“Jimenez!” Daniel yelled to the man pushing with all his strength, head down and grunting, and Jimenez turned to see where to go. He grabbed the wheel and hauled it over as Baker came running back out from the garage to help. The horde was getting close, some of the front-runners barreling through the shrubbery in the green space right toward them. There was a quaint split-rail fence, but it wouldn’t slow them very much or for very long.
“Lewis, on me!” Daniel said, calling to the man closest to the runners. He dropped to a knee and started sending out a full metal jacket welcoming party. Heads began exploding as he left the selector on single fire, preferring double taps to three round bursts. The other soldier slid in a few feet away and launched his own cacophony of death, targeting fast and moving on to the next snarling face in a snap-action ballet of brain splatter. The main horde was screaming across the parking lot now, stumbling on weakened legs, falling and being run over as thousands more filled the empty spaces. Daniel didn’t have to look to know they got the Hummer inside, he could hear his men shouting for them to run for it.
“Go!” he yelled at Lewis and they both spun out of their crouches then sprinted full bore toward the men waving them in. The bay door was only open a few feet as they threw themselves under it and the men holding it open let it fall. Undead bodies slammed into it, bouncing off the metal and causing it to shudder under the impact. Daniel lay panting on the concrete for a moment, trying to control his breathing. That had been close.
“Is that man-door secure?” was the first thing he asked as soon as he could breathe.
“Yes, sir,” came the reply as the men were already unloading the crates of ammo and hurriedly reloading depleted magazines.
“We need to find the president, make sure she’s secure.”
There were exchanged looks among the men as they thumbed in ammo and put the full magazines in the pockets on their Molle vests. The glance among soldiers that said, “Maybe it would be better if we didn’t. Maybe it would be better if she had met an unfortunate demise.”
Daniel felt the same way but they had a job to do. They shouldn’t blame her because her men had run for safety as soon as things got dicey. They shouldn’t blame her because they didn’t have radios and the black-clad platoon did, there weren’t enough for everyone. They shouldn’t blame her for choosing this, of all places, to stop for fuel. She was the leader of what was left of the country, they didn’t have to like her, but they did have to protect her. That was their job.
“Theirs was not to wonder why, theirs was but to do or die,” suddenly jumped, unbidden and wholly formed, into his mind. The old poem about the suicidal charge of the Light Brigade, and how they rode into the valley of death following some very bad orders. He hadn’t thought about Tennyson since high school. Daniel shook it off, but understood the meaning. This stupid blunder had nearly cost them their lives. He never would have allowed it to happen if he had any say so in the planning stages. He wasn’t going to be riding at the back of the bus anymore, he decided. He needed to be actively engaged in laying out a strategy to get to Oklahoma. Whoever was advising the president was obviously an idiot and that was going to change.
It wasn’t hard to find her, they just followed the sound of her voice. She was in another rage, yelling at one of the oily government guys, demanding he “fix this”.
“Hold up,” Daniel said quietly to his men, before they rounded the corner to where the group was gathered.
He wanted to hear what she had to say. The Marines had been kept entirely out of the loop and had only the vaguest of ideas of what the world was like until that morning when they departed the underground base. None of their supposed chain of command would answer any of his questions. They weren’t allowed to mingle with any of the civilians, and he didn’t know if the black-clad group of soldiers she surrounded herself with were Special Ops, Delta, UN or just paid mercenaries. He wasn’t even sure they were Americans. The time for the Marines to be kept in the dark was over, though. That much he knew. He would not keep risking his men and have them used as zombie fodder anymore. If they were going to make it to the new capital, he needed to be a part of the plan development because the one they had now totally sucked.
They waited, quietly listening, just out of sight behind the corner jewelry store.
“How do you propose we do that?” she nearly screeched at him. “There are thousands of them out there! How are we going to get back to the buses?”
“We can cause a distraction and send the other Marines out to get them,” came a reply from one of the bearded men. The same one who had taken the only Humvee with a full tank of diesel in it and left them at the gas station. It was currently parked outside the front entrance doors and surrounded by an ever-increasing horde.
Daniel had heard enough. They were planning on sending his men back out into the mess they had caused.
Not on his watch.
He and his squad rounded the corner in full battle rattle and spread out on instinct. They weren’t intentionally trying to be intimidating, but they were anyway. Six angry men filled the wide path between the shuttered stores, in a wedge formation, armored and armed, Daniel in the lead.
Many of the civilians took an unconscious step back at the soldiers bearing down on them, carbines at the ready, faces clouded with fury. As Daniel approached, the man who left them to die at the pumps stepped between him and the president and started to say something. Daniel swung on instinct, the buttstock of his M-4 cracking the man in the forehead in a lightning-quick flash. They were quick, her platoon of goons in black, and as one they grabbed for weapons to bring to bear, but the Marines were faster. With eye-blink speed and a quiet rustle of cloth on steel, six fully loaded and fully automatic carbines came up to shoulders and six hard men were looking down their sights at men who were frozen in place, guns half drawn.
“Where are the rest of my men?” Daniel asked, his gun barrel never wavering from the bleeding man’s face. “Did you send them outside?”
“We’re here,” came a reply from the other end of the mall, the voice echoing in the stillness. “Just finishing up a perimeter check. This place is completely surrounded. Nobody is getting out.”
“You’re not using us as cannon fodder anymore,” Daniel said calmly, his finger still on the trigger, the safety still off. “I lost four men clearing that wreck so the convoy could get through back in New York. They didn’t have to die, but you never warned us of what we were up against. You let us figure it out on our own.”
The man started to protest, to say something in his defense, but Daniel tightened his finger on the trigger and the man stopped speaking in mid-sentence, his mouth left hanging open.
“You need to do some explaining, ma’am, if you want our help,” he said, turning to face the president.
“Whoever is advising you is an idiot. I don’t know who these guys are,” he indicated the group of men in the black uniforms, “but I know they aren’t ours. They aren’t Seals or Delta or any other Tier One Team.” We never would have got the drop on them if they were, he left unsaid.
To reinforce the point, the rest of the Recon Marines that had been checking perimeter security joined them and added their guns to the six already pointed at the men. The men who were holding very still, their weapons useless in their holsters, or hanging on slings.
All of the civilians, politicians, businessmen, and their families were quiet, frightened and huddled together near the entrance to the theater.
“Is this a coup, Captain?” the president asked quietly, knowing this situation had to be defused and acting in a way she knew was needed. She hadn’t been in the trenches of down and dirty cutthroat politics for forty years and not learned a thing or two. She was very adept at reading people and circumstances, and adjusting to meet the challenge. She had a number of personas she could turn on and off at will, and she saw the need to portray her “vulnerable but strong” image. This Marine was just some patriotic farm kid from flyover cou
ntry and she recognized that she needed to appeal to his sense of duty and honor. Surely, he had those, why else would he join the military?
“It’s Lieutenant, ma’am, and no, it’s not. I’ve lost four good men today, in a situation that could have been avoided. By keeping us in the dark, you’re not utilizing us to your best advantage. We need to know what happened, who made you president, what we’re up against, and who these clowns are.”
“Do you doubt that I am the president, that I have the full authority of the office?” she asked calmly, expecting him to immediately deny the charge.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, leaving her nonplussed and trying to figure out how to answer.
“I assure you, Lieutenant, she is the rightful successor. We have been trying to establish communications with all of the other bunkers since this started and have been unsuccessful,” a bespectacled man said as he stepped forward from the crowd.
“Who are you?” Daniel asked. “Who started this, whatever this is, and how widespread is it?”
“Perhaps we can sit down and discuss this,” Madame President said. “I admit we may have made some mistakes not sharing everything with you, but we are not enemies, Lieutenant. I thought the elite guard would be able to handle things with your assistance, but apparently that is not the case. We need to bring you up to speed on everything. Shall we?” She had her charm turned on as she indicated the food court area and the tables there. Daniel looked toward the heavy glass mall doors and the masses pressed against them. He wondered how long they would hold. All of the shops had metal roll-up gates, so if the undead did force their way through the entrance, if they could get inside the stores, they would still be safe from them.
Daniel nodded, lowered his gun, then addressed his men, “Make sure the anchor store gates are secure. They have entrances to the outside.” He pointed out three pairs of soldiers and they darted off.
“Baker, Davis, see if there is any way to reinforce the main entry doors.” He pointed to another pair of teams and they took off for the front and back entrances.
“The rest of you, get some of these gates open so we have a fall-back position. Check the manager’s office for keys before you start breaking things.”
The president gave a sidelong glance at her Chief of Security who was wiping blood from his forehead. He should have thought of those things, not some baby-faced Marine. This Lieutenant Cobb was smart, she’d have to be careful what she said. If he was on board, fine. If not, they could get rid of him later. They had accomplished her primary goal, get out of the bunker before that bastard Carson decided to fly one of his nukes into it. She had to get to Lakota before it got too established, with the pretender president too entrenched. Once she had cemented her power there, Carson would have to concede. He’d never launch his nukes at the very city he helped establish. If he didn’t bend the knee, so to speak, what did it matter? What could he do? He only had a handful of men left alive, and with any luck, one of the zombies would get to him.
17
Daniel
“So, you see, Lieutenant, we have to get to those radios. The Minister of Defense hadn’t intentionally left you in the dark, we just had so many things we’re trying to accomplish, it must have slipped his mind.” Daniel finished quoting the best he could remember the excuse the Madame President had given him when he had demanded answers.
“And you believed her, that she just conveniently forgot to tell us what we were going to be facing out here?” Baker asked, evident disbelief in his voice that matched the looks on everyone else’s face.
“It doesn’t matter what we believe,” Daniel replied. “She said there is a base nearby. If we can get her Hummer, she has the radios in it to call for help, the Army can get us out of here.”
“I know that base,” Jimenez said. “Letterkenny is just a maintenance depot, they up armor Humvees. You’re telling me a bunch of POGs are gonna come rescue us?”
“I’d be happy if the Girl Scouts came to save our asses,” Daniel said, “as long as they had .50s and enough ammo to put a hurting on those things.”
There were nods of reluctant agreement among the grumblings. Why weren’t those so-called elite guards of hers being sent out to do the dirty work?
Daniel smiled a little. Soldiers weren’t happy unless they were complaining about something. It was part of their job description.
“Check your buddy,” he said. “Make sure everything is fastened tight. The rest of you guys double check that you have what you need. Don’t get up on the roof and forget a lighter.”
They were at the All-in-One sporting goods store and were adding all manner of plastic protection to their uniforms. There were only nineteen of them left and they were using football, soccer, and baseball pads and guards as protection against the biters. The plan was simple. Walk out the front door and climb over the piles of dead bodies they’d been shooting at for days. Blast a path through the other ten thousand that had steadily streamed in, drawn to all the noise, and get to the president’s Humvee. The one those two cowards had abandoned at the entrance of the mall in their mad dash to safety. It was armored, but the surge of the crowds had snapped some of the antennas mounted on the back bumper so they had to get in, get it started, and make their way to the bay door around back.
“Be easier if you gave us the channels and codes, ma’am,” Daniel had said. “We could just get a safe distance away and make the repairs and the call.”
“They have orders not to respond to anyone’s voice but my own,” she’d said, closing the matter, as Daniel tried to hide the disbelief that was evident on his face. If he could get all of his men crammed in, he would be sorely tempted to just leave her and her contingent behind. He had a hunch she probably knew that, too. The tension between the Marines and her elite guard had grown over the past few days. They couldn’t understand why she surrounded herself with them. They weren’t well trained, most of them couldn’t speak English very well, and it was becoming obvious that they were hiding something. She was desperate to get to Lakota, it was almost pathological, she was afraid not to be there. It was as if she were racing the clock. Someone had suggested they lay low, stay quiet and out of sight for a few days and the crowd might wander off, but she was adamant, they had to get to Oklahoma as soon as possible.
They’d unloaded all the ammo, went up to the roof and tried to kill enough of the undead to make it safe to get the refueling finished. The more the soldiers fired, the more undead showed up. It was apparent the wall of them would be as high as the roof before they could kill enough to make a difference. They just kept coming, filling the parking lot. The doors hadn’t broken yet, but if they kept them riled up and surging, sooner or later, the doors would break.
Daniel had taken gallons of camp stove fuel from the store and filled Snapple bottles with it, shoving soaked strips of designer t-shirts in the top as wicks. They had the canisters of butane, but unless they could shoot them in the air, they’d never see them once they were lost in the shuffling feet of the horde. It’d make a nice little boom if they could, though. Set a few heads on fire.
Within minutes, the exit crew were making their way to the doors while the civilians and the presidential guard lined the storefronts and watched. It was a weird procession. Daniel had tried to get to know those people a little. They all seemed to fear the Marines, but were fawningly polite to them. It was like they knew they needed them but they distrusted them. It was almost as if they didn’t like them. Maybe all high up muckity muck politicians and wealthy foreigners were like that. He hadn’t been around such people before so he didn’t have anything to compare them to. Maybe it was just his imagination. Maybe all rich people looked on soldiers like they were the hired help, who were needed, but a nuisance nonetheless. Only the little kids gave them smiles and waves.
The rest of his men were climbing up to the roof with their firebombs and extra cans of ammo. As soon as they got the diversion going, hopefully leading most of the undead away from t
he front doors, Daniel and his men would make a break for the Hummer.
They stood waiting behind the dressing room panels they had put in front of the glass doors. When they heard the crack of the rifles and the quiet whoomph of the Molotov cocktails exploding, they quickly pulled the doors open and started attacking the snarling monsters remaining in front of them. They used their K-bars to sink into the spongy faces. The screeching horde running for the fireballs and bullets didn’t hear the squelching of seven-inch blades being punched into brains and quickly withdrawn. Daniel and the boys stabbed straight and true. Quick punches aimed for the eyes and pull back fast before they fell. The walking horrors were reeking of decay and many of them were crawling with maggots feasting on slowly rotting flesh. Their screams of rage and desire were husky, almost like a hiss, as dried and brittle vocal cords rattled in mindless fury. There were only about twenty of them, half with a useless arm or broken leg, and the six Marines left them in crumpled heaps as they swung steel and ran for the Hummer. They leaped over grasping things with trampled bodies and torn skin. By the time the hundreds of milling shufflers, too addled to know which way to go, sensed them, they were slamming the heavily armored doors and wiping blood splatter from their faces. The thumping of impotent fists on the bulletproof glass started almost immediately as the tail end of the horde turned toward them. Bonds hit the starter switch and watched, all of them impatient for the WAIT light to go out. It only took a few seconds, but like looking at the pot and waiting for it to boil, it seemed like an age. Filthy hands were slapping windows, faces were smearing yellowish liquids across the glass, and that otherworldly keen of hunger was coming from all of them. More and more were making their way over and although the big diesel had plenty of power and torque, nobody wanted to test it against five hundred bodies. The red WAIT light was just fading out when Bonds cranked it over to START and it thundered to life. With a practiced move, the emergency brake went down, the transfer case locked into high, the transmission was in drive and his foot was to the floor. The V-8 spun up quickly and all four wheels launched three tons of angry American iron into a crowd of hungry dead. Broken bodies flipped boneless over the roof and heavy treads ground undead flesh into the asphalt.
Zombie Road III: Rage on the Rails Page 9
