Ashley Drake, Zombie Hunter

by Dana Fredsti

  “We need as many capable fighters as possible.” Simone picked up an M4 and several clips. She looked very capable. “Although I did promise Colonel Paxton I’d fall back if necessary.”

  “What about Nathan?” Okay, I couldn’t resist it. “Did you promise him too?”

  Simone shot me a sideways look that told me she knew exactly what I wanted to know. “Nathan,” she said, “has no say over my actions or lack thereof.”

  “Like, did you guys used to date or what?” Okay, so tact and Tony did not go hand in hand.

  Simone raised a patrician eyebrow. “Now is hardly the time to discuss this.”

  “But you know each other, right?” Lil popped up again, like a little Whac-A-Mole.

  Simone raised her eyes heavenward. “Yes, children, we know each other.”

  We all stared at her expectantly. She stared back, one eyebrow still raised.

  “Come on, Simone,” I wheedled. “We may all die in the next few hours. Don’t make us die with our curiosity unsatisfied.”

  Simone stared at me. “Some would call that blackmail, you know.”

  I shrugged, grinning at her. “Inquiring minds wanna know.”

  Simone took one more look around her at a bunch of kids waiting for their bedtime story. Even Jamie looked hopeful.

  Simone threw her hands in the air. “Oh, good god, fine. Let it not be said I let you all die without satisfying your prurient curiosity. Nathan was an army ranger in Pakistan. We met in Kyrgyzstan when I was brought in to investigate a possible outbreak in a system of caves near the border. Our missions overlapped.”

  “Did he know about zombies?” I really wanted to ask if they’d hooked up, but figured I’d be more likely to get an answer with a less personal question.

  “He knew something was wrong,” said Simone, “but I couldn’t confide in him. We were under strict gag orders unless we couldn’t contain the outbreak. Which we did.”

  “So I figured it out myself.”

  Nathan didn’t quite materialize from the fog, but his appearance was unexpected enough to make us all jump. Even Simone startled, looking like an irate feline who’d just had its fur stroked the wrong way.

  “Never got definitive proof—your crew was really good at the cover-up.” He nodded to Simone. “But saw and heard enough to tell me some of the things in our nightmares are real. And that I had a damned good reason to be paranoid of the military and women.”

  Simone’s eyes narrowed. “You of all people knew the importance of maintaining secrecy in covert operations. Why you would have expected me to betray my orders for the sake of a pair of brown eyes and strong shoulders … it’s ridiculous. I suggest you get over it.”

  She turned and stalked off, as angry as I’d ever seen her. Jamie glared at Nathan and hurried after Simone.

  Nathan shrugged, said, “Oh well, the sex was great,” and walked off in the opposite direction.

  “Talk about high school shit,” I muttered.

  “Total high school shit,” Lil agreed.

  We went back to assembling rucksacks full of destruction while the surviving members of the Alpha and Beta teams took positions outside the Slinky of Death and Gillette double barrier.

  Tony had his iPhone earbuds in. I smacked his arm, hard. “Hey!”

  “What?”

  I pulled the bud out of his left ear. “This! You can’t wear your friggin’ iPod into battle. What if we need you?”

  Rolling his eyes, Tony grabbed the dangling bud and said, “It’s only for the first few minutes, okay?”

  I stared at him. “Why?”

  “Just listen.” He stuck the bud in my ear. I listened to a few bars of dramatic film score before taking it out.

  “So why?

  “It’s March of the Dead from Army of Darkness. I want to be listening to it when the zombies start crossing the field. I mean, if I might die today, I want good music to go out by.”

  What could I say to his wish for sort of a musical last meal? “Just leave the iPod behind when we’re out on the field, okay?”

  Tony gave what might have been a nod or could have been a subtle fuck-you jerk of his chin. Hard to tell with him. Either way, I’d be checking him for ear buds.

  A shout went out over the barricade. The tension in the air went from palpable to physical, so thick I could cut it with my katana. The slight tinge of rot in the mist suddenly thickened to a visceral stench of putrefying flesh and rotten blood. Gotta love that Wild Card enhancement of smell.

  The dead were walking and headed straight for us.

  A hand came down on my shoulder. I recognized Gabriel’s touch even through all my armor and padding, and turned to meet him.

  “The first ones have reached the edge of the woods,” he said quietly.

  I nodded. “I smell them.”

  “Are you ready?” He touched my face, eyes intense.

  “As much as anyone else.” I looked down, suddenly shy. Of all the dorky times to get self-conscious.

  Gabriel shook his head. “A lot of these people will never be ready. They’re just doing the best they can in a situation they could never have imagined would be real. But you…” He shook his head again. “You just take what comes at you and roll with it.”

  I wrapped my fingers around Gabriel’s hand, savoring its warmth in the chilly air. Hard to remember he would be half dead if not for the vaccine. Was the glass half dead or half alive?

  Shut up, brain.

  “Can we win this?” I didn’t really expect an answer.

  “I don’t know.” Gabriel dropped his hand from my face and looked out towards the outskirts of Big Reds. “Nathan knows what he’s doing and Colonel Paxton is smart enough to check his ego at the door and listen to him. But the numbers and the odds…”

  “Let’s hope we do a Zulu instead of a Zulu Dawn?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Then at least we had last night.”

  We stared into each other eyes, heat running back and forth on the electric current connecting us. I leaned in to kiss him and—

  “It’s okay, Rico… cough, cough … I don’t mind dying because I got to have you.” Tony gave one more dramatic cough and grinned at us. Kai snickered.

  “I hate you, Tony.” I spoke with great sincerity.

  Gabriel looked at him. “One of these days you’ll be old enough to have a girlfriend, kid. And when you are, I hope you have something more meaningful than movie quotes up your ass. That is, if you live past today.”

  Another shout went up from the barricades. Gabriel’s expression went grim. “You guys ready? Good. You have five minutes to finish up here and get your asses into rank.” He gave me one last look before vanishing up over the ramp to the other side of the barricades.

  I got nose to nose with Tony. “If you say ‘this shit just got real’ I swear I will kill you here and now.”

  Tony held up both hands in a “who, me?” gesture, popped in his ear buds and clambered up onto Mount Gillette to watch for the approaching army of the dead. Maybe reducing everything to a movie moment helped him deal with reality.

  Lil stood up, M4 in hand, pickaxe strapped to her back. I put a hand on her shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”

  She gave me a shaky smile. “Yeah. I just miss Mack.”

  “We all do.” I hugged her and she threw both arms around me and clutched me tightly. Our various weapons and accoutrements clashed and clanked and stuck in painful places, but it didn’t matter. I suddenly realized I’d die to keep Lil safe.

  “Wild Cards! Time to dance!”

  Gentry stood on top of the barricade next to Tony and grinned down at us. “You ready to do this?”

  Lil, Kai, and I looked at each other and then up at Gentry before yelling in unison, “Hell, no!”

  “Good! Get your asses into line!”

  We stood in the second rank along with Simone. Nathan was in the front line with Gabriel and Gentry. The soldiers were di
vided up between the three lines while the non-coms who weren’t good enough with the guns stood by to reload spent magazines and hand off ones to each line as they fell back. We also had a supply of surplus weapons so the third “line” could up replacements for jammed or overheated guns.

  Jamie was one of the non-coms, her face pinched with tension and fear. I had to hand it to her; she was obviously terrified, but still putting her ass on the line with the rest of us.

  I didn’t know most of the people we stood with in line. All I could think of was a line from some BBC series with Sean Bean (and yeah, I only remember the line ‘cause I think Sean Bean is a hottie), “I know you can fire three rounds a minute. But can you stand?”

  I knew I could, and would, stand. But could the rest of these people? Their pale, set expressions, sweat dripping down even in the cool Northern California morning, didn’t give me an answer one way or the other. The soldier next to me couldn’t have been more than twenty, if that, a skinny weed of a kid with the look of a movie extra there for the sole purpose of dying and making the audience feel sorry for him. I caught his eye and smiled reassuringly. He managed a brief lip tremor in return. I vowed he’d make it through the day too, if just to cheat the God of Movie Clichés of its expected sacrifice.

  The smell suddenly went from foul to total stinky charnel house reek as the wind shifted, blowing fog and stench across the open fields to the barricades.

  “Remember,” called out Colonel Paxton, standing on Mount Gillette. “Head shots, three rounds per zombie. Make them count! If you can’t hit their heads, go for the knees and take out their mobility. We can do this.” With his oratory skills and rich Shakespearean voice, he made a pretty convincing argument.

  The moans grew louder, the rotten stench thicker. I suddenly remembered an old biology teacher saying, “Smell is actually particulate.” Ugh. Thanks, memory. Like I really needed to think about that now. Time for nose plugs.

  I glanced at Tony. The earbuds were in, his eyes shining with glee as zombies slowly poured out of the tree line into the field. “My lord, the army of the dead approaches,” he said softly. Then, as promised, he yanked out the buds, tucked them carefully in his vest pocket and grinned at me. I gave him a thumbs-up.

  An explosion rocked the field as a zombie stumbled into one of the claymores. One of the soldiers in the front row fired off a few rounds in nervous response.

  “Don’t waste ammo,” shouted Colonel Paxton. “They’re not in range! Wait for my signal! Then first rank, fire at will.”

  Blurred faces in the distance started taking on distinct, rotting features as the first of the swarm closed the gap. The zombies’ former genders became apparent, along with the hideous wounds that killed them. I could see remnants of designer jeans and tops, dresses, a few business suits, lots of flannel shirts, and, in one heartbreaking instance, Hello Kitty pajamas on what used to be a little girl. Having the time to see the zombies without the distraction of killing them sucked. I silently begged Colonel Paxton to give the order to fire.

  “First rank, ready … fire!”

  Thank you…

  The first rank opened fire in controlled three round bursts, thirty or forty rounds per gun. Bap bap bap, bap bap bap, the three-beat staccato over and over again until their rounds were spent. A light haze of smoke drifted through the ranks, mixing in with the fog.

  “First rank, fall back!”

  The first rank stepped back as the second rank stepped into position, sighting and firing as soon as we were in place.

  Bap bap bap. The little girl went down. Bye-bye, Hello Kitty.

  My rounds went quickly, even with careful sighting. Second rank finished and dropped back to let the third rank into place. I ejected the spent clip and someone immediately handed me a fresh one; it was Jamie, still looking terrified but determined. She handed a clip to Lil, who had that “Aieee Kali!” light of battle in her eyes again.

  Third rank dropped back, first rank ready to step up again, and the dance started over.

  My ears rang with the sound of gunfire, the shouts of men and the moaning howls of the dead a muted backdrop for the constant chatter of rifles. Hot brass littered the ground, and now and again an explosion marked the detonation of another claymore. Some of the better marksmen used each shot to lethal affect, each bullet taking out a zombie. I could only aspire to that kind of marksmanship. This went on for what could have been minutes or hours; hard to tell when your ears are ringing and your shoulder numb from the kick of your gun. All the shooters were tired, no time for breaks. All each person could do was grab a quick swallow of water when it was their turn to reload.

  It became obvious the swarm hadn’t been thinned by much despite the growing number of unmoving corpses now littering the field, and more zombies continued to stagger implacably from the trees and road leading up to Big Red. More were angling in from the sides as well, which meant that some of our shooters had to peel off from the straight ranks and start taking out those zoms before they reached us.

  Distant explosions punctuated by intermittent gunfire signaled that at least a few zombies were approaching from the other side of campus. The guards stationed there would signal by flare if it got out of hand. Paxton and Nathan were banking on the odds that it wouldn’t since zombies don’t have the brains to strategize and attack our flanks. I hoped to God they were right because we didn’t have the manpower to put up a pitched battle on both sides of Big Red.

  “They’re getting through!” One of the lookouts on Mount Gillette waved frantically as he yelled again. “They’re getting through!”

  The zombies had slowly increased in numbers; even as we killed the ones in front, more pressed forward, crawling, climbing, and stumbling over their fallen comrades faster than the three ranks could shoot them down. If we didn’t do something quickly, we’d have to fall back behind the barricade. Eventually the zombies would get over it; they’d just pile up against it until they made a rotting walkway up and over the Slinky and the Great Wall of Gillette.

  Lil and I glanced at each other. We knew what this meant. Time to start taking them down in the field. Which meant activate Wild Card powers.

  “Wild Cards, time to take the field!” Colonel Paxton’s shout rang out above the gunfire. Second rank was up and firing, but as soon as we’d spent our rounds, the Cards dropped out of rank. The kid next to me put a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful out there, okay?”

  I squeezed his hand and smiled. “You, too. Just hang in there and try not to shoot me.” I mean, seriously, not only did we have to worry about getting ripped to pieces and snacked on by zombies, but we ran a very real chance of being hit by friendly fire.

  He nodded vigorously.

  “Kick zombie butt, you got it?”

  He slapped a fresh clip into his rifle. “I got it.”

  I ejected my spent clip and grabbed a loaded one from Jamie. “Thanks.”

  “You need some for the road?” She held out several more. I had my M4, my katana, my tanto, and my dart gun, and my various pockets, pouches, and knapsacks were pretty full, but hey, there’s always room for Jell-O and more ammo when you’re going on a possible suicide mission, right?

  We’d start by detonating any darts that had already been dispersed by the claymores, then fan out on either side and use our dart guns and transmitters to start thinning out the swarm coming in from those directions. Gentry would use the flamethrower in wide sweeps to light a few walking dead torches that would hopefully stumble into more zoms and keep the fire burning, so to speak. Anything to keep the numbers down so the ranks could continue to put the zoms down with head shots and make the piles of bodies too high for the rest of the zombies to climb. All this and hopefully not get hit by friendly fire.

  I checked to make sure the radio transmitter was clipped firmly on my belt. Time to rock and roll. Or possibly tango.

  “You ready?” Gabriel joined me, dirt and sweat intermingled on his face. He looked irresistible, but I managed to re
sist.

  “Sure. So … is this our first date?” Okay, I couldn’t resist that.

  He laughed, that particular single bark of his that signified genuine amusement. “Absolutely. There’s champagne at the end of it if you kill enough zombies.”

  “Jeez, a date with a quota.”

  He kissed me quickly, a hit-and-run smooch before Tony or any of the other Wild Cards could make another wisecrack. Yea, though we were about to walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Zombie Death, I will hear no more movie references. Or something like that.

  I heard Simone’s voice rise in argument followed by Nathan’s exasperatingly calm tones. Of course.

  “I’m a Wild Card, damn it!” Simone glared at Nathan fiercely. Her hair was mussed, her face actually shiny with sweat. She looked like a Valkyrie.

  “You’re also an expert marksman,” Nathan pointed out calmly. “And the foremost living expert on this damned plague in the world. You stay here.”

  Colonel Paxton stepped down from Mount Gillette. “Nathan is right, Professor Fraser. We can’t risk your life out there. It’s dangerous enough here. If you die, it’s an irreparable loss.”

  “If any of them die”— she gestured toward the rest of us, all gathered together next to the ramp—”it’s an irreparable loss.”

  Nathan shook his head. “Sorry, Simone, but your knowledge is worth the lives of all of us. If we didn’t need every competent marksman here, you’d be inside. And if the zombies manage to breach the barrier, I’ll carry you in there myself…”

  “You’ll be out risking your life with the rest of he Wild Cards,” Simone snapped.

  “I’ll be keeping my eye on the situation.”

  I could see Simone seething, but she’d run out of steam in her argument. “Fine.” She turned to our little group. “I expect to see every single one of your safely back here, do you hear me?” Her eyes were bright with determinedly unshed tears. We all nodded silently; even Tony kept his quips zipped. “Good!” Slapping another clip into her M4 with more force than necessary, she got back in line, a grimly determined look on her face. I pity the fool zombie who shambled into her sights.

  I watched Nathan watch Simone. The sex must have been great ‘cause he looked like a starving man whose dinner and dessert were just out of reach. He caught me looking at him and frowned. “You heard the professor,” he growled. “You kids be careful.”