Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation

by Scott, Joshua Jared

  Due to losses, I was forced to restructure the squads. We now had four of them. Squad one held ten people. Squad two, still under Harvey’s command, had eight. I was treating this as my command squad so Tara and Dale helped fill the gap. Three had ten people as well. Four had seven of ours and the four auxiliaries from Yellowstone. Tim Myers was now in squad three. He had been in five previously and missed out on that first battle. The men from Yellowstone who flew in on the Pave Hawk had been shifted to the front lines. Of the sixty militia members I brought, thirty five were alive and well, or suffering only minor injuries. Of the twenty five casualties, thirteen were dead, eight seriously wounded, and four critically injured.

  * * *

  “How many did we kill?”

  I had no clue and hadn’t attempted to count the bodies when I was in the field, but it was something I wanted to know.

  Captain Briggs took a sip of his tea. “It’s not certain by any means, but somewhere around three hundred, more wounded. They just don’t know how to quit. No real fear in them either. Most opponents would have broken and run long before – I am referring to the northern section where we were solidly advancing. Anyway, Yellowstone lost fifty seven. Another forty two are in the hospital but most will pull through. These are primarily from the south. The raiders apparently transferred many of their men there just before the fighting began.”

  “Yeah,” I said, dryly, “but don’t worry, the South will rise again.”

  Lizzy snorted but didn’t stop her work. She was composing letters to the families of our fallen. I would have done it, should have, but she insisted. Her view was that I didn’t have several hours of free time and this couldn’t wait. The letters would be flown back in the morning accompanied by some of our wounded. The pressure on Yellowstone’s limited medical staff was far too high.

  “We’re still attacking first light, right?”

  “Yes,” replied the captain. “I want you as reserves again. You did good getting in and stopping them cold, especially with me out of touch. That will not happen a second time.” He scowled at the thought. “We are going to advance along the entire stretch, small units that can come to each other’s aid. If there’s an opening, I’ll let you know. As down as your numbers are, you can use all three Pave Hawks to fly everyone in.”

  Getting a lift was preferable to marching several miles on foot.

  “How are things in the Black Hills?” he continued.

  “Could be worse. Some minor trouble, but Briana said it was sorted out.”

  Mary rolled her eyes.

  “Not what I heard,” commented the captain.

  “We lost far more here, and all of the Black Hills issues are probably done with. They’ll be okay. As to us, I’m worried about how much territory we’re trying to cover. We have a wide front and only a few hundred men. They have over a thousand, maybe, along with any family members inclined to join up. And, while I do acknowledge that our losses were almost all in the south where the units got swarmed outright, we still took too many casualties compared to them. It should be ten to one in our favor, not the four to one we think it turned out to be.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be finished tomorrow.” Captain Briggs seemed certain of that. “Those choppers will be parked here tonight, so you make sure they’re ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

  * * *

  The remainder of the afternoon passed slowly, and we spent far too much time dwelling on those we lost. Carlson was pissed about being too old to fight. He swore repeatedly that his experience in Vietnam would make a difference. He knew how to fight in the jungle, and the forest was nothing compared to that. Lizzy was moody. Even Mary, the perpetually upbeat teen, was quiet. She generally stayed close but did speak with Michael briefly, when he was likewise free.

  As to the subsequent attack, well, Captain Briggs launched it the next morning as planned. The Yellowstone militia advanced and met the raiders who were more evenly spread out this time, but it proved indecisive. The enemy seemed determined to avoid a straight up bashing match. They pulled back, moved around, slipped into ditches or the like. Essentially, there wasn’t all that much fighting. A few people were killed, more injured, but the numbers were slight. It seemed an absurdity after what we had just gone through. The entire matter was frustrating. More annoying was the raiders keeping to the trees. We had overhead flights, which helped with spotting, but there were no convenient open areas that would allow the combat choppers to engage to full effect.

  And what about the third day of battle? That was more of the same, except the militia withdrew around lunchtime instead of tromping all over creation until sunset. Then the raiders suddenly moved against our set defenses. The fox holes were deep, however, and the men more than ready. They killed a few, apparently angering the prophet’s followers who tried harder, and more were efficiently disposed of before they finally retreated.

  * * *

  “Mary, what’s happening?”

  As before, my daughter was listening to everything, sorting the data for our benefit. The Yellowstone militia was moving forward with the majority grouped in the center. After the beating the prophet took trying to break our line, it was unlikely he would attack again, at least right away. The captain decided to force his hand and hopefully rout the raiders so our aircraft could pick them off once they were driven into the open. How I wish our pilots were not civilians. Men and women with proper military training could make full use of these machines. The thick foliage and inability to physically see the targets wouldn’t matter nearly as much, but you have to work with what you got.

  “Seems like most of the bad guys are facing them. They’re shooting in this area.” She tapped the map. “The raiders are downhill and pulling back.”

  Lizzy nodded. “Good. Having the high ground will help Briggs.”

  “It should,” I agreed. “Anything about them needing us?”

  “Nope.”

  I sighed. Waiting to see what role we might play, if any, was almost as stressful as the actual fighting. More importantly, I wanted this conflict done with. It had gone on for so long. There had to be a conclusion at some point. These people had to be dealt with. It had to end.

  Our four squads were on or around the hill with their gear close at hand. They seemed ready to make a go at it, but that was to be expected. The vast majority had come from the Wyoming and Utah settlements, places destroyed by the raiders, and every single one had lost friends to these people.

  Glancing at squad three, I noted that Tim Myers was looking my way. Rather, he was staring at Mary. That ended soon enough, and he began writing in his journal. Quite a few kept them. The things helped pass the time and provided an outlet for emotions.

  “Anything yet?”

  “You just asked me,” she retorted. “Stop asking every two minutes!”

  “Sorry.”

  “We want to fight,” said Tara.

  Her brother nodded.

  “Not yet,” I replied. “Honestly, we can’t move until something happens and we know where to go.”

  Neither seemed pleased, even if they managed to maintain that blank stare which was such a part of their being.

  “Lizzy?”

  “I got nothing.” Her tone was a mix of apprehension and abject boredom.

  “Okay,” said Mary, “they are still moving forward, but it’s slow. The raiders are fighting, and the area behind them has a lot of people coming and going. It might be a base of their own. If so, it’s nowhere near as nice as ours, since we have the best one ever.”

  “Nothing is better than our base,” I agreed.

  * * *

  An hour later the good news ended, and it was Yellowstone’s turn to get screwed over.

  “The raiders are running!”

  “You sure, girl?” asked Lizzy.

  Mary nodded fervently. “Just heard the captain say to pursue. They were fighting, and some started to pull back. Others saw, and they started to go too. Then they were all runn
ing.”

  That sounded good, and we knew quite a few had been killed during the firefight. The losses had to be hurting.

  “A few are still shooting, but it’s not that many. I think we’re going to win.”

  “Keep listening.” I looked at Lizzy. “Tell the squads we may be going in soon to help mop up. Can’t say for certain, but if they run in different directions more men are going to be needed to track the bastards down.”

  She grabbed a handheld radio, not bothering to get up and tell the squad leaders in person. Lazy. Or, more likely once I thought about it, Lizzy didn’t want to miss anything Mary might say.

  “They are definitely running. Lieutenant Gikas has several platoons and is right on their tail. Captain Briggs just ordered their flanking units to increase the pace.”

  “How many of them are dead?” I asked.

  “From what they’re saying, lots and lots. We have some hurt too, but they’re all in the back by Captain Briggs. Some helicopters are on the way to pick them up. I bet Xavier’s going.”

  With the Pave Hawks placed in my care, currently sitting behind our little outpost, we were in a position to quickly reinforce the local militia. That being the case, Xavier and our news chopper were given the task of helping evacuate the injured. You could squeeze seven or eight inside, not as much as with the military choppers but it was workable and meant they remained available for combat missions.

  The twins stepped closer, probably hoping they would finally get to do something.

  “Any mines go off?” asked Carlson.

  “Not that I heard,” answered Mary.

  Lizzy and I looked at each other.

  “They would have mined their fucking base,” he said, “if it is a base.”

  “Then it’s not a base,” I countered. “Maybe just a rallying point. If they are situated elsewhere, they might still get reinforcements. Mary, get Kimberly on the line and tell her to keep an eye out for any big groupings, that we don’t think their base, or bases, are where the fighting is.”

  “Hey, guys…” Mary began to fidget something fierce, pressing both hands against the headset she was wearing. “…is a green mist bad?”

  “Chlorine!” Carlson turned the word into a vile curse.

  She continued to listen. “People are choking. I think… They’re all talking at once! I can’t figure out what’s happening!”

  “Chemical weapons,” I muttered, softly. “Lizzy, get those birds in the air and over there. Have them shoot anything wearing a jacket, anything on the raider side of the gas. I don’t want those monsters to have a chance to follow up on this.”

  “Harvey!” His head lifted, and he passed Lizzy as she ran down the hill toward our makeshift airfield. “Get squads one and four on defense, and put two and three in the fields around us. Spread them out. The Yellowstone militia just got hit with what was possibly chlorine gas. Pay attention to which way the wind is blowing.”

  “Will do.” He likewise hurried off, shouting orders as he went.

  “Are we going to die like them?” asked Mary in a whisper.

  “The gas sinks,” said Carlson. We have the high ground, and there’s a good wind here. Even if they have a way to get it to us, which I doubt, we’re in about as safe a position as there is.”

  We were too far away to hear the helicopters engage the enemy, but Mary kept us informed. She also said that Captain Briggs was trying to pull everyone back.

  * * *

  Forty six more dead. Yellowstone had already lost ten percent of its population and near the entirety of its core militia, along with the bulk of the more reliable volunteers. The results of the first day’s fighting was bad enough. This took it well into the unacceptable range. Most of the regular military was among the fallen, and Lieutenant Gikas was among the dead. Captain Briggs was the only officer left.

  Of the wounded, many would likely die. The stuff had been heavily concentrated, aimed at quickly filling the depression the militia was passing through. Lungs began to burn, causing a few deaths. The inability to breathe properly or to see, coupled with the extreme panic this caused, resulted in a complete breakdown of discipline and order. The men ran, trying to get out of that green mist. Enemy snipers began to shoot, and it was often their bullets that were the true cause of death. Rocket launchers were also used, directed at clumps of soldiers and any wounded who were being treated by medics.

  The helicopters prevented the prophet from taking full advantage of the situation, and they killed quite a few. One nearly got hit by a rocket, with perhaps a dozen being fired into the air all told, but it passed by harmlessly. This barrage did not deter the pilots as it had so many times in the past. They kept firing their miniguns, and one dipped low, trying to disperse the gas with its blades. It might have helped. I don’t know.

  And while I’m thinking of the prophet, let me say that we had no idea where he was. He hadn’t been seen in weeks. We thought he was somewhere in the area, but he had been steadfastly avoiding the battlefield. Crying shame he hadn’t been where we could put a bullet in his belly.

  Briana was going to have a hard time with this. She’d had to inform the families who’d taken shelter with us of all the deaths following that first big fight. This one would be worse, and it wasn’t the numbers that were so bad but rather the method in which these brave men and women died.

  * * *

  “I should have seen this coming.”

  “Don’t go there!” Lizzy slammed both meaty hands into my chest, knocking me off my feet. I landed on a chair. “Not your fucking fault!”

  “We knew they were running to nothing. I should have realized it was a trap. They’ve done that before. They’ve done it lots of times.”

  “Exactly!” Her eyes were smoldering. “They did it in Salt Lake City. They did it in Rawlins. We did it to them in Casper. Traps are the normal here. No one else thought about it. Why should only you have to?”

  Mary nodded her agreement. There were tears in her eyes.

  “We were cocky and arrogant. With our fancy weapons and limited training we were going to slaughter them, despite the odds, despite their numbers, despite the fact they won nearly every other fight they were ever in! I should have argued with the Yellowstone folk, had the military send their bombers and drop incendiaries over the entire area. That would have put an end to it.”

  “And probably burned down half the state and every cabin in this place!” Lizzy was not backing down. “We all made the decision to fight them in the forest. Might not have been a really fucking bright idea, but we can’t change it now.”

  “Still, I…” I struggled to regain control. “What is happening, as best we know?”

  “The wounded are all out of there, those we could get to,” said Carlson when no one else answered. He had been helping Mary. “Some were left behind.”

  “We sure about that?” I asked.

  “In that mess? It happened. We pulled out fast, and they have control of the ground. The headcounts will let us know for sure.”

  He was likely correct.

  “Where is Captain Briggs?”

  “Don’t know.” This was from Lizzy.

  “Mary, get on the radio and track him down. I want to know how many militia Yellowstone has and where they are. Lizzy, get the Pave Hawks in the air. Have them fly over that area and see if they can spot any stragglers. Tell them to shoot the raiders if they happen to see any. I don’t care if they waste ammunition or even hit. Keep them scared.”

  I fell back to brooding while waiting on the others. It turned out Captain Briggs was only a quarter mile from us, having abandoned his line which could no longer be defended due to a lack of manpower. He was considering setting up a fire base that, combined with my position, would prevent the raiders from marching into Yellowstone.

  Of the Yellowstone militia, which started with just under two hundred people, there were forty three still capable of fighting. Many of the wounded would recover in time, but for now they only h
ad two operational platoons. That was it. As for the Black Hills, we had four squads with thirty nine people, thirty five of us and the four Yellowstone volunteers. There was also myself, Lizzy, the twins, and Mary. That took us to forty four fighters. Carlson wasn’t in any condition to contribute, and he was better used blowing things up anyway, if we ever got the opportunity to do so. Ignoring the pilots, we had eighty seven combat ready. That was all.

  We had no clue how many raiders were still alive. They had been mauled. That was a certainty, but it was unclear what their initial numbers might have been or how many we had purged from this existence. I had no doubt that they still outnumbered us, but it couldn’t be by too large a margin. Between what Captain Briggs killed on his march and the Pave Hawks adding to the slaughter, they had to be falling apart.

  “Dad?”

  “What is it?”

  “The pilots called in. The raiders seem to have left the area where the gas attack was.”

  “They see something?”

  It was bad. I know it was bad. It was going to be bad. This was a bad day all around.

  “The bodies of our guys, the ones we didn’t get out, they, um…”

  I rose and put my hands on her narrow shoulders. “What did they do?”

  “They were stripped naked and impaled, all of them, and it was in a clearing where the helicopters could see. Everyone’s dead. Also…” She swallowed. “…some might have been alive when they did it. They don’t know for certain, but a few of the…”

  “Those fucking bastards!” Lizzy grabbed a chair and sent it spinning into the nearest tree. “Did they shoot any?”

  Mary shook her head. “They were all gone. Our guys just saw the bodies. One of the pilots wants to know what they should do?”