"Where?" demanded Nelson, joining the group of men at the far end of his office that doubled up as an operations control area.
The General pointed to the centre screen. "Palermo, thirteen and a half miles south east of Oswego."
One of the thousands of CCTV cameras set up along the entire length of the containment wall brought up the live feed of what was taking place at Palermo. What the group of men saw brought audible gasps from each of them.
#
"Cap, this is Spider," came the team’s guardian angel voice through every ear piece. “I’m in position, Blade and his troops have just stormed the stronghold. He's got a rear-guard in place guarding the vehicles.”
"We are on the service road leading down to them Spider, see if you can distract them.”
"You got it." Spider fixed the crosshairs on the man at the far left of the arc of six men who clearly had not heard the oncoming vehicles which would be over the crest of the rise in seconds. Spider squeezed the trigger and a second later the man ceased to be a problem as the 7.62×51mm NATO cartridge passed through the right hand side of his head, taking most of it with it and slamming the man up against the front of Blade's Pinzer. The five remaining troops dived for cover behind the armoured vehicle as Anderson’s Land Rover sped over the brow of the service road, the other Land Rovers close behind.
One of the remaining five rear-guard troops showed his head for a split second over the Pinzer and nearly lost it as Spider sent a second shell on its way. It gave Anderson and his men time to decamp and form an attacking formation practised a thousand times and in many theatres of combat.
"Talk to me Spider," came Anderson’s voice.
"One down Cap, five behind the Pinzer. Blade is still inside with around 30 troops, make that 35 the rear-guard just slipped away to join him."
"Ok... here’s the plan, any of Blade’s men come through the front entrance persuade them it's not a great choice. Pump’s been in touch with Hog and got the situation and layout inside, seems they’re holding up Blade’s force but they've lost four guys. Leaves them eight including Hog and The Preacher. We're going in to form a Blade sandwich.”
"What about the members of the stronghold?" posed Spider.
"Of no use, they're in the back storeroom, none of them are trained."
"Blade’s gonna be watching that front door," warned Spider.
"Gotta long wait, we're going to blow the side door and come at them at a slight angle. Tom’s already placing the charges."
"Tom's laid the charges," came his friend’s voice. "Just say the word.”
"Blow it Tom," confirmed Anderson.
Chapter 10
"Go to scorched earth”
President Nelson eventually found his voice. The scene at Palermo was his worst nightmare as he watched a tidal wave of WDs streaming through a breach that had to be 50 metres wide. “There has to be hundreds," whispered Nelson.
"Thousands," corrected General White.
"How did it happen?" snapped Nelson, regaining his composure.
"Wall was constructed directly over the line of a sewer, weight was too much for it Sir and it caved in."
"Why the hell wasn't that checked?" demanded Nelson, his anger flaring.
White blushed, he had personally been responsible for the containment wall. "We were building at speed Sir, checking local services maps was low on our list."
Nelson turned to his General, immediately regretting his sharp tone. "I meant no incrimination Chuck. No one worked harder than you to create a safe haven here."
General White simply nodded in acceptance of the apology, he knew the pressure the President was under, a hissy fit every once in a while was to be expected.
The President swivelled quickly back to the screen. "OK, strategy?"
General White moved up beside him and pointed to screen three. "We have a small group of troops at the scene."
The General was correct, it was small. An arc of 30 troops, each armed with a SCAR L (Special Operations Forces Combat Assault Rifle) that carried 30 rounds in its magazine, backed slowly up as the tsunami of WDs lumbered forward. Even with endless magazines that could discharge those cartridges at the rate of 550 rounds per minute there was no stopping the growing swarm.
"Rapid response?” questioned Nelson.
"Airborne 12 minutes ago, distance is 320 kilometres, ETA 48 minutes."
Nelson looked at the centre screen and shook his head. "They're never going to be able to hold them Chuck, we never factored in such a large breach.” Turning slowly, he walked to the window that looked out over private gardens that looked so peaceful, so normal. Without turning, he spoke again, his voice strong, resolute. "Go to scorched Earth.”
General White swallowed. "I need you to confirm that order, Mr President."
"Go to scorched Earth,” repeated Nelson, his gaze remaining on the expansive lawns that were coated with leaves of golden brown, so peaceful, so normal.
#
"Shit!" yelled Hog, as the side door of the stronghold, less than twenty metres to his right, erupted in a ball of flame. Deadly jagged pieces of shrapnel flew across the open space scything down two of Blade's men. Unfortunately for them they had risen to a semi crouch stance to get in a burst of shots towards the Hells Angels decimated team who were struggling to contain the attacking force.
"I see Craig Anderson has decided to join us?" grunted The Preacher, sliding up against Hog, his words all but wiped out by the firestorm that was erupting. The Fort London’s men came through the newly formed opening in a rush, darting left and right, keeping low in a well-practised manoeuvre.
"Yea well a warning would have been nice," yelled the Angel leader, his voice compressed to a whisper within the chaos of the battle taking place within the vast space that at one time was a bustling superstore. Now the only thing left of that was the twenty checkout islands standing in a row at the front of the space, at one end of them Blade and his men were taking cover. The rest of the expansive floor space had been stripped of its shelving and a kind of shanty town of spaces created using plasterboard, taken from a local merchants, attached to timber framing. Here 100 people had formed a commune, only now it was occupied by Hog, his six remaining Angels and The Preacher who had left his flock in the sealed stock room at the back of the store.
Anderson, Tom and twenty of his troops fanned out amongst the checkout tills at the far end of the store where the shanty town of plasterboard started. Tom had remained outside with nine of his crack team to guard the vehicles and keep Hope safe.
#
Blade and his men, apart from the two cut to ribbons, followed instinct and hit the floor when the blast opened up the side of the building. By the time they had recalibrated their thoughts, Anderson and his men were positioned inside and in positions of cover amongst the checkout tills. It didn't stop Blade and his men sending down a message as to the firepower they had at their disposal. "Where the hell did Anderson come from?" hissed Blade to Wishbone.
The leader of the snatch squad shook his head. "I ain’t got a clue. Maybe we should pull out?"
"Maybe you should keep that tongue still before I slice it off," warned the unhappy enforcer. "We take out Anderson and continue with our objective."
Wishbone simply nodded, his mouth tightly closed.
Blade pulled the pin on his last grenade and without lifting his head above the checkout conveyor belt hurled it high in a looping arc towards Anderson and his men. The Preacher saw the deadly missile, stepped from behind a plasterboard wall and raised his Remington 870 12 gauge pistol grip shotgun, a deadly weapon that held two 3 inch shells and one in the barrel. Taking careful aim, he blew the grenade out of its trajectory then threw himself to the ground as his action drew a hail of fire from Blade and his troops that in turn brought a response from Anderson and the team from Fort London.
#
"Cap we got a problem out here," came Spider’s voice into the earpieces of his leader and each of the FL team. "You�
��re gonna have a swarm of WDs coming through the two openings in no more than five minutes time, damn things are coming out of the woodwork."
"You get that Hog?" responded Anderson, his voice overlaid with the staccato of weapon fire.
"Guess they heard about the special offers we got on this week."
"No time to explain Cap but you need to get our guys away from the door you opened up and then you need to drive Blade and his mongrels out through the front door they came in by."
Anderson lifted himself up for a second and sprayed the top of the checkout counters at the far end of the giant hall before answering. “Whatever you got planned Spider make it quick. OK, all teams break for the area where Hog and The Preacher are bunkered down. Some cover fire would be good Preacher," finished Anderson.
"Ask and you shall receive," responded the black giant.
"Tom," called Spider. “We need to sacrifice one of the Land Rovers, get one jammed into the opening Cap opened and place a couple of fuel cans this side of it so I can get a bead on them.”
Inside, Anderson and his team broke cover and made darting, zigzagging runs to join Hog and The Preacher within the edges of the shanty town. Anderson and his team fired on the move and the Angel and his team gave cover fire as best they could but the incoming wave from Blade and his men ripped the plasterboard walls to shreds and smashed the timber frames into splinters.
“Time to get Blade’s attention,” whispered Spider to himself, as he sent a round into the cans piled at the side of the Land Rover. The booming explosion shook the building, the erupting ball of flame engulfing the Land Rover. The resulting fire would burn for some time and keep the WDs from getting through in the short term. Next he turned his sights onto the arc of vehicles abandoned by Wishbone at the front of the building. It took three rounds to find the fuel tank on the first truck which took the second with it as the ball of flame mushroomed out.
#
"Get six men outside now," bellowed Blade at Wishbone. “Bastards are taking out the transport."
Wishbone allowed the other men to run out first to draw the fire and then ran to the back of Blade’s Pinzer. Reaching in, he grabbed the second rocket launcher. He knelt down at the side of the Pinzer and studied the roofline of the buildings opposite, he knew the Sniper had to be up there somewhere. "You," he shouted, pointing to one of his men ten metres to his right. "Get over here."
The man hesitated, bobbing his head up to study the buildings opposite.
"Shift your arse," he snapped.
The man broke cover and ran towards him. Wishbone lifted the tube onto his shoulder and watched the roof line. A loud crack preceded the man being flung into the burning truck as he passed the back of it. "Got you,” hissed Wishbone, taking aim at the spot where he had seen a bright flash.
#
Spider saw the movement to the right of the man he had slotted, his Leopold picked up the tube and a bright flash. "Shit," he screamed, turning and throwing his rifle down the wooden stairway behind him. He followed it as the rocket smashed into the side of the building, demolishing the entire facade and sending a shower of bricks and debris down after the sniper.
“Let’s drive’em out,” ordered Anderson. Every man in his troop along with Hog and his team and The Preacher poured shells into the checkout tills where an equal amount of return fire decimated the flimsy plasterboard walls that provided scant cover for the defending squad. A stalemate was developing with Blade refusing to budge, completely unaware that a swarm was about to sweep down from the various access roads leading down to the superstore.
"If we don't shift that bastard," yelled Hog, “we're gonna have our late shoppers pouring in."
Before Anderson could reply, The Preacher jumped. “Get ready to move Craig Anderson. Bull on me." Turning, he ran back into the warren of plasterboard walls with Bull close behind him.
"What the hell is he up to?" shouted Hog.
"Not sure, but pass the word to get ready to move forward."
Just as he finished speaking, The Preacher and Bull came crashing through a plasterboard wall twenty metres down, outflanking Blade, like a couple of wrecking balls. The Preacher had his Remington in one hand, his Glock18C hand gun in the other set on automatic mode that would empty the mag through the 4.6 inch barrel in seconds. Bull's MP5 also set on auto played back and forth amongst the checkout tills, cartridges ricocheting off all of the surfaces.
"On me,” yelled Anderson, breaking cover and sprinting forward, firing from the waist.
"Blade we got WDs coming in from every direction," came Wishbone’s voice in the enforcer’s ear.
"Out!" yelled Blade, scampering low towards the front doors, shells erupting all around him. The last two men out dropped grenades on the ground as they left.
"Down!" yelled The Preacher, throwing himself behind checkout four.
Blade gathered his troops into two of the Daf trucks and the Pinzer and swept up the main road ploughing into the hordes of WDs who clearly had not studied their Highway Code.
Tom ran to the side of the trailing truck and sprayed a four second burst from his MP5 into the cab, bringing the vehicle to a halt as it veered and smashed into a tree, stalling the engine. Running to it he pulled open the door, grabbed hold of the lifeless driver’s ankle and yanked out the corpse. Climbing aboard, he broke out the remainder of the windscreen with the butt of his rifle and started the engine.
"We need to plug this opening," came Anderson’s voice into every ear piece.
"Plug on its way,” yelled Tom, the engine screeching as he reversed at high speed towards the opening. “Stand clear."
The Daf T45 4x4 troop carrier slammed into the opening like a cork sealing the entrance, narrow gaps around were quickly sealed by the troops inside using timber from the walls of the shanty town as Tom jumped from the cab and ran towards the remaining Land Rovers.
"Nice job Tom," awarded Anderson, seeing his long-time friend run past on the outside of the huge heavy duty plate glass window fronting the store that had a heavy gauge roll down steel grill on the inside that kept the store secure yet let in daylight and allowed a clear view to Anderson on the inside of the store.
Tom saw his friend and team leader through the glass and gave him an exaggerated salute as he came level. His features reflected the disbelief he was feeling as Anderson lifted his MP5 and fired through the plate glass at him, or at least close to him. The spray of cartridges scythed into the group of WDs directly behind Tom, whose features quickly changed to a mix of relief and embarrassment. Relief that his friend had not become psychotic and embarrassment that he had not seen the WDs coming. A high pitched scream to his right wiped his smile. Thirty metres away, the rest of the troops he had left guarding the Land Rovers and Hope were pouring cartridges into the oncoming swarm. The Land Rovers were well guarded, Hope wasn't. She had spotted Tom coming and had slipped out to run to him, problem was a dozen WDs had blocked her path and were about to descend on her. Tom began to run, screaming at the top of his voice. "Noooooo!" He was unable to shoot for fear of hitting the child but he could not cover the distance in time to reach her.
Anderson looked right as Tom suddenly took off and immediately saw Hope running towards him but coming to a skidding halt as the pack of WDs closed on her. Running on the inside of the plate glass window the FL security chief came level with her and banged on the grill but like Tom he was unable to fire for fear of hitting her. Spotting him, she pressed up against the grill and screamed to him for help, her voice lost in the storm of the firefight taking place outside and with the thickness of the plate window. Looking left he saw that Tom was cut off by another group of twenty or thirty WDs. Anderson was distraught, he was about to see the child he loved as his own torn apart before his very eyes.
Chapter 11
"Take the Shot"
Boardman stumbled into the building that housed his research and holding pens, he had slept for five hours after taking way too big a snort of his own creation, W
hite Lightning. These days it was the only way he could sleep and even though he knew it was wrecking his brain, and his body, he couldn't stop and in truth he was getting to the point where he didn’t care. One of his assistants had been told to bring the latest Mutant out of the induced coma an hour earlier, prior to that the implant device that transmitted instructions directly into its troubled brain had been fitted. Had Boardman not completely ignored the Mutant as he stumbled in, he would have noted that it was sat up on the steel table it had been previously lying on when Boardman had left for his sleep. The creature's eyes followed the scientist as he walked to a small kitchenette area. Boardman needed coffee, the experiment would be a waste of time, he was convinced of it. As he walked back taking tentative sips of the scalding black fluid, he came to a sudden halt, the Mutant was compliant. It should have been smashing into the bars trying to get to him, but it wasn't. He moved quickly to the small table where his laptop sat and placed down the mug, his heart racing slightly as he noted all the characteristics in the creature that his successful Mutants would be expected to display but...... Could it be that he had stumbled onto the answer to Mutant creation, could it be that he had succeeded in the crazy boast he had made to Bruger that he would find an alternative to the child’s blood? Clicking on his laptop, he tapped his fingers impatiently as it booted up, he then selected a voice file, the voice was created by Bruger. Within the file were a list of instructions that should get the creature to react but first he had to try something. Stepping up to the bars he looked directly at the creature and in a clear strong voice called, “Stand up.”
Bravo Two Zombie (Book 3): The Final Solution Page 7
