Pulling the vehicle to a sharp stop right inside the gate, I climb out and scan the airfield and surrounding tree line while Mira rouses Harbin in the back seat. She pulls him gently from the car, his steps wobbly and uncertain.
The first rays of dawn are peeking over the horizon, casting the sky with a purplish hue.
“Almost home free now, Mr. Harbin,” Mira shouts over the drone of the engines.
For an instant, there's a flash of light in my peripheral vision to the left. I’m about to turn in that direction when a massive explosion shakes the ground. The force crashes into us, knocking us to the ground, heat waves rolling over and around us.
It takes me a few moments to gain my bearings, my ears ringing, but as my senses clear, I become aware of several things at once. The jet is now lying on the runway in a flaming heap. Mira and Harbin are both on the ground next to me. Mira is moving. Her head whips back and forth as she assesses the situation like me. Harbin has come alive and is screaming bloody murder. My first thought is that he’s reacting to the explosion, until I hear a sharp whiz and thunk as a bullet hits him in the chest and exits through his shoulder, spraying blood onto the concrete drive. I dive on top of him and notice another hole already in his leg, spurting blood from a second entrance wound.
I calculate the last bullet’s trajectory without conscious thought and raise my gun up and behind me to where the top of the small control tower sits not one hundred yards off. Without even looking, I squeeze off several rounds as Mira rises to a crouch and does the same, following my lead. I drag Harbin back towards the car while he curses and screams, blood pouring out of him like a sieve.
Mira follows behind us, and I crouch with Harbin on the passenger side of the car, cutting off the sniper’s direct line of view. Harbin is trying to control his screaming now as Mira begins putting pressure on his leg and chest. He moans, pain and terror etched on his tired features. Things are getting bad, fast, and they keep getting worse as two shots ring out and the car slumps to the left, both tires on that side taken out by the gunman.
“We can’t stay here. We need to get to the tree line,” I shout. The trees begin about forty feet behind us. Forty feet that might as well be two hundred with a sniper sitting in the tower. I’ve got to come up with a plan and quick, or else we’re going to be lunch meat.
Mira looks at me and our eyes meet. For a few moments she has an odd expression on her face before she lets out a long sigh and says she has an idea. As if to punctuate the urgency of our situation, the rifle of our attacker cracks again and a bullet slams into the hood of the car just inches from her head.
Harbin is bleeding profusely and I know we’ve got to try to get him somewhere where we can stabilize him, if that’s even possible at this point. He doesn’t have much time before he bleeds out.
Mira reaches up and pulls open the passenger door, careful to keep her head below window level. She braces her foot against the car’s frame. Straining a little and grunting, she pulls down and out, and I look on incredulously as she yanks the door off of the car.
“What the…how did you do that?”
“No time for that right now,” she says. “Here take this.” She holds out the door like she’s handing me a pencil. I’m still staring at her in shock.
“I said take it!” she says, snapping me out of my stupor. I grab the car door from her as she bends over and lifts Harbin onto her back like he weighs no more than a twig. She stays low in a crouched position, adjusting the angle at which she’s carrying Harbin.
“Use that to cover us,” she says. She takes off for the tree line and I backpedal behind them keeping the door between us and the sniper as much as possible. I fire multiple shots around the side of the door, enough to hopefully keep the sniper off balance, but the rifle cracks and a bullet plows into the grass beside me. Another shot whizzes overhead, and still another actually pings into the car door.
We’ve reached the tree line now and the underbrush is thick. The rifle shots cease as quickly as they began. I drop the door and we dodge between trees, slipping on pine needles and hurdling fallen branches. Mira moves deeper and deeper into the woods, Harbin still slung over her back.
I can hear shouting behind us and glance back through the foliage to see an armed contingent of five men running from the tower in hot pursuit.
“Mira, we’ve got company,” I say. I’m still reeling from what I just saw her do. I’ve got to get my thoughts together or it’s going to get us all killed. Her head whips around to take in the new scene. “I’ll take care of them; you need to get Harbin as far away as possible.” She pauses long enough to nod.
“Be careful,” she says, and she’s off again, Harbin whimpering on her back from the jarring impacts of her footfalls.
I throw an internal switch, willing myself to forget what I've just seen, and allow my training to kick in, focusing on the immediate danger. I take mental note of how many shots I've fired. I'm getting low on ammunition. We didn’t come heavily outfitted. Our main goals were stealth and speed. I have one more ten round clip, and one bullet left in the chamber of my sidearm. I have no idea where my other gun is. Probably dislodged by the explosion.
I eject the magazine from my remaining gun, and slap the other one in. Moving as quickly and quietly as possible to my left, I creep around and away from the soldiers, making them my only focus, letting everything else migrate to the back of my mind. I catch glimpses of them through the thick undergrowth as I move. They’re coming in a “v” formation, fanning out as they go, cautious but fast.
I’m almost behind the nearest one now. The man in the lead is tracking Harbin’s blood trail. I wait for them to come into the line of sight between the tress where I'll have the best advantage, and rapidly squeeze off two shots, dropping two of them dead, before rolling to my right behind a large pine as the other three come to bear on me, taking cover as well. They fire wildly, knowing my general direction, but not my exact location.
I crouch as near to the ground as possible and peer around the side of the tree. I know the location of two of them, doing their best to squeeze behind trees, but not good enough. The third isn’t visible. I take aim at the first man, whose boot is sticking out from behind his tree just a little too far. I pull the trigger and the gun bucks in my hands, the man’s boot exploding with a spray of red. He screams and instinctively leans towards his foot and that’s when my second bullet catches the top of his scalp and slings him to the ground.
There are muffled shouts from the other two, and I’m able to pinpoint the location of the third gunman based off of what I hear. The language isn't familiar to me. I try to make sense of that fact, but I don't have long to consider before fate throws me a bone.
Two Festers plunge headlong from the west towards the nearest gunman, careening down a steep ridge not thirty feet away from him, their crazed expressions oblivious to the weapon held by the man. I’m surprised to see them out in the morning light, but prepare to take full advantage of the tactical advantage they're giving me. Thankfully, they’re closer to my enemies and haven’t seemed to notice me.
The first gunman raises his gun to fire at the leading Fester that’s homing in on him like a missile, and I put a bullet cleanly through his palm, his gun flying away. He cries out in pain and has no time to recover before the Fester is on him, driving him to the ground, teeth and fingernails slashing savagely. The other Fester heads towards the last man who tries to keep his cover behind a large boulder, but the creature continues to charge despite taking two bullets in the chest.
The Fester’s momentum carries him forward and he collapses on number three, his weight forcing the man to the ground, and I spring forward as he struggles to free himself. The Fester is still alive and grabs the man by the neck, clawing away most of his throat and sinking his teeth into the man’s shoulder. I approach from behind and put them both out of their misery, turning back to the remaining man being eaten alive by the foul smelling creature on top of him. The Fes
ter notices me for the first time and leaps at me, but I react like lightning and catch him in mid-leap with a slug to his chest. He collapses, lifeless.
I move over the last man.
“Who are you?” I say, pointing my gun at his forehead. “Who sent you!?” I need answers from this guy, but it's wishful thinking. He couldn't tell me anything now if he wanted to. He tries to gurgle something, his jaw smashed and hanging grotesquely sideways. He makes a wet-sounding gasp, and the life drains from his eyes. He lies there, staring eternally up into the treetops.
I swear and take off at a run in the direction I last saw Mira and Harbin. Just because these guys are out of the fray, doesn't mean they don't have backup.
Mira's covered a lot of ground in a short time, and I'm forced to follow the blood trail myself, piecing together what I've seen as I run.
Whoever these guys were, they knew we were coming, where we would be, when, and with who. The whole thing screams inside job. And they didn't want Harbin for themselves. They wanted him dead. Then there's the language issue. It's possible they were multilingual Americans, but that seems unlikely. The most likely scenario is that they were foreign, and military, a theory made all the more disturbing by the rarity of intercontinental travel.
By the time I reach Mira and Harbin at the top of a small rise, I can see he isn’t going to make it. Mira is crouched over him where she has propped him up against an oak tree. His current injuries on top of what he’s endured over the last several days, are too much for him to recover from. I know this in a glance.
Still trying to apply pressure to his wounds, she catches my eye as I approach and shakes her head with a slight negative. I kneel beside them as well. Harbin’s face is deathly pale and his breathing is ragged. He reaches up and places a bloody hand on my chest, his voice a raspy whisper as he tries to form words.
“Easy. Just try to stay calm,” I say.
He looks at me with full knowing in his eyes. “Too late,” he sputters. “Too late… for me.”
I hear movement in the distance and Mira rises, moving in the direction of the sound. I stay beside Harbin, that funny feeling in my gut returning as I look at him lying there, his life ebbing away. I can’t help but feel there’s something so familiar about him.
Without warning he grabs me with both hands, pulling me close, his grip surprisingly strong, and starts speaking hurriedly, intensely. His words shake up everything about my world!
Chapter 14
Mira
By the time I get back to the top of the hill, Harbin isn't moving and Cray is standing there looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, like somebody has stunned him into stupidity. Did my little stunt really affect him that bad? He doesn’t even know the half of it.
“We have to move, we’ve got problems,” I say from behind him, taking in the scene. “Is he…?”
“Dead,” he finishes in a daze.
He continues to stand there, staring. “Cray.” Nothing. “Cray!!”
He turns to look at me. “We’ve got incoming, dozens of Festers moving our way, too many to take on. We have to get away from here, now.”
He finally seems to pull himself together, like the light comes back on behind his eyes.
“Follow me,” He says, suddenly the cunning warrior again. We memorized the layout of this area in reviewing for the mission, and I know there used to be a small residential area about half a mile from here to the east. It’s our best chance of finding shelter, and that’s exactly the direction he’s heading. We certainly can’t risk the airfield. Who knows what else could be waiting for us back there?
Branches and thorns swipe at our faces and legs as we careen through the woods, and I have to hold back not to outrun him. I would never leave him behind. He’s fast, but he’s still fighting for every step of distance he can put between us and the Festers, their chase becoming ever louder and closer. Both of us have to be running low on ammo by now and it would be stupid to try to take on that many hand to hand. We’ve gotta find someplace safe.
Up ahead, I can see the morning sunlight peeking through an opening in the woods, and just beyond that, the shapes of houses lining either side of a forlorn street. Any dwellers with any sense would have long since moved to the cities or been killed, but we might be able to find safety in one of the houses.
“There!” He points to a house a couple of doors down on our left. From here, I can see the door is open. The Festers are hard on our heels now, their animal noises right on top of us. It’s not until we start racing up the small driveway that I realize Cray’s not going to make it in time, and neither will I.
Something grabs my shirt and jerks me hard. Spinning as I trip, I kick into the chest of the infected, its foul breath puffing from its lips from the impact as I use my leg and momentum to launch it up and over my head. Before I can move, another one grabs my arm and pulls me up, my gun clattering to the ground. I spin into the pull and smash my left elbow into his temple, his grip loosening as he falls unconscious.
Somewhere close, I hear Cray’s gun firing off a steady rhythm, and the painful screams of his victims, but I’m surrounded, and I can’t see him as I thrash against the wave of freaks surging against me like a tsunami. I swing with all of my might, felling two and three Festers at a time, but it’s not enough. There are just too many of them.
I can see Cray off to my left now, kicking and lashing at the creatures, his gun nowhere to be seen. A large Fester flies at him and smashes into his side, driving him to the concrete driveway, his head slamming into it with a sickening smack.
He’s out cold and in a second the freaks will start to tear at him like a piece of meat. I scream like a mad woman and plow into them with all the force I can muster while still dragging my previous attackers behind me. The force is just enough to buy Cray some space, and I spin wildly to throw off the ones still clinging to my clothes. I grab Cray’s limp hand and drag him to the open door, slinging him inside with one hand while I kick a charging Fester squarely in the sternum. I feel the bones in his chest shatter as he flies backwards into his pals.
By then I’m through the door and slamming it shut, thankful that it still has a working deadbolt. Quickly scanning the room, I see that the previous occupants had the windows boarded up before they left. I sprint through the small house and verify the others are the same.
The Festers are screeching and banging on the outside walls and the door. I need to reinforce it. Crossing to the open dining area, I grab the table and find handholds on the underside, feeling a rush of satisfaction when I pick it up. It's old construction, sturdy, two hundred pounds easily. Maybe not much for a Fester, but better than something lighter. I jog across the room and plop it down in front of the door, careful not to set it on Cray's legs. I grip his shirt and pull him deeper into the living room out of the way, grab the arm of the couch with my left hand, and sling it against the table.
Cray's head is bleeding profusely, but at a quick glance, it appears to be superficial. I stand for several minutes, as long as I dare, to make sure the barricade holds, but I finally can't wait anymore. Cray needs tending to.
The creatures continue banging outside, but the walls hold, and I move back to Cray, sinking down beside him with a deep sigh. First things first. I go to work on the ugly gash in his scalp to stop the bleeding. I’ll have time to think about everything that just happened later.
Chapter 15
I sit beside him on the bed and watch his chest rise and fall as he dozes. Heavy scars snake across his torso, the proof of countless battles fought.
He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way. Not beautiful in the classic sense, but he has an inherent manliness, strong jaw line, and powerful shoulders. But there’s also his boyish shyness, and a gentleness in him, something deep inside that peeks out from underneath the tough exterior. It’s this combination that makes him fascinating to me. He’s probably the most lethal person I’ve ever met, and yet there is nothing twisted about him. He simply is what he i
s.
He wakes with a start. “Mira!?”
I place my hand lightly on his bare chest and shush him, his skin warm and smooth and prickly with hair. He must shave it, and for some reason, that makes me want to giggle. “I’m right here. We’re safe. At least for now. Lie still. You took a pretty good beating.”
That’s an understatement, I think. The gash on his head’s a mess and his left side looks like a bruised prune where the Fester tackled him. I’m sure he’s gotta have some broken ribs. He tries to sit up and instantly regrets it, moaning in pain.
“Where am I?” he says, plopping back down onto the shredded mattress.
I glance around me. “I believe we’re in the guest bedroom of our temporary shelter,” I say.
“How long have I been out?”
I can’t resist. “Two days.” His horrified expression almost makes me feel guilty. “Just kidding.” I look at my watch. “It’s only been a little over an hour.”
He sighs and it turns into a grimace, but he looks at me suddenly, intensely.
Great, here we go.
I sit there without flinching even though I know what he’s thinking. An endless minute passes before he speaks again, and I can imagine the wheels in that suped-up mind of his spinning.
“How did you do that with the door?”
The Night Sweeper: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 7
