Nurse Alissa vs. The Zombies | Book 6 | Rescue

by Baker, Scott M.

  Ramirez opened the door for the lieutenant.

  “What’s up, sir?” asked Boyce.

  “We rescued the group from the hospital and commandeered two Humvees parked out front. They’re waiting for us farther down the road.”

  “Is Alissa okay?” The question came from a worried Susie.

  “Alissa is fine, though we lost Ken fighting our way out of the hospital.”

  Ramirez glanced through the windshield. “Who are they?”

  “A local road crew that had been searching the island for survivors. Luckily, they found us when they did or we wouldn’t have made it out. Once they’re through clearing the road, we’re going to rescue Saunders and Ames, see if we can locate our missing helicopter, and then get off this island.”

  “Not soon enough for me,” said Boyce.

  Ramirez closed his eyes and muttered a prayer in Spanish.

  As those inside the bus watched, Woody and Ben cut the center portion of the tree into small enough sections so the bus could push them aside.

  * * *

  The sound of the Seahawk flying overhead earlier had disturbed hundreds of deaders from their semi-frozen inactivity, mostly those in Islesboro where almost a thousand deaders stood covered in snow. The explosion of the ambulance, followed by the two trucks driving through town, stirred them into action. Noise meant humans. Humans meant food. Trudging through the drifts, they made their way to the hospital. However, by the time the horde reached the parking lot, all they found were crushed deaders and the smoldering remains of a charred ambulance.

  A muffled sound caught their attention – the high-pitched roar of a chainsaw. Noise meant humans. Humans meant food.

  As one, the horde followed the sound and shambled south down Main Street.

  * * *

  Alissa had turned the Humvee around and parked facing north, leaving the engine idling. She rolled down the window to better see the rearview mirror, barely making out the outlines of the two trucks in the storm. The whining of chainsaws cutting through wood could be distinguished over the wind. With luck, they would be back on the road in a few minutes.

  A moaning from the back seat broke through Alissa’s thoughts.

  “You need to see this,” said Rebecca.

  Alissa closed her eyes. She had been expecting this moment ever since Nathan had been bitten. Figures it would happen now during this Grade A cluster fuck. Withdrawing her Sig Sauer from its holster, she shifted in her seat and lowered the barrel toward the top of his skull.

  “Sit back so you don’t get hurt.”

  “This is how you greet me?” asked Nathan.

  “You’re awake.” Alissa quickly switched the weapon to her left hand and then cupped Nathan’s cheek in her right. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “New Englanders don’t go down easy. You should know that.” Nathan huffed several times to catch his breath.

  “Relax. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “I remember being bit during the attack on the cabin. How long have I been out?”

  “Close to three days.”

  “Not that I’m complaining….” Nathan forced a weak smile. “Why haven’t I turned?”

  “You fought off the virus. However, you developed an infection from the bacteria left behind when the deader bit you.”

  “And you’ve been with me the entire time?”

  “Most of it.”

  Nathan tried to raise a hand to clasp Alissa’s but did not have the strength. Instead, he twisted to one side and kissed her palm. When he did, he noticed Rebecca seated beside him. She smiled and offered a half wave. Shithead bent his head and licked Nathan’s other cheek.

  Kiera leaned forward from the passenger seat. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  Nathan became confused. His eyes roamed around the interior of the Humvee. “Where are we?”

  “An island off the coast of Maine,” answered Kiera.

  “How did we get to Maine?” Nathan tried to sit up.

  Alissa gently pushed him back into a prone position. “It’s been an unusual three days.”

  Rebecca chuckled. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Take it easy,” said Alissa. “I’ll fill you in on all the details once we’re once we’re out of here.”

  “Are we safe?”

  “For now, yes.”

  “You might want to rephrase that.” Kiera tapped Alissa’s arm and pointed through the windshield.

  One hundred feet ahead of them, a deader appeared out of the blizzard, following the path cleared moments earlier by the plows. As they watched, more and more shadows emerged from the snow, all of them bearing down on the Humvee.

  Chapter Ten

  “We have to warn the others,” said Rebecca.

  Alissa searched the dashboard and console. “Fuck.”

  “What?”

  “Hoskins has both radios. We can’t contact him.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Kiera leaned forward and glanced upward through the windshield. “Yes.”

  “What is it?” asked Alissa.

  “This Humvee has a mounted fifty.”

  “So?”

  “Chris taught me how to use one, remember?”

  Before Alissa could respond, Kiera crouched on the seat, slid aside the access door, and sat on the thin strap the gunner’s normally use. She removed the weather cover, cracked open the ammunition can and fed the link into the tray, worked the charging handle twice, swiveled the weapon toward the targets, and depressed the butterfly triggers in short, controlled burps.

  Fifty caliber rounds cut across the road, ripping the first deader in half and blowing apart those behind them.

  * * *

  A staccato sound cut through the night, audible over the noise generated by the chainsaws. At first Costas ignored it until it repeated a second and third time. Checking his surroundings for any apparent threats, he made his way over to Woody and tapped him on the back.

  Woody stopped cutting through the tree. “What?”

  “Stop the chainsaws for a minute. I hear something but can’t make it out.”

  Woody shut down his chainsaw and waved to catch Ben’s attention. When Ben turned to him, Woody pointed to the chainsaw and waved his hand across his throat. The area went silent, but only for a few seconds. Then the distinct chatter of machine gun fire came from where they had left the other Humvee.

  “How much more time do you need?” Costas asked Woody.

  “Another minute or two.” Woody and Ben went back to cutting.

  Costas ran back to the bus to warn Hoskins.

  Hoskins noticed the sergeant racing toward the bus. “This doesn’t look good.”

  Ramirez pulled open the door so the lieutenant could meet him.

  “Sir, we have gunfire coming from the Humvee with the civilians. I’m assuming it’s deader activity. Woody says it’ll take a few minutes to clear the road.”

  “Damn it.” Hoskins quickly worked out a plan. “Take the second plow and go help the civilians. Leave Murphy and Rogers here in case any deaders get past you or move in from the flanks. We’ll join you as soon as we can.”

  “Yes, sir.” Costas saluted and ran off to carry out his orders.

  Hoskins waved for Boyce to join him. “Stay here. I’m going to check on the progress in clearing the road.”

  Costas circled around where Woody and Ben sliced up the tree and rushed past their plow. Rogers and Murphy moved in from the flanks to intersect him.

  “Sarge,” asked Murphy. “What’s going on?”

  “We heard gunfire.” Rogers stamped his feet against the cold. “It sounds like a fifty.”

  “I’m taking the first plow to check on that. The road crew is almost done clearing the road, so be prepared to move.”

  “Gotcha, sarge.”

  The first plow sat fifty feet away at the head of the column. Costas jumped on the running board and knocked on the driver’s window.

  In
side the cab, Brad nearly pissed himself. He rolled down the window. “Jesus, man. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “We need to check out that gunfire up ahead. You up for it?”

  “Damn straight. It’s about time we started plowing something other than snow.” Brad shifted into gear. “Hang on. It might get a little bumpy.”

  Costas reached into the cab and clasped the back of the seat with his right hand as the truck accelerated.

  * * *

  Kiera used controlled bursts to cut down the deaders. The strategy worked for the first few minutes. None of the deaders got to within twenty feet of the Humvee. As the horde drew closer, the number of targets became too great for her to keep under control. She leaned back in the hatch and yelled down to Alissa.

  “Where are the others?”

  “I assume still trying to clear the road.”

  “They better hurry. I can’t—”

  The blare of a truck horn caught their attention. Kiera glanced over her shoulder as one of the plows emerged from the snow heading north on the opposite side of the road. It drove past the Humvee and slammed into the horde on the left lane, pushing through one hundred feet of deaders. The thudding of bodies against the metal blade overpowered the roar of the diesel engines. The truck slowed, stopped, and backed up, its tires leaving two long trails of blood in the snow as well as a pile of mangled bodies. When the annoyingly loud and continuous beep of the back-up warning signal engaged, the noise drove the rest of the deaders into a frenzy. Those not crushed quickened their pace to reach the truck. The vehicle stopped and, thankfully, so did the signal. Shifting into gear, the driver surged forward, this time cutting in front of the Humvee and clearing the right lane of the living dead for one hundred feet. The truck backed up again. Riverlets of crimson wound their way down the asphalt.

  The truck maneuvered around the Humvee and stopped by the driver’s side. Alissa opened the door and stepped out. As she did, a severed arm dropped from the corner of the plow blade and landed on the road. Gary leaned out the passenger window and waved.

  Costas came around the front of the truck. “We came to help you out, but it seems like you were doing a good job on your own.”

  “We appreciate it.”

  The sergeant motioned toward the road. Another dozen or so deaders had emerged from the blizzard. “Any idea how more there are?”

  Alissa shook her head. “For each one we take down, two more take its place.”

  Kiera fired a few more short bursts, killing the closest deaders.

  “Don’t worry,” offered Costas. “They’re almost done clearing the road.”

  * * *

  Woody sliced through another section of the fallen tree and paused to check their progress. He and Ben had segmented it into two-foot-wide sections extending beyond the school bus’s plow blade.

  “You should be able to get through now.”

  “Thanks.” Hoskins patted Woody on the back.

  “Where’s our next stop?”

  “We have two men at the station down by the ferry. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. You and the other plow take the lead.”

  “Roger that.”

  Hoskins pointed toward the truck. “Do you have a radio in that thing?”

  “Yup.”

  “Have the other truck tell Alissa to fall in behind you.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Woody and Ben rushed off to their plow.

  Hoskins waved until he caught the attention of Murphy and Rogers then motioned for them to join him.

  “We finally on the move?” asked Murphy.

  “Yes. I’m going to stay on the bus. I want you to bring up the rear. You’ll need this.” The lieutenant handed Murphy a radio.

  The corporal took it. “Where are we heading now, in case we get separated?”

  “We’re going to retrieve Saunders and Ames, then look for our missing pilot.”

  Murphy and Rogers headed for their Humvee as Hoskins made his way back to the bus. Ramirez opened the door, closing it behind the lieutenant.

  “You should be able to push your way through. The trucks will take the lead and clear a path. Alissa will follow them. You’ll follow her. We’re heading to the dock area.”

  Ramirez shifted into drive. When the Mack pulled away, he accelerated. The bus rocked from side to side when it hit the segmented tree but easily pushed the sections out of the way.

  Hoskins checked in back. Patricia and Susie were fine. Boyce, who sat behind them, gave him a thumbs up. Hoskins removed the radio from the dashboard and pressed the talk button.

  “Captain Saunders, do you copy?”

  * * *

  “Sir, I think the storm is letting up.”

  The captain looked out the window. The snow came down less heavily and visibility had increased. Nine deaders stood motionless nearby, their heads and shoulders covered in several inches of snow, the closest over a hundred feet away.

  “Let’s be grateful for small favors, private.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hoskins voice came over the radio. “Captain Saunders, do you copy?”

  Saunders keyed the talk button. “I’m here.”

  “Hang tight, sir. We’re on our way to get you now.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “Fifteen minutes at most.”

  “Hurry up. We’re freezing.”

  “Don’t worry. The bus is nice and warm.”

  “Good. See you soon.”

  Saunders tried to stand but found it difficult. The wound did not hurt, but only because his legs were numb from the frigid temperature. He would be lucky if he didn’t lose the leg.

  “Do you need help, sir?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks. Help is on the way.”

  “I heard, sir.”

  About time, thought Saunders.

  * * *

  Kiera continued to take down any deaders that got near the Humvee. Alissa smiled. She was having way too much fun.

  Gary leaned out of the cab of his truck.

  “Which one of you is Alissa?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I just got a call from Woody. The bus is free and they’ll be here soon. You’re to fall in behind me.”

  “Will do.” She turned to Murphy. “Get in the back. We have room.”

  Murphy circled around the Humvee and opened the rear door. Shithead barked once and wagged his tail, then jumped into the back. Murphy spotted Nathan and paused.

  “It’s okay,” said Nathan. “I won’t bite.”

  Murphy climbed in and shut the door. “Sorry, sir. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  Alissa tugged on Kiera’s leg. She lowered herself into the cab.

  “What’s up?”

  “We’re moving out.”

  “Good. I’m almost out of ammo.” Kiera closed the door, dropped into her seat, and buckled in.

  The Mack pulled up alongside the other truck and stopped, then both vehicles accelerated, side by side. Alissa fell in a few yards to their rear. She glanced in her mirror. The bus followed a few yards behind, with the second Humvee bringing up the rear.

  Ahead of them, the plows slammed into the remaining deaders. Crushed bodies and severed limbs flew off to the sides. The spray from the tires mixed with the blood of the living dead covered the windshield. She switched on the wipers. They cleared away the spray, but blood streaked the glass, though not enough to prevent her from seeing.

  A deader in a county police uniform stood in the center of the road. The edge of one of the plows tore off its arm and knocked it off balance. Alissa could not swerve in time to avoid it. The grill smashed into the deader. It bounced onto the hood and across the windshield, ripping off the passenger side wiper before it slid across the roof and off the back. Shithead spun around and barked as it fell into the road, being crushed under the wheels of the school bus.

  After a quarter of a mile, th
ey passed through the horde and entered a stretch of isolated road heading north.

  The deaders that survived the onslaught, numbering approximately two hundred and fifty, stumbled along after the convoy.

  * * *

  Chris stamped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together to stay warm. Robson leaned against the bulkhead across from him, his right leg raised, massaging it vigorously. After a minute, he switched legs. When finished, he twisted his upper body from one side to the other.

  “You need to keep moving or you’ll freeze.”

  Chris slouched against the rear of the pilot’s seat and clutched his wounded leg. “My leg hurts too much.”

  “All the more reason.”

  Chris laid his head back. “We’re not going to make it out of this alive, are we?”

  “I won’t lie to you.” Robson began doing squats. “It doesn’t look good, but I think we’ll be fine. The others know we were flying back to the airfield. If they can’t reach us by radio, they’ll come looking for us.”

  “Where are they?”

  “We’re in the middle of a blizzard surrounded by deaders with groups of survivors spread all over the island. Give them time. We leave no one behind.”

  “I wish I had your optimism.” Chris used his hands to massage his leg as Robson had done. “I’m afraid our luck has run out.”

  “You’re right. If you rely only on luck, then you’re living on borrowed time. I don’t. I rely on skill, survival instincts, and my buddies. It’s how I survived three crash landings, one of them aboard the Iwo Jima.”

  Chris grinned. “Now you warn me about all the crash landings.”

  “That’s why I call it Miracle Air.” Robson reached over and gave Chris a friendly tap on the shoulder. “Hang in there a little longer. We’ll get out of this.”

  * * *

  The convoy continued north for two miles through the center of Islesboro until Main Road branched right toward the northern part of the island. Woody veered left onto West Bay Road and followed it for another three miles, circling around the airfield to the western side of the island. Just before Broad Point Reserve, he turned right onto Ferry Road and led the convoy down to Grindel Point, the location of the terminal. Here the snow was a pristine coating of white spread out across the area, the only things disturbing its beauty being the roofs of several buildings and nine deaders standing in the middle of the parking lot.