“Go!” Frank barked, and hopped up to lay down cover fire. He shot round after round, slamming into the back row of offices, aiming high in hopes of salvaging the situation without killing any civilians.
Webb, Marie, and Gardner moved up, followed by Frank and Freeman, all ducking into cubicles on either side of the aisle.
“Contact left!” Freeman cried as a young man in a suit came around the corner with his handgun raised. Four rounds ripped through him immediately, and the Corporal shook his head in disdain. “We’re moving,” he said, motioning for Gardner and Marie to move across while he secured the aisle. “Get to the end and secure it,” he instructed, and Gardner nodded.
He led Marie up, hitting the corner of the room where the last walkway was. As they reached it, several shots tore apart the top of the fabric wall, barely missing their heads. They hit the ground and then Gardner slowly peeked up over the shredded cubicle wall. There were two figures, silhouetted by an office window with some movement inside.
They fired when they saw him and he ducked just in time.
“What we got?” Marie asked.
“Two assholes at twelve o’clock,” he replied. “Maybe more in the office.”
“How many in the office?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t know, all I saw was movement before I had to duck back down.”
“Was the office glass still intact?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I think so,” he replied. “Why?”
She shrugged. “There might be zombies in there.”
His eyes lit up. “Looks like our shot just got a little easier.” He nodded at her and then counted down from three with his fingers. They both popped up at the same time and opened fire, shattering the glass of the office before ducking back down.
Screams filled the space, both corpse shrieks and human fear.
“They’re out, they’re out!” somebody yelled, and then several panicked shots sounded, before the screaming turned to gurgled chokes. The shots aimed towards the soldiers quickly turned to the back of the floor.
Frank popped his head up to see several figures running towards the broken office window, and then noticed a silhouette in the conference room that looked like two men sitting back to back.
“I think I got ‘em,” he said quietly. “Moving to the conference room. Cover me.”
Webb nodded from beside him. “On it, Cap.”
Frank sprinted down the aisle, hugging the wall. A few shots peppered the wall above his head, but once Webb returned fire it stopped. He turned the corner and rushed the conference room, the glass wall shattering as he dashed. He took the opportunity to leap through the broken wall, into the small conference room.
Bennett and Foster were tied to rolling chairs right next to the window, gags securely over their mouths. Frank darted towards them, but the clicks of several guns being cocked froze him in his tracks. Half a dozen armed men and women in full business attire stepped forward, brandishing an assortment of handguns, shotguns, and rifles.
He didn’t back down, aiming his own rifle at the man in the front, standing his ground between the group and his men. The apparent leader was a middle-aged balding man covered in blood spatters, evidence of his folly during the apocalypse.
“You’re outnumbered there, soldier boy.” He sneered. “Put down your weapon and we’ll let you live.”
Webb and Freeman emerged from the floor, aiming around the cubicles.
“And you’re outflanked,” Frank replied. “So I’ll give you the same offer. Put down your weapons, and we’ll let you live.”
The man raised his chin. “Nah, I think we’re gonna stay just like this,” he spat. “After what we saw at the stadium, none of us trust you people.”
“Look, I’m sorry you were turned away at the stadium,” Frank said, sincerely. “But it’s not that simple.”
“Turned away?” The man barked a humorless laugh. “Is that what you think happened? It’s much worse than that. A group of us were standing in that crowd of hundreds when a horde of those things rushed us. The soldiers on guard, your soldiers, did NOTHING. They just watched as people were slaughtered. There were twenty of us who showed up there. Six made it back to this building. Six.”
Frank sighed. “Again, I’m sorry. This is a shitty situation all around.”
There was a staccato of a few rapid-fire shots from the far side of the room, and both parties tensed, raising their guns a little higher.
“Easy, now,” Frank said, voice cool as a cucumber. “You can stop firing now!” he bellowed.
“Are we not shooting zombies anymore?” Gardner yelled back, from near the broken office.
“Well, we’re kind of in a situation over here,” the Captain hollered. “Any other surprise shots coming up?”
“Nah, we’re good!” Gardner cried.
Frank relaxed his aggressive posture and set his weapon down on the conference table. “All right, I’ll make the first concession so we can start a dialogue.”
The balding ringleader pursed his lips, and then lowered his weapon. “So, what you got to say for yourself?”
“For starters, I’m Captain Frank Kyle,” Frank said gently.
The man nodded. “You can call me Wayne.”
“All right, Wayne,” the Captain replied. “The hard truth is, that stadium is a sanctuary for people who are vital to the war effort. What’s going on here is happening all over the country, and if we’re going to survive as a nation, the needs of those people come first.” He pointed to the ceiling. “That helicopter that is on your roof? The supplies in there were meant to shore up the stadium while we start growing our own food. As a show of good faith, whatever supplies you scavenged from the wreckage, you can keep. All we want is our people.”
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough,” Wayne snapped. “I want you to take my people to the stadium.”
Frank took a deep breath. “Is it just the six of you?”
“We have eighty-five,” Wayne replied. “Most of the people are on the sixteenth floor, barricaded in for protection. Lots of defenseless people who aren’t suited for this type of world.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s just too many,” the Captain explained, shaking his head sadly. “We’re already over capacity.”
“Unless you let us in, we’re going to starve in a matter of weeks.” The balding man’s eyes darkened.
“Captain, we got a situation,” Gardner declared as he approached.
Frank cocked his head. “What is it?”
“Marie needs to see you,” he said, “both of you, it would seem.”
There was a pause, and Frank and Wayne looked at each other, then nodded. They motioned for their people to lower their weapons, and the two leaders walked side by side to the far end. Marie knelt over an injured man, another man in torn slacks covered in blood standing next to her, bouncing from foot to foot and wringing his hands.
“What is it, Marie?” Frank asked, and she leaned back, revealing a fallen man with a large shard of glass protruding from his neck.
“This man needs medical attention, and needs it now,” she demanded.
Frank furrowed his brow. “You’re a combat medic. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, that glass shard has pierced an artery,” she explained. “I’ve stopped the superficial bleeding, but if I remove it, he’s going to bleed out in a matter of minutes. I need medical supplies that are back at the stadium if he’s going to live.”
“Wayne, will you let us take this man to the stadium for treatment?” Frank asked, turning to his new foe-turned-hesitant-acquaintance. “Once he’s healed up, we’ll bring him back to you.”
“Why?” Wayne snarled. “So he can starve to death with the rest of us?”
“No, so he can keep living with y’all,” the Captain replied. “Look, I can’t take you and your people there, but I can offer our support to help fortify and supply this building. With our transports, we can avoid the zo
mbies on the ground and get into buildings, get their supplies, and keep you going. Is that an offer you can live with?”
The frazzled man paused, glancing to his blood-soaked comrades, and received furious nods.
“I think we have a deal there, Frank,” Wayne said, and offered his hand. “Just remember though, if you don’t honor your end of the deal, I know where you live.”
Frank shook with a smile. “Good luck getting to us.” He winked. “Gardner, Freeman, see about making a stretcher so we can get the wounded down to the transport.”
Everyone sprung into action, and before long, Gardner, Freeman and Webb were lowering the injured man from the building onto the top of the transport truck. Frank stood in the hallway, overlooking the progress with Wayne. He pulled out a radio and handed it to the balding man.
“Here, this will let you get in touch with me,” he explained. “If you want to touch base with me at eight PM every night, I’ll give you an update on things.”
Wayne pursed his lips as he took the device, nodding and raising his gaze to the soldier. “I appreciate it, Frank.”
“My team desperately needs rest,” the Captain continued, “but once we are rested up, we’ll coordinate with you about getting this building supplied.”
“In the meantime, we’ll try to make contact with our neighbors who have the itchy trigger fingers,” Wayne promised. “Can’t imagine you boys liked getting shot at that much.”
Frank laughed. “Not really high up on any of our lists, frankly, so we’d all be very appreciative if you could pull that off.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” his new friend replied, and they shook hands one more time before the Captain climbed over onto the roof of the transport truck.
The sea of zombies had tripled in size while they were inside, still banging away at the side of the vehicle. Frank stepped around the patient that they’d secured to the roof, and approached Gardner by the cab hatch.
“You got him secured?” Frank asked.
The Corporal nodded. “Yeah, he ain’t going anywhere,” he replied. “I’m going to stay here and make sure of it.”
The Captain patted the injured man on the shoulder as he descended into the cab. “Don’t worry buddy, we’re gonna get you fixed up,” he said. He jumped down and Gardner’s legs followed as the Corporal took a seat to keep an eye on their charge.
Freeman wrinkled his nose at the boot on his headrest. “I’m guessing you want me to take it slow, then?”
“You do what you want, since if you take a sharp turn you’re the one getting kicked in the head,” Gardner replied with a smirk.
Freeman sighed. “Valid point. Slow and steady it is.” He fired up the transport, put it into gear, and eased it back off of the sidewalk and onto the road. Zombies stumbled out of the way, some getting crushed into puddles of crimson mush, others ambling after the roaring engine as it headed for the stadium.
CHAPTER TEN
Terrell kept an eye on the rearview mirror as they rolled down the country road, the sunset casting a golden glow on the acres of farmland.
“Well, if I’m reading this correctly,” Coleman said as he studied the crudely drawn map, “there should be a dirt road coming up on the right here. Should be in between the two giant corn fields.” He paused, waiting for a reply, and then raised his eyebrow. “Cap, did you hear me?”
“Yeah, dirt road on the right,” Terrell replied absently, still with his eye on the road.
Coleman peered over his shoulder. “You seeing something?”
“Pretty sure whoever was hiding outside of town has decided to follow us,” the Captain replied.
“What’s the play?” the Corporal asked.
Terrell glanced at him. “How’s your sniping?”
“I finished in the middle of the pack during the last set of drills,” Coleman admitted.
The Captain nodded. “That’s a step above me. You take the rifle.” He motioned to the glovebox, the Corporal rummaged around, locating a box of ammunition. He opened it and clucked his tongue at the sight of six long bullets.
“Here’s hoping there ain’t too many of ‘em,” he muttered.
Terrell turned down the dirt road and floored it, kicking up a dense cloud of dust as they headed towards the farmhouse. Corn stalks whipped by the windows, bouncing off the side mirrors, jostling the duo as they bounced across the bumpy dirt.
They got to a clearing and he slammed on the brakes, a large open area about the size of a football field. Xavier’s transport truck was parked underneath a large grain silo to the right. There was a wooden barn that looked old but strong to the left, attached to a large horse stable in the center.
As soon as the truck lurched to a stop, the soldiers dove out of their respective doors and sprinted in separate directions. Terrell took the barn, and Coleman made a mad dash for the silo, taking the spiral staircase two at a time.
Barely a minute later, a pickup truck arrived, two in the cab and four in the bed. Coleman crouched behind the half-wall at the top of the silo, peeking over and then lifting his radio to his mouth.
“Hey Cap, you read me?” he said quietly. “We got company.”
Terrell came back through, hissing but clear. “What we got?”
Coleman peered through the scope, taking in the men milling around the truck, guns at the ready in defensive positions.
“It’s your old buddy Ralph and his merry band of cousin fuckers,” the Corporal replied. “Looks like Big Boy and the two underlings are working their way towards you. Guess that means I got the other three. Let me know when you’re ready to start the fireworks.”
“You got a target?” Terrell asked.
Coleman took a deep breath and lined up a shot, aiming at one of the boys that walked in front of Ralph. “Do it,” he breathed, and Terrell leaned out of the barn door to open fire.
The center man fell to the ground, peppered with bullets, the other men splitting to dive to either side. Andrew couldn’t get behind cover and fired his shotgun wildly at the barn door.
Terrell ducked back behind cover, narrowly missing the shot, and staying pressed up against a wooden crate as another shot hit the door. He dove out to fire back, but Andrew slammed into the door, sending the Captain tumbling backwards, gun skipping away across the dirt.
Terrell leapt back to his feet, immediately rushing the redneck in a perfect form tackle, slamming him down onto his back. Before he could get a punch in, another redneck bustled into the barn, raising his shotgun to fire. The Captain dove, but Andrew tripped him, regaining his footing and leaning over him with a sneer.
“Go help the others,” he directed his friend. “I’ll take care of him.”
The shotgun wielding lackey nodded and ran back outside, where his friends were firing up at the silo.
Coleman watched the redneck emerge from the barn, panic gripping him at the reasoning behind the enemy coming back out from killing the Captain. He took a deep breath to compose himself, focusing on the task at hand. He’d managed to blow up one enemy’s head, but his second bullet had gone askew, hitting a tractor tire instead.
“Three guys and four shots, I got this,” he muttered to himself, aiming towards the barn redneck to fire. This forced him back inside, and then the Corporal aimed down at Ralph and his lackey, moving out of the way just quick enough to avoid their volley of bullets.
As he readied his hunting rifle, he noticed movement in the cornfield, and scrambled over to get a closer look from the back of the silo. There were four distinct tracks in the tall plants, rushing towards them, about fifty yards out.
“The cavalry has arrived,” he said with a grin, and then headed back to the front of the silo, taking quick aim towards Ralph and firing. He struck the tractor, but the attack caused his enemies to stay behind cover.
Terrell got to his feet, wiping his hands against each other. “You should feel special,” he declared. “I usually don’t give two free lessons to the same person.”
&nbs
p; Andrew yelled and rushed the Captain, who countered with a leg kick that caught the large redneck in the left knee. As he fell forward, he latched onto Terrell’s leg, flopping him down onto the ground as well.
As soon as the Captain hit the dirt, he rolled over and brought his elbow around into Andrew’s nose, shooting blood up into his airways. As the redneck coughed and sputtered on the ground, Terrell leapt back to his feet, waving at his opponent to get up.
“Come on big fella, that ain’t all you got, is it?” he taunted, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Andrew staggered up, giving a few sloppy punches that the Captain easily dodged. Terrell retaliated, his fist connecting with the redneck’s jaw a few times. On the fourth blow, Andrew grabbed his wrist and jerked him forward, head butting him in the face. The stunned soldier staggered backwards and the redneck went on the offensive, sending a few blows into Terrell’s midsection.
The Captain leapt backwards, wiping blood from his face, and hocked a glob of blood to the dirt. Andrew grinned maniacally through his own bloody face, reaching over to grab a hay hook from a nearby post.
“I’m not mad,” Terrell said playfully, “just disappointed.”
Andrew sneered. “You about to be gutted, boy.”
The Captain’s eyes darkened. “Lesson over,” he snarled, and cracked his neck before blocking Andrew’s lunge with the hook. He chopped the redneck in the throat with his free hand, and then dodged the desperate horizontal swing with the hook as Andrew tried to catch his breath. Terrell knuckled him in the face, and the redneck screamed with a backhand swing.
The Captain caught his arm at the wrist and broke his elbow, catching the hook and delivering an uppercut with it. The hook pierced Andrew’s jaw, eliciting a gurgled scream as he fell to his knees in pain.
Terrell kicked the redneck’s hands away and grabbed the handle of the hook, yanking it as hard as he could. The metal tore through the bottom half of his jaw, blood and teeth bouncing on the packed dirt floor. As his opponent shrieked in shock and pain, the Captain swung around and embedded the hook in the side of Andrew’s head.
Dead America The First Week (Book 3): Carolina Front Page 6
