Z-Level 10: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel

by Cole, Michael

  Keegan moved to the other side of the large room, where an indoor shooting range was set up. Without putting on ear protection, he inserted the magazine and aimed the AK-9 down range. With it set on semi-automatic, he fired off three rounds. All the team could hear was a light puff with each shot, barely breaking the sound barrier. The puffs were rapid as he fired off the rest of the magazine in full auto, tearing up the paper target twenty meters at the end of the range.

  “Damn Russians making us look bad,” Carlson quipped.

  “We’re still here. They’re not,” Keegan said. He held the gun out for Carlson to take, then grabbed another example. “Also, we have the Suppressed M3A1 Grease Gun. Here, Dunn, this looks like your style.”

  “Thanks a lot, Sarge,” Dunn responded, taking the submachine gun from Keegan.

  “Listen up. We will be packing explosives, MP5s and Carbines along with us as backup, but we will primarily be using the weapons I’ve shown you here. Now get your asses geared up. I encourage you all to take a few practice rounds at the range there. Especially you, Carlson. We know you Air Force guys can’t shoot for shit. Army’s not much better. Meet in the hangar in ten.”

  “My feelings are hurt, Sarge,” Carlson quipped.

  “Feelings? Only pussies have feelings,” Keegan said. He picked up his AK-9 and walked toward the hangar. As he walked past Carlson, he allowed a brief smile. “That why you joined the Air Force?”

  “This is gonna be a long trip,” Carlson said. He joined the others at the range and fired off several rounds. The target at the end disappeared into a series of paper shards that sprinkled down, leaving several holes in the center. After emptying the magazine, he gazed at the weapon. The AK-9 was very quiet indeed.

  Reimer took several shots with the Accuracy International. Like the AK-9, it barely broke the sound barrier. Using the scope, he punched several rounds into the red of the paper.

  “I’ll be using this,” he said.

  “I’d take one of these as well,” Dunn said, handing him an AK-9. “The freaks aren’t gonna allow you time to get set up like that. Plus, I doubt there’ll be a nice fencepost for you to rest it on.”

  “In that country? I wouldn’t doubt it,” Bell said. The Army Ranger grabbed an AK-9 and familiarized himself. The weapon seemed to disappear in his enormous hands. The burly soldier emptied his mag. The weapon wasn’t too different from weapons he had fired in the past. In fact, he really liked it. He turned to look at his Army buddy, Bolden. “Maybe they’ll finally promote us when we get back.”

  “If we get back,” Dallas remarked.

  “Hell, I better make it back,” Bell said. “I was supposed to be out in March. That includes Reserve Duty.”

  “Wait,” Dunn said. He lowered his voice to not be heard by anyone outside. “You’re supposed to be out by now?”

  “Yeah. Wait? You too?” he asked.

  “Yes!” Dunn said. “I’m assuming you’ve been in for eight years. And you’re a Lance Corporal?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fuck, you should be a freaking Sergeant by now. Hell, maybe even an E-8 by now.”

  “What are you?”

  “E-fucking-2,” Dunn said. “They keep docking me. It’s almost like they’re trying to keep as many grunts as possible.”

  “There’s a lot of weird shit going on, man,” Dallas said. “I’m telling you, we’re not just doing typical rescue missions.”

  “Thank you!” Dunn said. “I’m telling you, these politicians are working around the system. The rules are simple. If it’s a Z-Level 6 or up, we don’t go in. Plain and simple. But yet, they keep sending us into these areas where the threat level “happens” to increase while we’re en-route. Every single time, we’re picking up somebody or something that has some sort of connection to the big wigs. Seems like if they owe a favor to a major contributor, boom! Just send the military to the rescue. No problem. We’ll only lose three more people than we’ll save. But hey, the special interest can still contribute to the presidency when he’s in behind the border.”

  “Fuck, man,” Dallas said. “There’s all kinds of shit going on. I heard one unit had to be diverted to the southeast bend of the wall to keep migrants from getting in. Another guy let it slip to me that he and his fellas had to burn a bunch of documents in a federal building.”

  “What the hell’s all that about?” Dunn said.

  “I don’t know, but it sounds like they’re erasing physical profiles of certain people. That, or there’s something else they don’t want anyone to know. Hell, maybe they’re the ones who started the apocalypse.”

  “Wouldn’t put it past them,” Dunn said.

  “Good God, you guys are paranoid,” Gordon said. He burst out in laughter as he strolled out the door.

  “He’s the patriotic type,” Dunn muttered.

  “I miss being that,” Dallas said.

  “I still am,” Bell said. “But it doesn’t mean I trust everyone calling the shots.”

  “HEY LADIES!” Keegan called. “The hell’s going on in there? Having an orgy or something?”

  “Hell, no, sir,” Dunn said. He went to the table and loaded up with grenades and Beretta magazines. “Shit!” he yelled as one grenade nearly slipped from his fingers. As he secured it, he could hear Carlson laughing at him. “What’s so funny, dweeb?”

  “You know what they say,” Carlson said. “Leave a marine in a round room with a steel ball, he’ll either loose it, break it, or get it pregnant.”

  “You know, you remind me of someone I knew at the enlistment office. He was standing by the Air Force desk, saw three pairs of marines standing in the booth and two sets of pull up bars. He wanted to go but realized he was too short to reach the bars. So, he stuck with the Air Force booth.”

  “Dude, stand straight. I’m an inch taller than you!” Carlson bantered.

  “Your ten minutes is up! Get your asses out here, ladies! On the double! Move it!”

  Even Dunn hustled at the sound of Keegan’s voice. He followed the rest of his squad outside, where the Sikorsky Super Stallion had been rolled out of the hangar. The ramp door yawned open under the ninety-nine-foot long aircraft’s tail. Standing outside the cockpit were the two pilots. The one with a Lieutenant insignia had a smile on his face as he prepared to board the craft. The other pilot noticed Dunn and Reimer’s odd expression as they noticed the jolly-looking pilot.

  “Don’t mind Lieutenant Heard, he’s an adrenaline junkie,” the other pilot said. “Don’t worry. Ensign Zucco,” he raised his hand, “is here to keep him from getting you into too much trouble.”

  “If he wants trouble, he’s going to the right place,” Reimer said.

  “Hell, if he’s looking for a rush, he can fast-rope down and I’ll fly the bird,” Dunn said.

  “He’s more of a ‘rollercoaster ride’ kind of a guy,” Zucco said.

  “Hell yeah,” Heard said. “Let’s get this rollercoaster ride on the way. Once more into the breach, dear mates!”

  “Your wife’s already been to my bunk,” Bolden called out.

  “Get aboard,” Keegan scolded them.

  “You can fly this thing, right?” Gordon said to Heard.

  “Is that a question?” Heard said.

  “Well, you know. I’ve seen plenty of montages of Navy aircraft splashing down. You guys are like ducks. Just can’t stay out of the water. And there’s a lake where we’re going.”

  “That why you couldn’t join the marines?” Dunn added.

  “Actually, I originally enlisted in the marines,” Heard said. “But then they said I wasn’t a good fit since my parents were married!”

  “Hey man,” Gordon joked. “Thank the marines for your existence! We invented sex!”

  “Yeah, but the Army introduced it to women!” Bell called out. Laughter echoed through the hangar as the men boarded the chopper. Heard and Zucco sat into the cockpit and activated the flight systems. The seven-blade rotor began to rotate as the hangar doors opened.
Sunlight streamed across the early morning horizon, reflecting off Heard’s aviator glasses.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said. The rotors increased speed, elevating the Super Stallion into a low hovering flight. With a change in angle, he accelerated the aircraft over the Border.

  Inside the cabin, the team continued exchanging their banter as they endured the mild turbulence from takeoff. Reimer sat quietly, grinning as he listened to the men exchange shots at the other military branches. This was a unique crew indeed, but it helped ease the stress of what was to come.

  Private Lowry was seated next to him. Unlike the others, he was not in the moment. He was constantly looking out the window. Every twitch in his face was reminiscent of someone on their first mission. It was something Reimer could relate to, even now.

  “You’ll be fine, kid,” he said.

  “I’m not sure I will. This is a fucking Z-Level 10,” Lowry whispered. “I’m not made for this, sir.”

  “Yes, you are,” Reimer said. “You’re a Marine, whether you want to be or not. Time to grow up and act the part. It’s the only way you’ll make it out alive.” Reimer wondered if he was only talking to the rookie, or himself as well. Suddenly, he found himself looking out the window. The chopper was only about three-hundred feet high. The Border was still in view. In front of it was a large moving mass comprised of hundreds of the undead. From high above they looked like ants trying to besiege an enemy anthill. Flamethrower units seared the corpses, driving them back and preventing them from forming mounds of bodies. From afar, the flames looked like tiny sparks as the chopper gained altitude and distance.

  “How long till we get there?” the nervous Lowry asked.

  “About five-hundred miles. The pilots are pushing our speed to one-ninety. About two-and-a-half hours.”

  Lowry laid his head back, nervously tapping his foot on the floor. The wait seemed to worsen his anxiety. Reimer could feel his heart fluttering as well. Each time he shut his eyes, he saw another flash of memories, many of them of teeth and curling fingers from outstretched hands. His nostrils were filled, not only with the rotting smell of corpses, but of fresh blood. Each time he lost a teammate, that smell was further ingrained in his senses. The very sight of his teammates, combined with his fear of what lay ahead, triggered that dreaded scent.

  Reimer stared at the window, trying to conceal the very same anxiety the rookie displayed.

  CHAPTER 10

  The landscape changed from coastal, to urban, to rural, as the chopper passed over miles of country. Gordon stared out the window, watching the scenery pass underneath as though on a film reel. As the pilots counted up their miles, the vegetation changed from pastoral to large groupings of trees including various firs, pines and broadleaf species. At the moment, the ground was still visible, displaying vacant communities and empty roads that stretched through the landscape like veins. But as he looked east, he saw nothing but green fill the upcoming countryside.

  All at once, it was beautiful and horrifying. From high above, the area seemed untouched, leaving a serene environment. But it was serene only to the naked eye. It was when his conscious mind remembered the death which lurked in that supposedly peaceful environment that the dreaded feeling took over. Looking closer, he could see cars and trucks overturned. Bridges had been collapsed either from explosives or under the excessive weight of vehicle pileups. In the ditches they crossed over were various smashed vehicles, some blackened by fire.

  A flashing streak of red suddenly passed high over the green landscape. Gordon’s eyes opened wide, now alert. A small trail of smoke twirled behind the streaking light.

  “Staff Sergeant!” Gordon called out. Keegan stepped out from his seat and hurried over. “We’ve got a flare! Someone’s trying to hail us.”

  Intrigued by the information, the team grouped to the starboard side. Pushing their faces into the windows, they watched the flare angle downward. It was nearly a quarter-mile off to starboard and was beginning to dissipate.

  “Looks like someone saw our chopper and are hoping for pickup,” Reimer said.

  “That’s a shame,” Dunn barked. Reimer and Gordon looked at him with disgust.

  “Seriously, dude?” Gordon said.

  “Yeah, seriously,” Dunn said. “That is not the mission. There’s a reason we’re not constantly setting down for pickups in this region.”

  “Lieutenant, how’s our fuel situation?” Keegan spoke into the headset’s microphone.

  “We have enough for a brief diversion,” Heard responded. “As long as you don’t spend too much time. This mission is under your jurisdiction, so it’s up to you.”

  Another flare ripped into the sky, launched from the same location.

  “Damn it, Sarge,” Gordon said. “We have plenty of room.”

  “True, but we don’t know how many fellas are hoping to fetch a ride,” Bell said.

  “The General didn’t specifically say anything against picking up stragglers along the way,” Carlson said.

  “No, he only repeated ‘Top Priority’ a hundred times,” Dunn said. “He’d be pissed if we risked our mission to check on someone…” he stood up, “who may be attempting to set up an AMBUSH and steal our supplies!”

  Keegan knew he had to make a decision fast. Doing so seemed to be getting harder and harder. Occasionally, he found himself being the judge between duty and morality. He always thought it would get easier with age and experience. Turns out he was wrong.

  “Damn it,” he muttered. “Pilots, take us in closer. Let’s have a look. If it’s too dangerous, we’ll move along.”

  “You got it,” Heard said. The chopper turned to starboard and zipped toward the flare.

  “You’ve got to be kidding, sir,” Dunn said.

  “Get a grip, Dunn,” Keegan said.

  “Not sure I disagree with him,” Dallas said.

  “I’m not sure I care,” Keegan responded.

  The chopper descended, barely clearing the fifty-foot trees as it passed over them.

  “It was over here somewhere,” Heard said. Suddenly, a voice started yelling over the radio receiver.

  “Looks like they’ve found our frequency,” Zucco said. “This is Echo-two-nine-Charlie, responding to emergency transmission.”

  “Oh, yes! Thank God! We’re less than a click to your right. We’re in a two-story house in a small clearing. You’ll see a big pond surrounded by a line of trees. We’re right to the northeast of it.”

  “Standby,” Zucco said. He looked over his shoulder at Keegan, who was now standing between them. “Your call, sir.”

  “How many are in their party?”

  Zucco relayed. “Sir, how many are in your party?”

  “Three. Myself, one female, and another male. We’re stuck on the roof. Those things, they’re in the attic!”

  Heard and Zucco glanced at each other, the former mouthing, “In the attic?”

  “Didn’t know ghouls were known for climbing,” Zucco remarked. He looked back up to the Sarge. “We’re not going to be able to land. You might be able to pull off a fast-rope incursion and haul them out with a harness.”

  “Coast Guard style,” Heard joked. He steered the Super Stallion ten degrees to starboard until he located the clearing in the woods. He brought its nose over the edge, immediately spotting the lake. “There!” He pointed to the right, where the large house resided over a large hill. The beach and shallow waters were crawling with the undead. The front door was busted inwards. From what he could gather, these people had been holding out for months, until finally the undead managed to force their way in. Whatever the case was, they were stuck on the roof. Three people waved at them near the chimney stack.

  “Fuck,” Keegan groaned. “How low can you get me?”

  “If you were just doing an incursion, you could do it as high as here,” Heard said. “But we’re talking about hauling up three persons. Which means, we’re gonna want a lower altitude to save time. But we don’t
want the downdraft to knock them right off the roof, so we can’t get too low. Best case, probably thirty-feet.”

  “Do it,” Keegan ordered. He hustled toward the back. “Reimer, you’re up!”

  Shit. The Corporal silently grabbed a harness from the rack. The shakes, which were absent through most of the trip, were making a surprise return. He did his best to suppress them as he clipped the harness over his torso.

  Dunn went up to him and helped him with attaching the spare harness to his. “Dude, you need to say something,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I’m telling you, your ass is being put on the line for nothing,” Dunn said.

  “Dunn!” Keegan called out. Dunn’s face tensed as he realized he’d been overheard.

  “Sergeant, you sure about this idea?”

  “Yes. And guess what? You just volunteered! Thank you for your contribution. Now get your harness on, because you’re going down there with him!”

  “Thanks a lot, Sarge,” Dunn said. Reimer tossed him another harness. As he clipped it on, the pilots lowered the chopped into a descent. Keegan opened the bottom hatch. The wind swirled into the fuselage like an invisible tornado. Directly beneath them was the roof and the three civilians. They were waving their arms wildly, as if somehow the chopper would take off if they stopped. The look on their faces was made of pure terror, and their screams rivaled the drone of the rotors.

  Reimer couldn’t help but notice various holes in the roof. From what he could tell, it wasn’t damage from wear and tear. Rather, they appeared fragmented as though something the size of a fist had burst its way up through from the attic.

  “What’s the holdup, PFC Dunn?” Keegan said.

  “No holdup, sir,” Dunn replied, his voice full of resentment. He clipped the secondary harness to his, then stood with Reimer at the hatch. Bell and Cable secured the ropes and handed one to the marines.

  “Have fun with that,” Cable said.

  “I see why you Navy guys aren’t going,” Dunn said. “No frogman down there to save your ass when you fall!”

  “Yeah, speaking of falling…don’t!” Cable said.