“We no longer have time for you to finish,” he said. “Let us hope there are no more.”
I began running towards the Humvee determined to stop him, but he was moving too fast. I stopped in my tracks and cringed as he drove into the median and continued on. I didn’t realize that I was holding my breath until he rolled out onto the road on the other side. He had made it all the way across.
Running across behind him, I tried to keep my feet on the tire tracks in the grass. By the time I reached the other side, Bergelmir was already running for the Bison. Marko dove into the Humvee and got ready to back across the median to clear it out of the way for the convoy. Mackey and Butcher had already put one of the bikes in the back of the Bison and were securing it.
“Get in the vehicles,” I yelled. “We’ve got to move, NOW!”
People were already scrambling to get back into the bus and onto motorcycles. Mackey ran to the panel truck and took Pete’s place. There was nothing more we could do for Pete. We could only remember him and move on. We didn’t have time for anything else.
Firing up the engine on the big bike, I vaguely recalled leaving it running when I had left it. One of Butcher’s men must have shut it down to conserve gas. I revved the engine up and pushed the bike up off of the kickstand. Shifting into gear, I prepared to follow after the Bison. The other bikes were following my lead and I could hear the engines of the other vehicles coming to life around me.
The Humvee turned and headed back through the grass on the far side of the road as the Bison headed through the median. The bikes formed two lines and tried to stick as close as possible to the tire tracks that the other vehicles had made. There could still be mines where the tires had not touched and nobody was in any hurry to be the next Pete.
Behind us, the big bus crept into the median. I cringed knowing that the bus’ rear dual wheels might be wider than any of the other tracks. With nail-biting intensity, the big bus lumbered through the median and emerged safely onto the other lanes of the interstate. The next step would be if it could make it through the stand of trees. The Humvee had cleared a path, but the terrain was slightly broken and the big bus wasn’t exactly made to go off-road.
“Keep your fingers crossed,” I muttered as we headed into the trees.
Behind us, the big bus came on like an unstoppable behemoth, shaking dangerously from side to side as it ran over trees and rocks. When we all emerged onto the road beyond the trees, I breathed a sigh of relief. The first major hurdle had been passed and everyone had made it. Even the panel truck had bounced its way through the trees and emerged relatively intact. There were a few sticks in the grill and big scratches down the sides, but other than that it looked to be fine.
“We need to scout a way for the convoy to get back to the interstate,” I said to Butcher.
“How many ways back do you know of?” he asked.
“Well, there are a couple of ways from here,” I said. “We can cross back over the overpass and try our luck on the far side of the interstate, or we can go down the main road here and see if the next exit is blocked. I’m willing to bet that it is.”
“We should send a couple of the bikes each direction and check,” said Butcher. “We each take a radio and report back if we find a usable path.”
“Good idea,” I agreed. “Why don’t you take one of your guys and head across the overpass and I’ll go check the other exit.”
I motioned for one of the other bikers to come with me and put my bike back in gear. Then we headed off towards the next exit down the road. If we were lucky, one of us would find a usable path and we could get back on the road in as little time as possible. If we couldn’t find a way through, we were going to have to make one. Time was running out and the sun kept creeping lower in the sky. None of us wanted to be out here when the sun went down.
Even to be out driving in the dark was dangerous business. We might not see a horde of the dead until it was too late to stop. However, my experience with other groups of the living had been nearly as bad as the dead. Driving in the dark with our headlights on made it far easier to see us coming than it helped us to see the danger ahead. The problem was, we didn’t have anywhere safe to hide for the night.
Our best chance for survival still lay in reaching Bennett Springs. Not even an army of Stalkers could force their way inside there. Once we were secure inside, it would take a major strike from a bomb or heavy explosives to breach those walls. Since the dead weren’t able to use anything like that, we were safe unless the Hrimthurssar found us. If that happened, there may not be anywhere we would be safe.
I knew from having been here before that there were three exits from the interstate that had access to this town. The main entrance to the base was a few miles east of our position, but there were two towns that nearly grew into one that sat right outside the base. St. Robert and Waynesville had grown to the point that they were almost one town. St. Robert was just outside the main gate, but Waynesville’s city limits were almost right up against those of St. Robert.
As we rode south towards the second of the three exits, I began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was just a strong feeling that we needed to hurry and get out of here as soon as possible. It seemed to grow with each passing second. In fact, the farther we got away from the convoy, the worse the feeling became. I had the feeling that who or whatever was lurking at Fort Leonard Wood was coming for us.
When we reached the second exit, I found it was just as blocked off as the first. Concrete barriers and overturned cars prevented anyone from gaining access to town. Since the terrain was heavily broken on both sides of the road, it was unlikely that we could repeat our trick and go around it. No, this time we were going to have to find a better way.
It was possible to cross the overpass, but it was not in any way feasible to attempt to get back on the interstate from here. Not without heavy equipment or explosives, anyway. I doubted that the Bison had enough power behind it to move the heavy concrete barriers. That would take something like a crane or heavy fork-lift.
When we started to cross the overpass, I could see where a section of it had been taken out on the far end. From the look of it, I would guess that it had been done with explosives. I decided to get off of the bike and get a closer look. Parking the bike and heading out onto the bridge I could see where the asphalt had cracked, either from the heat or the force of the explosives.
As I took a few steps out onto the elevated portion of the bridge, I felt it begin to shift beneath my feet. I instantly froze in my tracks and waited for the shifting to subside. I could hear the crackling of concrete and the soft groaning of the suspension girders as they were moving slightly. Once it had stopped shifting, I carefully backed up and off of the bridge. The entire thing had been destabilized. There was no way to safely cross it.
Instead of heading back to the bike, I moved over to check the obstructions on the off-ramp. They were solid and were not going to be easily moved. I couldn’t see any way that we could get through or around this barrier. Unless Butcher returned with better news, I could think of only one way around. That would take us through the main part of the military base and out one of the secondary gates. It was risky, but it might be our only solution.
Returning to my motorcycle, I nodded at the other rider who had come with me. I vaguely recalled that his name was Owen. He wasn’t exactly the talkative type, so I couldn’t honestly remember ever having a conversation with him. In fact, I was pretty sure that Butcher just told me his name. I couldn’t remember ever having heard the man speak.
“We need to get back and let them know that this way is a no-go,” I said, getting on my bike.
Owen just nodded and fired the engine up on his bike and waited to follow me. Firing up my own engine, I put the big bike in gear and began turning around to head back. He was on a much lighter bike and had an easier time turning his bike. Moments later, we were revving up our engines and moving back towards the convoy.
Removing the radio from my pack, I started to key up when I saw something that made me freeze in mid-motion. In the dirt around the edges of the road were numerous footprints all wearing the same type of boot. They were all military-style combat boots. The problem was that out of the entire group, only two of us were wearing military grade boots, myself and Marko. I knew that it couldn’t have been either of us.
After a quick check of the ground around the area, I determined that they had been taken by at least ten men, all wearing military style boots. The only encouraging fact that I could find was that there wasn’t any blood on the ground. They must have taken them without firing a shot. That could only mean that they took them by surprise. Otherwise there was no way that Bergelmir and Marko had been taken without a fight.
“It looks like our people have been taken prisoner,” I said, glancing back at Owen. “The only place that they could have taken them is onto the army base.”
Owen just nodded and glanced back toward the base. His face screwed up into a dark expression as he gazed intently, as if expecting them to just reappear. Reaching into my pack, I took out my collapsing telescope and extended it. Then I began gazing towards the main gate of the base, trying to figure out if they had indeed gone that way. Although admittedly, there wasn’t really any other way that they could have taken.
Turning around to check the direction that Butcher had taken I couldn’t see any sign of him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still out there. I considered trying to reach him on the radio, but immediately thought better of it. Whoever took our people captive would undoubtedly be monitoring the radio frequencies, especially if they found the radios on our people. It would be a good idea to maintain radio silence.
Just as I was about to put the scope back into my pack, I caught a glimpse of movement from across the overpass. Out of reflex, more than anything else, I found myself reaching for the M-4 that was hanging around my neck. Before I had time to bring the weapon up to my shoulder, I heard the familiar sound of motorcycle engines. I watched in relief as the two motorcycles appeared from around a corner in the road.
I was glad that Butcher and the other rider hadn’t been here when the others were captured. Not only was it better to have the extra help, it meant that it was confirmed which direction that the others had been taken. They could only be on the army base. Without knowing how many opponents we would be facing once we made it there, it was anyone’s guess if we could pull this off.
Still, it was better to have four of us instead of just me and the ever-silent Owen. I had no idea how we were going to take on a military base on our own, but we were about to find out. There was no way I was leaving our people behind.
Not now, not ever.
Chapter Twenty
Desperate Times
“If trouble comes when you least expect it then maybe
the thing to do is to always expect it.”
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road
Butcher and I put our heads together and started trying to figure out a way to sneak into the base. I wasn’t all that familiar with the surrounding area, but I knew the roads. I had to assume that they had secured the perimeter or the dead would have run over the place like a steamroller. I doubted that they had an entire division of soldiers there, but there had to be enough to secure a defensible area. What we needed was more information.
“How are we going to get in there?” asked Butcher. “If they had enough men to capture our entire group without firing a shot, then you can bet your ass that we’re outnumbered.”
“We’re going to have to do a bit of recon,” I said, shaking my head. “We can’t just go walking in there and expect to get away with it. If they took our people captive, there’s no reason to think they won’t do the same to us.”
“Too bad we don’t have a chopper,” said Butcher. “We could just fly in and take a look.”
“We’d probably get our asses shot down,” I said, grinning. “We’re going to have to use stealth on this one.”
“Yeah,” agreed Butcher, “but I’m not so great at the sneaky stuff. I ain’t exactly built for it.”
He was right, of course. He was much too big to be an effective ninja. He was built more for causing damage than silence. Then again, I wasn’t the most nimble operator in the world, either. It wasn’t going to be a simple task to just slip onto the base and have a look around. For one thing, none of us could pass for a soldier. Then again, I was wearing the uniform that I had been given by the National Guard, complete with the rank of major. The beard wasn’t regulation, but neither was the rest of the world.
“I have an idea,” I said, frowning. “I might be able to bluff my way inside if I can convince them I’m with the National Guard. I’m not carrying any ID or anything, but it’s not like these are normal circumstances.”
“Or, they might just shoot you on sight,” said Butcher, shaking his head.
“That post is massive,” I replied. “If we go in on foot, it’s going to take us a good long time to search it. We can’t use the bikes, either. They’ll hear those a mile away.”
“Incoming,” said Owen, speaking for the first time.
I’m not sure which surprised me more, the fact that we had an inbound vehicle or that Owen had spoken. Regardless, I turned and looked towards the post. I could see two vehicles were coming our way. They both looked to be Humvees and I noticed that both of them had a gunner in the turret. My heart nearly skipped a beat, knowing that we were in the open and there was no way we would get into a hiding position before they saw us.
The two vehicles were driving in single file, but when they swerved and took up positions next to each other I knew that they had seen us. I saw the gunners work the bolts on their weapons and get into a firing position. There was nothing I could do but bring my weapon up to my shoulder and prepare to return fire. Butcher and the others followed my lead and readied their weapons, as well.
The two Humvees approached to within about fifty yards and came to a stop. The gunners kept us covered, but did not open fire. I was considering our options when a soldier exited one of the Humvees and started walking towards us. He was wearing full combat gear with a helmet. His M-4 was in his hands, but it was not aimed at us.
He stopped about twenty yards away and held up his left hand with his palm towards us. There was a tense moment where we just stared at each other, not sure what to expect. A quick glance at his uniform and I could see that he was a lieutenant. I couldn’t see his unit patch, but I was willing to bet it would be the same as the dead Sergeant I had seen earlier. They were most-likely Military Police.
“I would like to talk to you gentlemen, if I could,” he said, slowly raising his other hand away from his weapon.
Butcher and the others glanced at me and I reluctantly nodded. Slowly, we all lowered our weapons but kept them ready. He might want to talk, but it might also be a trap. Under the watchful gaze of the two men in the turrets, I knew that we weren’t really a match for the two M-240 Bravos that were carefully trained on us. If we acted aggressively, they would cut us to ribbons. We could get the lieutenant, but that would be about it.
“I assure you,” he added, “if our intent was hostile, we would already have opened fire.”
“Alright,” I said, pointing my weapon at the ground. “What do you want? You took our people, so you can see why we’re not exactly convinced you’re here just to chat.”
“Fair enough,” he replied. “I’m Lieutenant Mike McBride. What should I call you?”
I figured it might be worth a try to pull rank on him. Stealth was no long
er an option, since they were already aware of us. I might as well use whatever advantage that I could find. It might work or it might blow up in our faces. Oh well, what the Hel.
“You can call me Major,” I replied, taking a couple of steps forward. “Major Wylie Grant, Missouri National Guard.”
“That’s outstanding, sir,” he replied. “It’s good to find more military survivors. Where is the rest of your unit?”
“We had a FOB set up on the other side of St. Louis,” I replied. “We were overrun by the dead. I managed to escape with three other soldiers, but one of them had been bitten. He turned in our Humvee and killed the other two before I managed to stop it. I flipped our Humvee during the fight.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” he replied. “What about the others?”
“Survivors that I found along the way,” I explained. “I’m the only soldier in the group.”
“I’d like to ask you all to come with us,” said McBride. “We have shelter and food. We can treat any of your wounded and have a safe area.”
“What about your chain of command?” I asked warily.
“We’ve lost contact with anyone outside of this base,” he said. “Our commanding officer is Captain William Parkes. I’m sure that he’ll want to speak to you, as soon as possible.”
“Understood,” I said, nodding. “I guess that we had better go see your captain. We'll follow along behind you. I’m not leaving my bike behind.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “We need to make it quick. This area is secure at the moment, but the dead are still a major threat. We’ll take point and our other vehicle will bring up the rear. Stay between us and we’ll engage the dead, if needed.”
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