by Brown, TW
“He won’t be a problem.” Will stepped up beside Debra and tapped the blade on his right hip. “Let me take him and a mix of ours and theirs inside that tower to see if we can get to the people.”
“That leaves the rest of us to take out those fruit loops,” Debra said, licking her lips in an almost sexual expectation of the coming fight.
“Conrad is the priority. Tell him I sent you, and if they have kids, you need to pull him aside and let him know the rules.” Joel clapped Will on the shoulder and the men nodded at each other.
“Reggie, grab two of your people,” Will barked. “We are going inside the tower to see if we can get to the survivors.” As he walked away, he pointed to three of the volunteers that had come along. Joel almost vetoed Malik’s inclusion, but Will needed people who were good in a fight.
He watched as the team of seven dashed across the debris-filled swimming pool area and vanished into the ruined decorative vegetation. As soon as they emerged and hurried up the stairs to where the door had been removed and the noisemaker planted, he turned back to the others.
“This is not a capture mission,” Joel said to the remaining people in his group. “We are going in with the intention of maximum death count. No survivors. Is that clear?”
There were a few nods, but most just stared back grim-faced. One of the bikers raised a hand. “Everybody? I mean…what if we find women or children?”
“Maybe you weren’t listening, but that voice spewing nonsense was a woman. As for children…we don’t take children. You would be doing them a favor by giving them a quick ending.” Debra stepped forward and glared at the group. “If you aren’t on board yet, this is your last chance. Once you enter our community, there is no going back. We have an edict against children being brought in. They are an unnecessary drain on resources that will be too precious to spare for any who can’t pull their weight in the community.”
Joel hadn’t planned on saying anything quite so gruff, but he had to admit…it was the truth. He scanned the bikers and was not surprised when three more stepped away from the group.
“You gonna kill us like you did those others?” the woman with tattoos creeping up her neck asked with a sweet voice that was definitely at odds with her gruff exterior.
“Nope.” Now it was Joel’s turn. He was tired of the delays. It was time to get down to business. “Those people were ours, they deserted having sworn to our charter. You have never set foot inside our compound. You don’t know anything about our defenses or actual numbers.”
The trio of bikers that had stepped aside started to confer. Joel decided he didn’t have time for any more nonsense.
“Talk amongst yourselves if you want, but we’re moving out.”
Without another word, Joel started towards the storage buildings at the edge of the outdoor swimming area. He climbed up again and saw that the undead were thinning a bit, but there were still too many that had been drawn by the noisemaker in the area.
He had to wonder again how these things operated. On the surface, they seemed very simplistic. He was hoping that his deductions about their behavior was correct in that they would head after a sound and simply continue in that direction until something drew them in another.
He was about to find out. Easing down from the top of the wall, he looked down at the group.
“I need one volunteer.” He let his eyes scan the people massed below him. He was surprised to see that the three dissenters had apparently changed their mind about leaving and were still with the group. “There is a plus and minus to this mission. The good part is that you won’t be in the battle with these folks.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Carriage House. “The bad news is that there are still too many zombies in this area. We need to pull some of them away.”
“And how do you plan on us doing that?” one of the bikers asked, his voice more curious than upset or challenging.
“We use their own trick. The volunteer will make as much noise as possible and try to draw at least the mob on Audrie Street away.”
There was a moment of silence until one of the original three that had shown hesitation in continuing on with the mission stepped forward. “I’ll do it,” the tattooed woman said. “What should I use to make noise?”
“Bang on cars with the flat part of that axe on your belt,” Joel suggested. “It’s really only important that you make some noise and get as many of them to follow you as possible.”
The woman sighed. She turned to one of the other bikers and shrugged out of her small pack. “Take this. Something tells me that I’m gonna need to be able to run, climb, and who knows what else. If we both make it to the other side…I’ll get it from you then.”
“Okay…hug or whatever you need to do and then let’s get this show on the road,” Debra scolded.
“I’m about to risk my ass for you…maybe show a little courtesy?” the woman shot back.
“Yeah…you’re risking your ass and can basically run anywhere you want.” Debra stepped close to the woman until their noses were almost touching. “The rest of us are about to charge into what will likely be a nasty shootout against an unknown number of hostiles. Forgive me if I don’t lean over and kiss your ass.”
The woman’s mouth opened and then shut again. She pulled the hand axe free from the loop at her hip and climbed up to the top of the wall. She looked back at Joel and gave a nod. He returned it, and then she was gone.
A few seconds later the harsh clang of metal on metal sounded. The racket was punctuated by a terribly off-key rendition of what Joel thought might’ve been an old Pat Benatar song.
Moments later the sounds of gunfire came from within the tower where Will’s team had vanished. Joel peered over the top of the wall and saw that the herd in this area had thinned some. A small part of him wanted to wait just a few minutes more, but he knew from his time in Nam that battles often only last seconds. Every minute he delayed might be enough to cost them this fight. If they were going to strike, it had to be now.
“Let’s move,” Joel hissed, throwing one leg over the wall.
He landed on the ground just feet from a pair of walkers that were trying to turn around and face him with almost comical results as they bounced off each other in their uncoordinated effort to get at him.
Before they had a chance, Joel stuck one and then the other. He would not wait for the rest of his team any more than he would expect them to wait for him. Joel took off across the street, shoving zombies aside and, in one instance, grabbing one by the arm and slinging it into a small group that might present a problem if he didn’t get rid of a couple. His attempt was almost like some twisted version of bowling as his projectile-zombie stumble-slammed into the little cluster.
A few fell backwards and that was enough to create a domino effect beyond his hopes. Only two remained standing, and neither were close enough to lay hands on him. It almost felt like he’d had to sprint the distance of four football fields, not simply the four lanes of this one street, but at last he reached the other side and jumped up, grabbing the top of the wall that bordered this part of the Carriage House and pulled himself up.
He shot one look over his shoulder and winced as he saw two of the bikers running for one of the breaches in the wall. Obviously they’d decided that the easiest way through was preferable to the clearest section of street. As he threw his other leg over and dropped to the ground, he heard a scream that quickly changed in register.
Looking around, Joel spotted a solid metal door—obviously some form of emergency exit—and sprinted for it. A blur passed him as Debra sped past and vaulted up onto the stairs. She gave the door an experimental tug and then stepped back and to the side as she brought her shotgun around.
Joel held up and waited as Debra fired. There was a thundering boom and then she grabbed what was left of the handle and jerked the door open. A man inside the entrance was bringing his rifle to his shoulder, but Debra fired again, her blast catching the man in the
chest, sending him staggering back, a splatter of red spraying the wall behind the man as his back was blown out.
“Anything that moves!” Joel shouted again as he charged in with Debra.
13
Pros Versus Joes
There was just a brief moment when Joel thought that maybe they would at least have an easy start of things. Then the sounds of footsteps approaching erased any such hope. And there were a lot of them.
Debra slammed into a door to their right, crashing through and splintering the frame. Joel followed suit and charged to the first door on his left. He felt a dull pain in his shoulder and winced as he smashed through and tumbled to the floor of an empty hotel room.
Scrambling to his feet, Joel pressed himself against the wall as three bikers and one of his own people charged in behind him. A fifth person was just reaching the doorway when a hailstorm of gunshots sounded. The woman was looking right at Joel as her body jerked and twitched. For some reason, he thought he saw the exact moment that life left her as the eyes dulled and she slumped to the floor.
Throwing the barrel of his M4 into the hall and pointing it in the general direction their attackers should be, Joel squeezed the trigger, sending a volley in return as the rest of his team joined either him, Debra, or busted in another door in a desperate attempt to find cover.
Another barrage of gunfire came, drowning out any ability to shout orders. Joel could see across the hall to Debra and noticed a dark stain blooming on her left shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice as she rummaged through the small pack she carried. When they’d been clearing the first neighborhood, Joel had commented about how she seemed to always have the right tool or item in it.
“Batman had a utility belt…I have this,” she’d said with a shrug.
When she pulled out a canister and a small, round device, he actually smiled. He continued to watch as she pulled the pin and tossed it up the hallway towards their attackers. He followed her lead, turning his back just as the muffled blast sounded. Even with his back turned, he saw spots in front of his eyes when the flash-bang went off. He continued to keep his back to the doorway, knowing that she wasn’t done. That was confirmed seconds later when an explosion shook the floor enough to topple one of the lamps on a nightstand beside the bed in this room.
Before the ringing in Joel’s ears could die down, Debra had rushed out into the hallway and opened fire with her shotgun. He briefly wondered if his hearing would ever recover. Even as close to her as he was, the weapon was seriously muted.
Bringing up his own rifle, he followed her lead and stepped out into the smoke-filled hallway. Bodies were scattered on the floor. A few were very obviously dead. Some were seriously injured and despite his disdain for them, Joel could not leave them to suffer. He shouldered his rifle and switched to his Beretta. As he waded through the dozen bodies scattered on the floor, he put a single bullet into the head of any that showed signs of life.
Debra was of a similar mindset, but she opted for her blade. Joel had considered it, but decided that noise wasn’t an issue at this point. Additionally, he felt a quick death with a pistol was easier and less personal. After all, despite what some people might believe…he did have a conscience.
They reached the first stairwell and one of the bikers was reaching for the handle when Debra lunged forward and cold-cocked him square in the face. The man fell back, his hands flying to his nose. Blood was already pouring through his hands and a few of the bikers were already swinging their weapons around to the woman.
“Trap,” Debra said calmly as if a handful of pistols and rifles weren’t trained on her.
Joel looked past her and saw a thin copper wire running from the handle and through the door jamb. She knelt down and examined it, lips pressed tight in concentration. As for the bikers, they glanced at their comrade and then amongst each other, none of them entirely happy with how she’d handled the situation, but apparently each one deciding that a punch in the face was preferable to whatever waited for them on the other side of that door.
“Somebody grab a mattress from one of the rooms,” Debra called over her shoulder.
Joel was amazed at how she continued to act as if nothing had happened. It was only then that he realized he’d aimed his own pistol at one of the bikers. He dropped his own arm when he realized that the man was still staring at him with more than just a little concern.
It took a moment, and Joel sent a couple of people back to where they’d entered to ensure they didn’t get any surprise guests from that direction while they waited for the mattress to be manhandled out into the hallway. While everybody did what they were told, Debra slid the blade of one of her knives into the door where it latched. Next, she produced what looked like a leather shoelace and tied it to the door handle.
Once the mattress was brought to the door, Debra had two members of the team hold it in place from the sides. She gave the leather cord a tug, pulling the door open. There was a loud sizzle and then an explosion that, even though it was muffled by the mattress, still caused the ringing in Joel’s ears to return with a vengeance.
When the smoke began to clear, Joel could see that the mattress was now a smoldering mess and both of the people who’d been holding it were sitting on the floor against the opposite wall. Both of them looked more than just a little dazed. Debra was helping one of them to their feet, and Joel stepped in to help the other.
It took a moment to shake off the daze, but then everybody was ready to move out again. They started up the stairs with Debra on point. They hit the next obstacle on the sixth floor. A very fine trip wire was set at almost the perfect location. Joel was certain that had anybody else been leading the way, they would have snagged it.
The entire time they climbed, Joel could hear muffled sounds of gunfire in sporadic bursts coming from up above. Also, the person who’d spoken earlier was occasionally saying something on a megaphone, but being in the stairwell made it impossible to make out.
“I want to get to wherever these lunatics are, if for no other reason than to shut that bitch up,” Debra snarled as they passed the seventh floor.
As they reached the ninth, this was their destination, of that there could be no doubt. The voices could be heard as orders were being relayed. Also, there was some sort of odd rhythmic droning taking place. Joel was trying to figure it out when one of the bikers said, “Is somebody singing?”
“A few somebodys,” Debra agreed. She reached for the door after giving it a careful inspection.
Her hand grasped the lever that would open it and she suddenly began to jerk and twitch violently. Joel jumped back as her free arm came out and flailed wildly. Just as suddenly as it started, it ended with the woman glancing over her shoulder, a wicked grin on her face. “Just kidding.”
“That’s messed up,” somebody muttered.
Joel agreed, but he couldn’t help but smile. He gave a nod and she pressed the lever slowly to try and prevent any sound from giving them away. Part of him felt that this had been too easy, but then he remembered he was dealing with what were probably just regular civilians. They more than likely thought their little attack team on the ground floor, along with the pair of traps, would be enough to keep most people from reaching them.
As soon as the door opened a crack, a wave of sound poured out into the stairwell. Something odd drifted in with the noise and the low hum that might be a group of people singing Amazing Grace. It took Joel just a few seconds to process it, but what he heard were the sounds of people screaming through gags or something that muffled their voices. That meant that perhaps not everybody was here of their own free will.
Any other time, he would perhaps see about setting hostages free. At the moment, that would not be a priority. While some would consider this a heartless move, Joel saw it as practical, based on the situation. His main objective was to end this radical sect that was acting under a guise of some twisted religious ideals that had nothing to do with anything close to biblical.
&nbs
p; They were in a corner and could look left down a long hall that ran parallel to the towers, and to the right down a shorter corridor. Doors lined both walls, and most of the ones along the side that looked out at the towers were open. Most of the sporadic gunfire came from those.
The singing came from the right. Joel tapped two of his people on the shoulder and then pointed to them, his eyes, and then the shorter hallway. They nodded in understanding and slunk away, each of them hugging a wall. Joel started down the long one, stopping at the first open door and signaling for everybody to halt as he peeked inside.
The room was exactly what you would expect for a middle-class hotel room. All except for the three people at the full-length window with rifles to their shoulders. Against the wall on either side were a half dozen more weapons leaned against the wall, and on the bed, were broken open cases of ammunition and a few dozen magazines: some loaded…some not.
Moving into the room after making certain that everybody knew to stay put, Joel moved briskly and with purpose. He crossed the room without alerting the trio and reached them, choosing the individual on the right at random. As quick as he could, Joel stepped in, grabbed the man around the throat and drove the blade in his hand into the lower back where he guessed the kidneys to be. The other two barely had time to react before Joel whipped up his pistol and shot both of the other two in the chest.
They all dropped or slid to the ground and Joel gave a low whistle signaling everybody to join him. He gestured to the rifles and ammunition. Then he went to the bed and started inserting rounds into any of the empty magazines. It only took a moment for everybody to catch on and join him. In no time, they had the magazines loaded and divided up among those who snagged one of the rifles in the room.
They repeated the routine twice more. Each time, Joel wondered if perhaps he’d given this group too much credit for being a threat. It was becoming clear that they didn’t really have a solid structure. They were also grossly overconfident. Nobody was even glancing back at the open door…at least not before he’d gotten in and stuck somebody.