones. I’m asking you to stand down. There is no need for anymore shooting.”
It took a few seconds, but a voice responded, “Jones, I thought the Colonel had you locked up?”
“He did,” Jones said, “but I’m out now and this situation has gone bad. There’s no reason to continue to fight these people.”
“That’s not what Corporal Lodwick says,” the soldier responded.
“We can take it up with Colonel Kilgore,” Jones said.
“You’re sort of on his shit list and that’s why you were locked up,” the soldier said. “Besides Kilgore is no longer on site. He put Corporal Lodwick in charge.”
“Where’s Kilgore?” Jones asked, feeling perplexed.
“Off in one of the helicopters, chasing that guy we think is immune.”
Jones heard something shift behind him and glanced back in time to see Jo coming down the hall. He put a hand, palm up, and slapped at her to tell her to stay back and she did stop.
Jones turned back down the hall and said, “Listen, we both know that the Colonel was off his game. We should never be in this situation. It’s time to back down and call it a day.”
“The Colonel says that this guy could save the human race,” the soldier responded. “Besides, I take orders from Lodwick now. It’s you that should stand down.”
Jones noticed a quick movement in the hallway and saw one of the soldiers race across the hall, taking up a position closer to the sleeping quarters were. He knew they were getting ready to make a run for the room at the end of the hall and didn’t know what he could do to stop it. He knew if he didn’t do something, there was going to be a bloodbath.
“They’re coming,” Russell said. “I saw one of them jump into a room. They’re coming for sure.”
“Don’t be a pussy,” Maggie said. “Hells bells, we can handle them.” She didn’t have an idea of how they would, but she could see nerves getting the best of Russell. “If they make a run for the door, I’ll move my deaders up to block the doorway. Before I do that, toss your last hand grenade out there, just to tell them we aren’t fucking around.”
“Okay,” Russell said, his voice tight from the tension.
“No wait,” she said. “I’ve got a better idea.”
Jones saw a head pop out at the bottom of the doorway where the two soldiers were. A man slid the top half of his body outside the doorway and aimed at the open doorway of the sleeping quarters. He would provide cover fire as the other two advanced. It was a classic technique. Jones knew the Manor folks had some skills, but he doubted whether they could face down well trained and well-armed soldiers.
It was time to act.
So, he stuck his head fully around the corner and yelled, trying to address the soldiers. “You need to stand down.”
The man who had been ready to fire on the room, drew back inside. Seconds ticked by and the only movement Jones could see were the shadowy figures standing around inside the sleeping quarters at the end of the hall.
Finally, a voice responded, “What are you going to do if we don’t? You have no authority anymore.”
“That’s irrelevant at this moment,” Jones said. “We don’t need to proceed on this cour
se of action.”
Kinsler grabbed Jones shoulder and pulled him back around the corner, “You need to cut this shit out. We need to get the hell out of here.”
Jones shook him off and slipped his head around the corner, hoping they wouldn’t shoot it off.
As soon as the soldiers saw him, one of them who must have been the leader, a soldier named Prince (Jones couldn’t remember if that was his first name, last name, or a nickname) spoke up.
“Sir, we have our orders. We are here to take them out. As you have probably already seen, they have killed a lot of our men.”
“What choice did they have?” Jones said. “We treated them like prisoners for no reason. Kilgore would have killed every last one of them to gain his objective. For them, it was fight back or die.”
“Listen, we have our orders, and besides, the Colonel removed you from command.”
Jones shot back, “Who gave those orders?”
“Kilgore.”
“The order to take them out?” Jones asked.
“That came from Lodwick,” Prince responded.
“Lodwick’s an asshole of the tenth degree. You can’t follow his orders.”
“That’s who Kilgore left in command and that’s whose orders I’m following,” Prince said and paused for a moment, looked back down the hallway toward the sleeping quarters, then back at Jones. “They killed a lot of good men. They’d got this coming. If you get in my way, then you’ll get what they get. Just go away, Jonsey. Slip into the night and get the hell out of here. I’m giving you a free pass, but just this once. Besides, I’ve already called down to Lodwick. He’s sending up more men. If you don’t leave now, you may not have a choice.”
Jo took a step forward, tugged at Jones’ shoulder, pulling him back towards her, and said, “You can’t let him kill my people. Like you said, they left us no choice.”
Kinsler chimed in, “You saw that hallway. My guys were dead all over it. How many died in the sleeping quarters?”
“Who’s with you?” Prince asked, sounding alarms that Jones was not alone.
“Kinsler’s with me,” Jones said.
“Shit,” Kinsler said. “Why’d you tell him that?”
Jones didn’t respond, but yelled down at the soldiers, “Kinsler’s with me. He sees there’s no point in this, too. We all know Kilgore was off his nut. The way he was acting. We should have never been here in the first place.”
“That’s all well and good, but this is where we are and I have my orders,” Prince replied. “Now, get the hell out of here before it’s too late.”
“You can’t let them do this,” Jo said, her voice cracking from the stress.
Jones wavered back and forth while Jo still held his arm. Stuck between a rock and a hard place didn’t come close to describing how he felt. He had great empathy for the people at the Manor, but he also had been through a hell of a lot with his men. Yes, Kilgore and Lodwick had turned some of them vicious. Prince was one of the rougher ones, but he sounded like he was halfway reasonable. Like he could be talked into something.
Jones shook off Jo’s grasp and focused back down the hall and what he saw caused his mouth to stay open, unable to get out any words.
A lone figure shambled down the hallway thru a thin veil of dust. There was no doubt it was a zombie. Its skin was grayish-black in many places and it was missing an arm and a large part of its side was blown away. A part of his head was missing, too, like a giant dog had taken a bite out of it.
Prince couldn’t help but notice Jones’ stare and turned to see what was coming their way. Like Jones, he was taken aback.
The zombie shuffled along in a broken gait, jerking back and forth like a hobby horse as it moved. Something about the way it walked made Jones think of a small child just learning to walk. Why one of the soldiers hadn’t just blown its head off right away was beyond anyone’s guess, but maybe it was the conversation with Jones that distracted them? Maybe it was the fact that a zombie, missing an arm, looked so harmless?
Jones and the soldiers froze for several seconds and those seconds counted. At least for Maggie and Russell. It took those few seconds for the soldiers to notice the long piece of heavy twine leading off the zombie and back down the hall to the sleeping quarters.
The zombie had closed the gap between itself and the men by nearly ten feet.
“Holy shit,” one of the soldiers said. “It’s got a wire on it.” He started to raise his gun when Russell jerked the twine that led to the grenade the zombie had strapped to its waist.
Chapter 32
Amid the Chaos
The helicopter remained aloft, but smoke trailed from somewhere under the rotors. The gentle spray of sparks from earlier had transitioned into small gouts of flame shooting out from the back rotor. The chopper was also starting to spin in place, albeit slowly, all the while the side gunners fired away, blazing away at anyone on the ground. It was like a flying carousel of death.
At one point, a spray of bullets ripped over my head, chipping away bricks from the building and the only thing I could do was duck and cover.
The bird was coming down. I knew it. The men on the ground knew it. The people inside the chopper knew it. It was only a matter of time.
Whoever had control of the cannon fired it like shells were on sale and that sale was about to end. Explosions sounded all around me, shattering walls, cars, trucks, and people. A wall from the main building collapsed into the parking lot crushing two men. One remained alive, shrieking in pain, which wasn’t the smartest move with zombies around. Screams were like the siren’s song to zombies.
The wandering zombies tuned into the yelling and made a beeline for the pinned man. That’s when the screams got really ugly.
I looked away then.
Marlow was lost in the smoke and flames, but I could see the corner of the administration building was still standing. Smoke curled around it, but it was there, looking worse for the wear.
My challenge was to make it around the burning vehicles, the few men still alive and fighting, and the wandering undead making their way through the parking lot. All the while I had to hope that Kara was inside and that she was still alive. I can tell you one thing -- I didn’t want to make the journey unarmed. So, I scanned the area, looking for any men, alive, dead, or wounded. I would have preferred dead but wasn’t going to be too choosy because time was not on my side.
Although the smoke obscured the lay of the land, I was able to spot one man laying spread out on the ground. Much of his middle was missing from a rip of bullets by the gunners in the sky. A rifle laid just a few feet from his outstretched hand. My task was to navigate my way to it without being, shot, blown up, or eaten. It was no small gauntlet to run.
The best route turned out to be around an overturned truck that happened to be on fire.
Getting my feet moving turned out to be the next hurdle. For any number of reasons, my sane mind wanted to hightail it out of there, but the heart wants what the heart wants. I loved Kara with every fiber in my being and that’s what motivated me to step out of the comfort of my little cocoon of safety - safety being a relative word.
A wall of smoke drifted by me just as I took my first step, filling my lungs and burning my eyes. I rubbed at my watering eyes and coughed a couple times, but kept moving. I was forced to split my attention from the spinning chopper to the men on the ground firing, and the few zombies I could see shuffling around. Anyone of which could kill me. Fortunately, the spin had the helicopter facing away from me with the men firing at it. As for the undead, I felt I could handle them.
The burning truck put out an intense amount of heat, making my flesh feel seared as I cautiously navigated my way around it. Just as I made it past its flaming cab, I got to test my ability to handle a zombie with no weapon, as one spotted me moving. Despite the chaos of the scene, it honed in on me, blocking my path to the rifle.
I felt naked without anything to fight with, but necessity is the mother of invention a
nd I had learned over my days in the zombie apocalypse to improvise. I scanned the area and discovered that the only thing I could find to use were bricks. They were strewn on the surrounding ground. I grabbed two of the closest ones and back pedaled a couple feet to get some distance.
The idea of trying to bash the things head in with a brick in my hand wasn’t all that appealing. If I made any mistake, I’d have my naked and unprotected hand in biting range.
In high school, I had played baseball, making rare appearances at the hot corner, but spent most of my time in the outfield. The coaches had always liked my arm, and I was halfway decent, so it was time to peg the runner out. Usually, that meant throwing the ball to another player who applied the tag, but this time it meant tossing a brick at a zombie’s head.
Let me tell you, the hand-feel of a baseball when compared to a brick is a very different experience. I fidgeted the brick around in my hand until it felt comfortable, finally deciding on a horizontal position across my hand.
The zombie didn’t give two shits about my predicament. All he wanted was to eat. There was nothing new to that. I took no comfort in that idea that at least the zombies were consistent. Wouldn’t it be nice if one day they said they were full? Or that it was time to go on a diet?
No such luck befell me that day.
The bare and broken asphalt wasn’t anything like a pitcher’s rubber either, but I eyed the zombie and started my wind up. The deader started a wind up of his own, putting his arms out and moaning in expectation of a meal.
I reared back, swung my arm forward like an ace starter and let the brick fly.
Bricks don’t act like baseballs in flight, either. They topple and shimmy.
My pitch (if you want to call it that) flew low and inside, clipping the zombie on the thigh, knocking it off course and causing it to stumble slightly. This gave me enough time to transfer the second brick to my pitching hand.
