Surviving the Dead 03: Warrior Within

by James N. Cook

She nodded, and made a twirling gesture with one finger. “Gabe, I’m a doctor. I know how to keep a secret.”

  I took the teacup she handed me. “I’m leaving tomorrow on a rescue mission to find Eric. We’re bringing him home.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stood there staring. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s alive,” I said. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  Allison took that in, and sat down at the table. “It’s been so long. I was starting to think …”

  I reached out and covered her hand with mine. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  She smiled at me, bringing some of the old light back into her eyes. “So where has he been all this time? I know he was sent to spy on the Legion, but no one will tell me anything else about it.”

  “You weren’t even supposed to know that much, Allison. Who else have you told?”

  She shook her head. “No one. Captain McCray and Elizabeth are the only two people I’ve asked, and they already knew what was going on. They both told me the same thing. That I wasn’t supposed to know about Eric’s mission. I’ll tell you what I told them. I don’t give a damn.”

  “Allison …”

  “No, seriously Gabe. I’m sick of this cloak-and-dagger shit. I’ve kept my mouth shut because I don’t want to put Eric in danger, but enough is enough. I bust my ass to help the people of this town, I do whatever is asked of me, and it’s about goddamned time people started giving me some answers.”

  She leaned across the table and fixed me with an icy glare. “Tell me what’s going on, Gabe. Tell me, or by God, don’t you ever walk through my door again.”

  I met her gaze, and felt my will to argue die on the vine. To be honest, she had a point. If there was anyone I could trust on this matter, it was her. No one cared about Eric more than she did, and her loyalty to Hollow Rock was without question. Being that she was a doctor, she knew all about confidentiality.

  So I laid it all out for her, as much as I knew, anyway. When I finished, she sat in silence, chewing on her lip.

  “This better work,” she said, her voice trembling. “This better be worth it, or there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  “You should be proud of Eric. He did a brave thing. Most people wouldn’t have had the courage.”

  “I know.” She deflated with a sigh. “And I am.”

  I walked around the table and looked down at her. It always caught me by surprise, the things people turn into. Doctors, and leaders, and villains, and everything in between. Allison was one of the good ones, and this town was a better place for having her in it.

  “I need to head out. You should get some rest, you look tired.”

  She stood up then, abruptly, and took my hands in hers. Even though her fingers barely made it around the edges of my palms, her grip was strong. She stared at me hard, pulling my arms down so that I had to look at her.

  “Promise me, Gabe. Promise me you’ll bring him home safe.”

  I looked away, avoiding her eyes. My mother had always warned me against making promises I couldn’t keep—some people never forgive that sort of thing—but sometimes, you just have to be a good friend. You have to tell people what they want to hear, even if you aren’t sure if you can deliver on it. Besides, if I didn’t bring Eric home, it would be because I had died trying.

  “I promise, Allison. If he doesn’t come home, neither will I.”

  Her eyes searched mine for another moment. Finally, she nodded and wrapped her arms around my waist. It occurred to me that women seemed to be hugging me a lot more often lately.

  “Be careful, Gabe. I want both of you back here alive.”

  “I’ll do my best, Allison. You can count on that.”

  I left her house, and made my way back to the camp. It was well after dusk by the time I got there, and the militia was bedding down in the barracks for the night. Quietly, I unlocked the armory and slipped inside, looking for one crate in particular.

  I found it near the back of the small building, nestled between two shelves full of ammo and piled on top with boxes of grenades. After working it out from the bottom of the pile, I placed it on a workbench and opened the lid.

  Inside, was an LWRC M-6 chambered for the hard-hitting 6.8 SPC. It was more powerful than a standard M-4, but not as bone-jarring and loud as my SCAR. Steve had special requested the M-6 for me from Central Command, and it was perfect for the mission I was about to embark on. I cleaned it, fitted it with a specially designed suppressor, and from a crate containing 2000 rounds, I loaded the twelve magazines that came in the box with it.

  From another crate, I retrieved an Aimpoint optical sight, night-vision scope, FLIR thermal imager, and a Crimson Trace laser sight, just in case things got up close and personal. I walked down to the range and put the weapon through its paces, zeroing it and getting used to its feel. It fit me like a glove. I might even have liked it better than my trusty old SCAR. Finished, I cleaned it again, and slung it over my shoulder to bring it home with me.

  “Thanks, Uncle Sam.” I chuckled on the walk back to town. “This will do just fine.”

  Part IV

  The only reason a warrior is alive is to fight, and the only reason he fights is to win.

  -Miyamoto Musashi

  The Book of Five Rings

  Chapter 23

  The Journal of Gabriel Garrett:

  Own the Night

  One o’clock in the morning is a bad time to be awake, but a good time to set out on a stealth mission.

  Captain McCray arranged with Central Command to send an HH-60 Pave Hawk to be our air support during the operation. Designed for spec ops missions in denied areas—which was exactly what we were doing—it was the perfect transport to get us into Legion territory undetected.

  It took the pilot twenty minutes of skimming the trees to bring us within five miles of Eric’s transponder signal and drop us in an uninhabited patch of forest. Once on the ground, we wasted no time putting distance between us and the LZ.

  Great Hawk took point, keeping track of Eric’s signal, while I hung back and used my optics to keep an eye on our Six. The goggles we’d been issued were beyond top of the line; I’m not even sure if they existed back when I was in the Marines. They combined thermal imaging with night vision, giving me the option to switch back and forth, run them concurrently, and adjust intensity between the two with a resolution unlike anything I’d ever seen. If any creature living or dead showed up within a kilometer of our position, line of sight providing, I would be able to see them. Steve had admonished me to take care of the high-tech optics, citing that the Army didn’t have very many of them, they were in high demand and, in pre-Outbreak terms, they were more expensive than most people’s houses. I think he was more concerned about getting his gear back in one piece than he was about me.

  Eric’s signal was coming from a cluster of buildings just south of Carroll County airport. The Pave Hawk had dropped us off east of his position, which gave us a buffer zone from the nearby town of McKenzie. Most of the people in that town had fled across the Mississippi during the Outbreak, but there was still a strong undead presence in the area. Being that we were moving at night, the risk we were taking on this op was considerable. The only thing working to our advantage was the fact that, for reasons not understood, the undead don’t moan at night until they are right on top of you. With our advanced optics, as long as we saw them before they saw us, we could put them down without trouble. Still, if we attracted a horde, we might have to abort. That was the last thing I wanted to happen.

  As we made our way toward our goal, ghosting through the woods on silent feet, I couldn’t help but be impressed with Great Hawk. He was the first person I had ever met who could move through dense forest as quietly as I could—maybe even quieter. There were times when, after checking our flanks, I had to scan carefully to find him in the darkness. Even with the thermals giving away his heat signature, he was doing a good job of staying hidden. If I had just been using NVGs
, I might not have seen him. I decided he would be a bad person to have as an enemy.

  Rather than approach our destination in a straight line, we cut a meandering path that would make us more difficult to follow. Our GPS devices kept us on course, and roughly two hours after roping down from the helicopter, we had a visual on our objective.

  Calling it a town would have been too generous. It was nothing more than a collection of buildings that straddled the highway. The kind of place that used to scrape out a living selling gasoline and cheeseburgers to commuters. A bastion of the homogenized American way of life. I used to sneer at these places, deeming them feeding troughs for the fat, mindless sheep of our society. Now, I would have killed for a Big Mac.

  A deep voice said, “I think he is near the McDonald’s.”

  I almost jumped. Turning my head, I saw Great Hawk’s shadowy form crouching beside me. He was wearing a ghillie suit, his exposed skin was streaked with black and gray face-paint, and he was studying a small touch-screen device with a dim, green-lettered display. Like me, he was wearing a pack under his camouflage, which made him look hunched and ungainly. The last I’d seen him, he’d been twenty yards ahead of me.

  “Is he moving, or stationary?” I asked.

  “Moving. He is awake. You should take a look.”

  I knelt down to set up a spotting scope. The scope was even more impressive than my goggles, boasting better resolution and longer range, but those advantages came at a cost—it ate batteries like candy. Consequently, Great Hawk had warned me to use it sparingly. I peered through the lens and spent a few minutes studying the restaurant at the end of the street.

  Adjusting the scope to full thermal, I counted six bodies on the roof. Four of them appeared to be sleeping. Two others walked side by side around the edge, no doubt keeping watch. Since his signal wasn’t stationary, one of them had to be Eric.

  “Can you tell which one he is?” Great Hawk asked.

  “I think so, but I can’t be sure. They’re all wearing balaclavas and heavy jackets. I’ll need to move closer. You take the .338 and stay here on overwatch.”

  “Very well. Use your illuminator if you need me to take any of them out.”

  He was referring to a small infrared pointing device on my web gear. “Will do. Keep an eye out for the infected.”

  “Always.”

  I handed him my sniper rifle, checked my M-6, and began working my way closer to the dilapidated restaurant. A short time later, I stopped at the edge of the woods, scanned the tall roadside grass with my thermals and, once satisfied that there were no crawlers lurking, I belly-crawled to the side of the road. Ahead of me were the backs of the drugstore and an auto repair shop across from the McDonald's.

  Briefly, I debated what to do. One of the men patrolling was Eric, but the other was a Legion trooper. I needed to get Eric’s attention without alerting the other man to my presence. After that, I needed to find a way to talk to him without the others seeing. This was going to be tricky.

  Slowly, I crawled out of the weeds and moved to the edge of the drugstore. My ghillie suit was great for woodland stealth, but in the open, without trees or brush around, its rustling would attract unwanted attention. After taking it off, I stashed it, along with my pack, behind a long-dead air conditioning unit. I risked a peek around the corner, and saw Eric and the other man standing at the edge of the building facing away from me. Perfect.

  Backing off, I retreated to the far side of the auto repair shop, paused at the corner to make sure no one was looking my way, and then walked across the street. I went quick, but not hurried. When you hurry, you make noise. Worse, you tend to make mistakes. Right then, I could afford neither.

  By rolling my steps, and keeping my weight on the outside of my boots, I made it to cover behind a gas station adjacent to the McDonald’s without drawing any attention. A quick peek around the corner revealed that the way was clear. Slowly, carefully, I leveled my rifle and turned the corner. Ahead of me were two large A/C units and a rusted-out dumpster. Keeping my profile behind the A/Cs, I crept forward until I was close enough to the dumpster to crouch behind it. From there, I could see Eric and the other man as they made a circuit of the rooftop. At the end farthest from me, they disappeared from view, but for most of their patrol, they were visible.

  From here, it was just a matter of patience. I took a small red-lens flashlight from my belt, and keeping it behind the dumpster, I dialed down the illumination to a muted crimson glimmer. Now that I was closer, I was fairly certain which one was Eric. If I could get his attention, I could give him a chance to take the initiative. I held the light at the end of the dumpster, poised my finger over the switch, and waited.

  On the first three passes, the two men both faced in the same direction. They took a few steps, paused, looked around, and then continued on a short way before repeating the process. Finally, on the fourth pass, the shorter one turned away and clapped his hands over his face to muffle a sneeze. Eric didn’t know it, but he was looking right at me. I tapped the switch, and for just a fraction of a second, the light came to life.

  Eric stopped.

  The other man was still trying to stifle another sneeze, so I turned the light on again and traced the shape of a G in the air. Through the goggles, I saw Eric nod once, and then continue on his patrol. I had a strong urge to simply light up the man next to Eric with my illuminator, but thought better of it.

  Patience, Garrett. Give the man a chance to think.

  That’s the thing I admire most about my skinny friend. He’s got an agile mind, and if you give him enough time, he can figure out a solution to almost any problem.

  The two of them made another couple of passes on the rooftop and, on the third, Eric stopped and pointed northward.

  “Hey Mike, do you see movement out that way?”

  The other man stopped and looked. “Where?”

  “There, out past the garage, toward the billboard. I think I see a walker over there.”

  “Really? I can’t see shit.”

  “Put the binos on it.”

  The smaller man walked to the middle of the roof and came back with a pair of binoculars. He held them up and peered where Eric indicated. “I still don’t see anything.”

  “I’m telling you, there’s something over there.”

  The Legion troop stepped closer to the edge of the roof. Now that his back was turned, Eric slowly and quietly drew something from his coat pocket that shined in the moonlight. “Morrison, you’re being paranoid. There’s nothing—”

  Eric stepped forward and slammed his hand into the man’s kidney. The raider gave a strangled gasp and went rigid. Eric’s hand shot around and caught the binoculars as the dying man dropped them, simultaneously grinding his blade around in cruel circles. He let the binoculars dangle from his elbow by the strap, and then clamped a hand firmly over the raider’s mouth. His hand came back again and he plunged his knife into the man’s other kidney. I winced.

  That’s a bad way to go, getting stabbed in the kidney. It hurts so bad that your body locks up, your diaphragm seizes, and you can’t scream. Rapid hemorrhaging and paralysis ensue, and without immediate medical attention, you bleed out internally. Eric didn’t wait for that to happen. The knife came up again and he sawed at his opponent’s neck. Unlike in the movies, cutting someone’s throat is neither an easy nor a neat process. The tendons and ligaments around the big arteries in the neck are tough, and don’t part easily. Eric hacked at them with the knife until he cut through to the big veins beneath. Slowly, he lowered the raider to the ground, blood pouring down his torso.

  I stepped out from behind cover and waved. He acknowledged me and motioned me around to the other side of the restaurant. When I had run over there, he made a shooting gesture with one hand, and then a throwing motion. I pulled my nine-millimeter pistol, screwed on a suppressor, and tossed it up to him. He caught it deftly, checked the safety and the chamber, and then motioned me to climb the service ladder to the ro
of.

  Although I tried to be quiet, the ladder was rusty and loose on its bolts. It rattled and squeaked as I climbed up. From above me, a groggy voice said, “Logan, what the fuck is going on?”

  I heard the telltale crack-clang of the pistol firing, followed by a dull thud. The pistol fired twice more as I topped the ladder and stepped up onto the roof.

  “Don’t move.” Eric said.

  For a second, I thought he was talking to me, and froze. He saw me from the corner of his eye and gestured impatiently. “Not you, Gabe. Come on.”

  Ahead of me, two men lay in expanding pools of blood and another kneeled half-risen from his bedroll.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them, Kasikov.”

  “What is being happening, Logan?” The voice was deep, and heavily accented. Russian.

  “What is being happening, you sick son of a bitch, is I’m taking you prisoner. Now, if you like your kneecaps, I strongly suggest you keep your hands where I can see them.”

  The man slowly raised his hands. I leveled my rifle at him and stopped next to Eric. “Who’s this guy?”

  “His name is Vasily Kasikov. He’s a sadistic puddle of rotten pig shit.”

  “Go fuck your mother, traitor,” the Russian said in his native language.

  “You should be more polite. We are pointing loaded weapons at you, after all,” I replied.

  Eric turned his head. “Holy shit. You speak Russian?”

  I kept my eyes on the captive. “Focus, Eric.”

  Kasikov was staring at me now, and even though I was looking at him in infrared, I could see the surprise on his face. Remembering that I didn’t need the goggles at the moment, I reached up and slipped them off. The world went back to normal, and I felt blinded without the enhanced vision. I placed the optics carefully on the ground, and advanced on the marauder.

  “Don’t move. Eric, keep this bastard covered.”