by Dave Lund
“Cliff is trying to rally survivors at his facility in Nevada. If we are truly lucky, there are still enough citizens alive even to call ourselves a people and a country. Maybe someday we’ll be able to fight back the dead and take our land out of their rotting grasp.”
Amanda took a deep breath and put her hand on Clint’s chest. “OK, but I think there are a lot of things you haven’t told me that you should now. I’ll order you to if I have to.”
“Yes, Madam President,” he said, and kissed her passionately.
CHAPTER 47
Groom Lake, NV
February 17, Year 1
Cliff looked around the room of airmen and the civilians, all of whom were still cheering and giving each other high fives. It took weeks longer than anticipated, but now the Lazarus project was back on track and a new President of the United States was in place. Clint would direct the first female President in the next steps to help get things online, but for now Cliff had a new mission to accomplish. The debriefing that the civilian groups had given was chilling; the rogue militia group terrorizing the other survivors had to be stopped, and they had to be stopped immediately if any of the good people trapped outside the wire were to be helped.
If what Jake had spoken about in the debriefing were true, then there were some real nut jobs out there holding survivors hostage. There was no way that Cliff would stand by and let such atrocities continue; those survivors were the wives and families of the rescued survivors, and they needed to be reunited back in Groom Lake. It would be impossible to rally the survivors into a reconstituted nation if evil men continued their reign in the new world.
Cliff walked over to Arcuni and interrupted his excited conversation with Garcia. “Arcuni, is the Herc fueled and ready?”
“No, I’m waiting for our next destination to calculate the fuel load needed with a buffer; the less fuel we fly with, the more weight we can carry.”
“OK. We’re going back to Cortez, Colorado, a simple out and back. Get the PJs. Tell them we’re doing a snatch and grab and to load out with my pickup in the cargo hold. Wheels up in an hour.”
Arcuni stood wide-eyed for a moment before nodding and leaving with Garcia trailing close behind.
Big Bend National Park
Jessie turned the steering wheel to leave the main road, pointing the old SUV towards Terlingua. An M4 rifle lay on the seat next to her and, to her surprise, there was a large machine gun in the back of the Scout. She’d never shot anything like it before, but she was confident Bexar could figure it out. It took all of her control to keep her speed at fifty miles per hour. As much as she wanted to drive as fast as the old Scout would go, she couldn’t risk having a wreck or burning that much gas. She had to get to Terlingua, get Bexar, and get safe.
Some zombies walked aimlessly around the burnt-out wreckage of a motorcycle and turned to follow the Scout as Jessie turned onto Highway 1-70, but she didn’t slow or care; she was a woman with a mission. Jessie was sure that the crashed and burned motorcycle wasn’t Bexar’s. Vaguely, she remembered seeing the wreck on the way back to the park after being taken by the bikers.
She barely heard the engine or the road noise, because the ringing in her ears filled her head with sound. At least the heater worked well in the Scout, and for once, she wasn’t shivering. She was happy to have some clothing on her body. The previous night’s memory was still coming in and out of focus, but the more she focused and tried to bring the memories to the surface, the more certain she was that no one had raped her.
Jessie drove past the turnoff for Terlingua and continued towards Lajitas. She wasn’t sure that Bexar had ever made it back from his scavenger run for a vehicle, but if he was still there, then she should be able to find his motorcycle or his gear or him. Hopefully not his walking corpse. A couple of miles from the Lajitas Resort, the zombies shambling towards Terlingua on the road were growing in number. Each of them turned and followed the Scout. Jessie drove through the RV Park and found no sign of Bexar or his motorcycle. She had the same results driving through the parking lot of the resort hotel.
If the undead were walking towards Terlingua, then something caused them to walk that direction. It was probably Bexar leaving and they were trying to follow him.
Jessie slammed on the brakes and slid the old 4x4 to a screeching halt, made a U-turn in the middle of the highway and accelerated sharply to drive back towards Terlingua.
The Scout seemed to arrive back to the Starlight Theatre without any conscious control by the driver, who was lost in thought. Jessie turned the engine off and stepped out of the SUV into the parking lot that was still littered with the large spent brass from the machine gun attack the previous day. The cabin, their cabin, lay in a burned-out ruin, and dead zombies lay on the ground in the parking lot. It took her a moment, but she realized that a handful of undead had followed her up the hill. The M4 wasn’t one of her and Bexar’s AR-15s, but it worked the same, although she’d never had an AR-15 that had a selector switch that went past “fire.” She thumbed the switch all the way around to the etched symbol of three bullets, shouldered the rifle, and looked through the ACOG at the mangled face of the walking corpse closest to her. Jessie took a deep breath and smoothly squeezed the trigger. The rifle fired three times in rapid succession and the zombie fell immediately, its rotting skull exploding in a black mist. Four more times, she took aim and fired at an approaching rotting corpse staggering up the hill and four more times, a skull exploded in a shower of black rotting tissue. The last shambling zombie looked like a little girl about six years old. Only part of a dirty pink dress hung in tatters on her broken body. Keeley’s face flashed in Jessie’s mind as she took aim and pulled the trigger. The rifle only fired once before the bolt locked back to the rear with deafening silence. All Jessie could hear was the ringing in her ears from the explosion.
Jessie tilted the rifle and looked at the ejection port to see that it was locked open on an empty chamber. She ejected the magazine and reached to her chest rig for a fresh one and found only the dirty t-shirt she was wearing. Realizing that she was now out of ammunition for her rifle, Jessie’s eyes snapped open in fright before looking back to where the little girl lay on the ground, black fluid oozing out of her ruined skull. Jessie took a deep breath and climbed into the Scout to look for a fresh magazine. I was stupid to waste so much ammo with the select fire repeated again and again in her mind.
Jessie still had the Glock with seven rounds in it, but she didn’t want to have to rely on a pistol or have to engage any more undead by waiting for them to get into pistol range. She opened the door to the Scout and dug around in the trash the bikers had left in the vehicle. One M4 magazine was found under the front seat. Jessie pressed down on the rounds and they barely moved. Full, thank God! She seated the magazine in the rifle and pressed the bolt release before thumbing the safety back to the safe position. Climbing out of the truck, Jessie scanned the area and didn’t see any more threats approaching, so she went to the general store. Ten minutes later, Jessie exited sporting a green, white, and red Mexican blanket with a hole cut in the middle for her head, worn like a poncho. If it is good enough for Bexar, it’s good enough for me.
Jessie walked down the porch towards the Starlight Theatre, her eye caught by a restaurant ticket tacked to the board out front with Bexar’s handwriting. Finishing the note, Jessie fell to her knees with tears streaming down her face, not able to catch her breath. She felt like all of her hopes and dreams had turned against her. She had lost her daughter and she had lost her husband. She was all alone and there was no hope to survive.
Eventually, Jessie caught her breath, stood, and walked down the hill towards the ghost town graveyard; it felt like a dream. She found the new rock mound that held her daughter’s body, leaned over, and kissed the top of the grave.
I have to go back. I have to find Bexar. If he is dead, I will bury him. If he is reanimated, I have to make sure that he isn’t doomed to be a walking corpse. I have to make s
ure he has peace in death.
Jessie walked up the hill and back into the general store. Thirty minutes later, she had a dozen plastic bags full of water, beef jerky, shirts, blankets, and all the other supplies she could think of to survive. Jessie loaded the Scout, climbed in and started the old SUV, and then drove down the hill towards the highway for Big Bend.
CHAPTER 48
Groom Lake, NV
February 17, Year 1
Cliff stood on the ramp of the C-130. Arcuni, Garcia, and the three PJs stood on the ground looking up at him while he spoke. “There is a rogue element that is not only terrorizing other survivors, but according to our survivors, they also have a prison camp of women and children they are using for forced sexual reproduction and slave labor. We cannot let this stand; we have to destroy the rogue militia and we must save the innocents.”
Cliff looked at each man. Their faces spoke of their solid resolve that they believed in the warrior’s code to protect those who were in their charge with every ounce of their being until their last breath.
“Simple snatch and grab. We need one of those assholes and we need to get the information on their location, where the civilians are, and what their command structure is like. Wright is working on some SATINT for us, but we need HUMINT and we need it now. Arcuni and Garcia, you are responsible for maintaining security for the aircraft. Rick, Evan, and Chris, you are with me in the truck. The survivors gave me a rough idea on where we can find the outer edges of their Area of Operation. We have no comms, so we have to set a departure on a timed schedule. Once we land, we have two-five mikes, twenty-five minutes, to get our prisoner and be back on the Herc. Arcuni, I want you wheels up at thirty mikes if we’re onboard or not. You are allowed to loiter on scene until bingo fuel for return if you have to take off without us. If we’re broke dick, we’ll return early, so be ready for an immediate departure. If we go Winchester on ammo and have to E&E, we’ll return early. From the Intel that we have, we can expect semi-organized resistance using light arms. But the general idea is that the cult wackos do not have any formal military training or hardware. Are we clear?”
The five men all showed thumbs up.
“Great. Arcuni, light the fires; let’s get this circus on the tracks.”
Near Fort Stockton, Texas
“What the fuck do you mean he isn’t there?”
“That’s what the kid said. Ended up talking with someone calling himself Major Wright. He said that the route north is broke dick due to a high concentration of walkers and gave us coords to a secondary site.”
Apollo handed Chivo the notepad with the coordinates. Chivo climbed into the Land Rover and dug through the map book until he had the right grid square.
“It looks like a camp site on a lake about five hundred miles from here, near Dallas.”
“We can’t go to Groom Lake because of a zombie horde, but we can go to Dallas? That’s fucked up, man. That fucking mass of walking pus was headed towards Dallas when we went by before.”
“Hey, fucking don’t shoot me; it’s not my clusterfuck. I’m just telling you what I’ve got, mano.”
“What do you think? Do we trust Major Wrong or do we stick to our original plan?”
The two of them stood looking past the other and watching the surrounding area for threats, which Lindsey thought looked odd, two people having an argument and not even looking at each other.
Chivo shrugged. “Fuck it mano, let’s go to the Big-D.”
Lindsey didn’t say anything, but thought that going towards a big city like Dallas was a bad idea. She didn’t really care as long as she could be with Apollo. She felt safe with him and only wanted to be near him for as long as they lived, which she believed would probably not be very long at all.
The man they’d saved at the park was still unconscious and wrapped in the survival blanket. Apollo climbed behind the wheel, Lindsey took the front passenger seat, and Chivo climbed into the back to switch out the man’s IV and keep tabs on him during the drive. Apollo turned the Land Rover around and bounced down the poorly made oil field road, back towards the small Texas highway, to find an alternate route across I-10 towards Dallas.
Cortez, CO
The C-130’s nose pointed towards the numbers at the end of the runway. Once the wheels were on the ground and Arcuni pushed the props forward to stop the big lumbering cargo plane, Cliff and the PJs were out of their seats and going through their last gear checks. Magazines were touched in their pouches and weapons were press checked to make sure a round was in the chamber. Garcia began releasing the retraining straps holding the old pickup to the cargo floor, and by the time Arcuni turned the plane around at the other end of the runway, setting the plane for a rapid departure, the expedition crew were in the truck with the engine running. Garcia lowered the ramp and the truck began backing out of the plane. Rick was behind the wheel of the truck, Cliff sat in the cab with his window down, rifle ready, and the other two were in the bed of the truck, rifles pointed towards the cold open air outside the plane. Ramps in place, the truck backed down out of the plane before speeding off towards the open fence and the crashed semi-truck. Arcuni stayed in the cockpit with the engines running, ready to push the throttles wide open. Garcia stood at the end of the ramp, M4 ready and headset plugged into the intercom.
The truck drove north at a high rate of speed. According to Jake, the operating base of the aggressor group was probably at or near the middle school by Highway 491. They weren’t ready to engage the full group, but they hoped to find a sentry on the edge of their area. Closing within a few miles of the middle school, Rick slowed the truck to a much more reasonable speed before turning off the highway and onto a side street. Cliff looked at his watch and the countdown timer running. They were ten minutes away from the plane; they had five more minutes to find someone to turn back and make the twenty-five-minute window. Rick slammed on the brakes, sliding the truck to a halt.
“There, a technical drove across on a street four blocks north.”
Cliff nodded and climbed out of the truck. The other two PJs climbed out of the bed of the truck before Rick sped north towards the armed civilian vehicle he’d seen pass. The group’s plan was to have Rick flush the target and have it follow in pursuit while the other three set a class “L” ambush. Although the destruction was apparent, the group was surprised at the lack of undead walking through the streets. Bodies lay on the street, rotting slowly in the cold winter air, but nothing appeared to be upright. A few moments later, they heard the truck’s horn honk twice in the distance. Rick was signaling that he was en route to the ambush with the target following. A few moments later Rick and the truck flew through the intersection before sliding to a halt a block to the south. A rusty old Ford rambled down the road towards them, smoke billowing from the tailpipe. An M-2 fifty-caliber machine gun was mounted in the bed of the truck and the man standing in the bed behind the large weapon was firing a steady stream of rounds towards Rick. Cliff knelt on the sidewalk using a mailbox for concealment, raised his rifle, and fired a three-round burst. The machine gunner’s head snapped back and he fell out of the bed of the truck to the road below with a wet thump.
The driver of the Ford slammed on the brakes and slid to a halt a block away from Rick, directly in the kill zone of the ambush. Cliff and the other two PJs opened fire, flattening the truck’s tires and punching holes in the radiator while rushing forward towards the driver. The driver raised his hands in surrender. Cliff held cover while Evan ripped him out of the cab and onto the cold asphalt before using flex cuffs to secure his hands behind his back. Rick drove to the group and they tossed their prisoner into the bed of the Chevy before climbing in and driving south towards the waiting plane as fast as the truck would go.
Evan searched the prisoner and found a pistol, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a small glass pipe, and a baggy with small dirty crystals that looked like sand mixed with salt. Evan held up the baggy for Cliff. “Fucking meth, man.” Cliff shook his head.
Evan used EMS sheers and cut off the man’s clothing, leaving him bound and completely nude in the cold winter air. A few minutes later, the truck drove up the ramps into the back of the C-130 while Garcia secured the truck to the cargo floor.
Cliff stopped Garcia from raising the ramp. “Leave it open for a little bit. I need to take care of something.” Garcia shrugged and went forward in the plane. Cliff put on his headset and plugged into the intercom jack at the back of the plane. “Arcuni, I need you to do something special after taking off.” He continued to explain his plan while Arcuni began running up power and released the brakes to begin rolling down the runway.
Moments later the plane launched airborne. Cliff, wearing a loadmaster’s safety harness, pulled the naked man out of the bed of the truck and dragged him towards the half-open cargo ramp. Cliff clicked in his safety line and walked the prisoner to the edge of the ramp. Arcuni leveled the plane at about two hundred feet over the ground and banked the plane to fly over the town of Cortez. Cliff held the man by his cuffed arms behind his back, leaning the man over the edge of the ramp as the Colorado landscape sped beneath their feet. Urine trailed down the prisoner’s leg.
“Where are the women and children being held?”
“F-f-fuck you.”
Cliff slapped the man across the face with the side of his pistol. Blood erupted from the man’s nose.
“Let’s make something perfectly clear. You tell me what I want to know, or I’ll push you off the ramp and you can rejoin your little group after trying your hand at learning to fly. Where are the women and children being held?”
