Jacobs falls over backwards with the kid on top of him, feels intense pain from his right ankle as it twists…
“Fuck!” he shouts, trying to keep the snapping teeth off of him. His gloved left hand is beneath the kid’s chin, and his right still holds the pistol, but for the moment it is pinned between their bodies.
Don’t panic! Inhuman strength or not, Jacobs outweighs the kid. He bucks his hips and rolls. His gun hand is free and he fires once, twice and the head explodes blood and bits of gore everywhere.
Jacobs rises to his knees, screaming as his right ankle gives out. The third zombie, another teenager is almost on top of him. He aims, and fires. The boy’s shoulder jerks, but he keeps coming. Fires again. A black hole appears just above the eyebrow, and a burst of gore explodes from the back of his head. The corpse starts to fall, and then Booth and Lepski are there, helping him up. Carrying him at a run toward the chopper.
“We’re outta here, Sarge,” says Lepski, “just hang in there.”
“The hell we are,” he snarls back. He looks at each of his men, and doesn’t like what he sees there. All three look tired and beaten down. None of them apparently share his rage over Watson’s fate.
I’ve lost them.
Doesn’t matter. I won’t quit.
Lepski and Lassiter help him into a chair and buckle him in. The rest of Jacobs’ men pile in and get settled. Jacobs grabs Lassiter by the collar. “Get me a fucking headset!” Meanwhile, he can feel the chopper climbing, as his stomach gives a lurch.
Lassiter scowls at him, but hands him the headphones that connect the crew together. The moment he puts it on, Jacobs snaps, “Duncan, I want you to fire your rockets into the Cop Shop.”
There is silence for a moment, as if the pilot, Captain Pete Duncan, is considering the request.
Finally, the man answers, “What the hell, Jacobs? You lost your mind?” “Just do it and I’ll explain later.”
“I’ll put forward your request soldier. Sit tight.”
“Goddamn it, sir! That fucking place is loaded with ghouls! Just do it!”
“Take the headset from him, Chief. I don’t want to listen to anymore of his shit.”
Jacobs stares at Lassiter. The guy is pushing fifty and has a fucking jowl under his chin. Might have been something ten years ago, but he’s going soft now.
Watson is going to be avenged. They took his body.
Jacobs raises the pistol still cradled in his hand. “Fire the rockets, sir, or I’ll put a hole in Chief Lassiter.”
Natalie
She wakes, shivering.
I’m soaked.
Cracks an eye open.
At first, what she sees doesn’t register, but details emerge: a short, slightly sloping piece of metal is right below her cheek. Further up she can see a car’s glass window.
I’m lying on a car’s trunk. Something is burning.
Don’t move. Just listen. Think things over.
The inner voice is her Mom. She was always telling her to think things over, and be careful.
She shivers, and this triggers another immediate realization: I’m naked! Why? What happened to me?
She was in the car with Sam. They were fooling around. He was finally mine!
All it took was a little strip show. Well, to be honest, putting her bare foot onto his crotch put the poor guy over the edge. And his bitch girlfriend was out of the picture!
Someone attacked us! The Goths! Now, the whole scene comes back to her.
Sam was knocked out immediately. They just left him behind the wheel, while they dragged her from the car, kicking and screaming. The worst part was that the two Goth girls were helping.
She closes her eyes, and pushes away the memory. Focus!
Very carefully, she slides an arm beneath her chest and pushes up.
The sun is rising on a scene from hell.
Sam’s car is gone. Several bodies lay close by. One of them is Tim the Goth, dead, and best of all, not moving. She raises up a bit, and looks to her left, toward the mall. Monk is there, sprawled face down. The t-shirt and wild mop of hair give him away. He also looks dead. A single plume of smoke rises beyond him, from the mall, probably the entrance by Sears.
No sign of the Goth girls.
The fire engine is gone.
Either, they all left her, or they are dead.
She passes a hand through her hair, and brushes away a tear.
Why’d you leave me, Sam?
Anton
The power flickers, then resumes. Anton reaches out and hits the seek button on the radio. The warning tone for an emergency sounds as the next station locks in. “Standby for a live update from the Emergency Broadcast System. This is not a test…”
“Might have something here, people!” Anton says.
The first one over is that overstuffed weight-lifter named Keller. “What do you have there, sir?”
“Use that walkie and get a hold of Talaski, will you? I think we’re about to hear a message from the Feds.”
“Sure.”
Keller walks off to the side.
Anton looks around. “Where are the others? I think everyone would like to hear an update.”
Amy is right at his elbow talking to Debbie. She speaks up, “I saw that janitor guy leave, and then Trish followed him. I think they went to the roof. Talaski and the guy who looks like Freddie Mercury said something about getting more weapons.”
The only other people are that trashy-looking woman named Suzy, and the fireman named Mills. He can see the two of them talking over near the windows that look over Tropicana Field.
“Who’s Freddie Mercury, oh never mind, I’ll record the message just in case then,” Anton says.
Keller comes back. “Talaski needs me to help carry guns and ammo up. Anybody else want to help?”
“I’ll go,” says Amy, “but I’m not very strong.”
“Me too,” says Mills.
“Count me in,” says Suzy.
Anton grunts, “Well hurry back. That message may be important. We may need to make a decision fast.”
Debbie comes over and stands behind him. He feels her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll stay here with you Anton.”
At that moment, they hear: “This is not a test. The ‘No Live’ order has been rescinded. All government personnel have instructions to help all uninfected citizens to a safe area. The following are all current safe zones for the Tampa Bay Area: The Skyway Bridge; Coquina Key Island; Tierra Verde Island; Weedon Isle; Egmont Key; the St Pete-Clearwater Airport; Venetian Isles. This message will repeat and update every hour.”
Hadley
There is just a light chop on the water. Hadley stands at the rail and stares over at the still burning rear area of the cruise ship. They call it the stern or something. Lionel’s kid was so sure his Dad was over there. Course, I beat the odds again. Still alive. Lucky like that.
How the hell am I still alive? Somebody is playing a joke on me Marge. Like that day I beat the odds in Nam.
He closes his eyes. Can still see and feel the sun through his lids. Just like that day.
“What do you see out there, Jube? Why did you stop?” asked his friend, Sergeant TJ ‘Hazy’ Harriman. Guy’s breath always smelled of that gook fish sauce. Nuoc Mam or something like that.
Hadley let out a pent up breath. “I don’t see ‘em, Hazy, but I can hear ‘em. Fifty or so feet on the far side of that hammock. Two or three of them at least.”
Hazy raised a bushy eyebrow and mouthed the word, “Gooks?”
“What do you think? Jesus man, it’s a wonder we’re all still alive!”
“You’re the charm, Jube. We haven’t got hit with you walking point yet.”
“Yet, is the key word, Hazy. I’ll fuck up sooner or later.”
“Let’s back off then, and I’ll call in an airstrike.”
“Sounds good, I’m…”
Twenty or thirty feet away, someone yelled in Vietnamese. Right after, at least ten AK-4
7 assault rifles fired nearly as one. A grenade went off. Men screamed. The AKs continued to fire. The voice of a guy named Yodges begged for mercy. The men that were with him and Harriman were being slaughtered. Yodges voice cut off. Did they kill him? Hadley never knew.
Ten guys to two guys in a few seconds.
Could anybody be alive on that ship?
Minute by minute, the odds are shrinking.
The cab driver, Graham steps up beside him. He looks a little better than he did. The boat actually has a shower and he must have used it. His hair is still wet, and he’s now wearing some jeans, a light blue t-shirt and sneakers.
“Everybody’s ready for the meeting, Jubal. You ready?”
“Yeah! Our asses are hanging out here. Those choppers come back and we are meat for the grinder.”
“Ozzie is keeping a look-out.”
“Good.”
Hadley follows the younger man into the boay’s cabin. Tracks, Bronte and Janicea are all sitting on the couch, while Graham sits on a folding chair. The two kids and the dog are in one of the bedrooms.
Hadley decides to take the blunt approach, and says, “Let me lay this out for you people. We don’t have much in the way of fire power. Graham has a rifle, and a bunch of pistols. Tracks has a shotgun. Bronte, Ozzie Janice, and I have pistols. Ammo for all the guns is ok, but not ideal.”
He has their attention. The cards are down and they all know it.
“We have some food, but not enough.”
No one argues.
“I figure we have three choices. One, we go ashore and try to get to the police station. Two, we head for Weedon Island to the Power Plant and hope we find all we need there. Three, we check out the cruise ship and take what we need from there, then we head for one of the two places I mentioned.”
Tracks is the first to speak up. “May be survivors on the ship.”
“Maybe,” says Janicea, “but I bet it’s mostly dead people.”
Graham stands up, “If there are survivors, and we help them clear the ship, we may have a good safe place to operate from. We are going to need a doctor at some point. Who knows, we might find some real good people on board.”
“Anything to say, Bronte?” Hadley asks.
Bronte nods, “I say we grab some guns and food and get the hell off that ship as quick as we can.”
“Be a death trap,” says Tracks.
“So, if we go, who is going?” asks Graham. “Someone needs to stay with the kids.”
Tracks cuts in, “Ozzie and Janicea stay. Maybe the Chief too.”
“Because I’m old?” Hadley asks.
“Something like that. Face facts.”
Janicea turns to Tracks. “And the woman watches the kids, right?”
“Right!” says Bronte.
“What about that supply convoy that got ambushed near the store, Bronte?” asks Janicea. “Near Thrill Hill.”
Bronte raises a bottle of water to his lips, and drinks about half of it.
“Ozzie’s boat might make it up that canal. I’d like to hear what everyone else thinks, but that might be an excellent place to get supplies.”
“The ship is right here,” Hadley says.
Tracks leans forward in his chair, “Death waiting on it.”
Talaski
He has all the food and ammo they can carry lined up and ready, stowed in backpacks. Beside each backpack is a holstered pistol with a belt, and a bigger gun.
Mitch opens the door and steps inside. He pulls a pack of cigarettes and lighter from his shirt pocket and proceeds to light up. “What’s wrong officer? I don’t see any pleasure police around here.”
Can I let this guy live? He knows he is frowning, and knows that the guy doesn’t understand why. Sometimes silence works best. Makes worms like Mitch crazy.
“Maybe it’d be easier to just loot one of the vans?” the guy, Mitch says. He turns back to Talaski with the panorama of the armory behind him.
“What did you take?”
Mitch frowns. “Twenty M-16s maybe? Couple of MP-5s. Bunch of pistols. Ammo for all of them.”
“What else is in the vans?”
“Food, water and booze. Thank god we didn’t have the propane loaded in them yet.”
“So, let’s put everything in perspective here. You cut a deal with Dodd, killed two or three cops, took what you wanted, then left everyone else here to die. Did I miss anything?”
The guy grins, shrugs and his eyes make contact with Talaski’s. “I wouldn’t have cut Dodd out, but he left Carlos to die. I couldn’t let that pass.”
Probably the truth.
“Why’d you come back?”
“The truth is, at first, I thought Dodd double-crossed us. When I ran over that guy…” Mitch still meets his gaze. Might actually be telling the truth on this one, too.
“What guy?”
“Turns out he was some kind of soldier. But then, all I knew was here’s a guy running in the street. I could’ve swerved, I guess, but I said afuck-it? and ran over him. A second or two later the whole world opens fire on us.”
“What’s all this got to do with coming back?”
“Revenge at first. I thought Dodd set up an ambush. When I found out later that I ran over a soldier then I knew it wasn’t something Dodd cooked up. Suzy and I ran into Sparky and the Angel and decided to join you.”
“Sparky and the Angel?”
“The firefighter and the little blonde.” Mitch trails off, as they both turn toward the sound of footsteps and echoed voices. “Speaking of that, here they all come officer.”
Talaski grins, “I want to know what’s motivating you. Think long and hard about your answer.” He draws and points his Glock at Mitch.
“Yeah, sure officer…” Mitch turns back toward him, and gives a start.
“Got a special deal for you here. Judge and jury all wrapped into one bullet.”
“Listen, I swear, seriously, I swear I’m committed to helping and being part of the team. Give me a chance officer.”
“Okay, let’s see some ID, then. If I can trust you, we’ll know real soon, Mister Fallon. Running you through the computer ought to give me a good picture of who you are, assuming you haven’t been lying, right Mitch?”
“I haven’t lied, officer.”
“Maybe not, but I still want your ID anyway.”
Mitch is shrinking, compressing himself, and his eyes are downcast. Making less of a target? “I don’t have my ID on me.”
“No? I don’t believe you. What do you think of that?”
Mitch smiles politely, but says nothing.
“Put your hands up against the wall. Now!”
Foster
Lieutenant Green’s face is haggard, and his shoulders are slumped. “Lance Mathers wants his interview with you, Mr. President. What do I tell him?”
“You tell him to cool his heels. Any word on where Edwards is?”
“We think he got caught in the riots near Baltimore, sir. Not sure if he is trapped or dead.”
“What about the mess at the Pentagon?”
“No word sir. We evacuated the Joint Chiefs and their families, but everyone else got left behind. We’ve put as many of our ships back to sea as possible, and we are in the process of consolidating as many ground combat forces as we can. We’ve lost a lot of National Guard units already, due to being spread too thin.”
“Are the Joint Chiefs in route to here, then?”
“Yes sir, if nothing goes wrong.”
Keep focused. Be a man. “You got a list of secured areas?”
“Right here, sir.”
Foster draws a breath, not even glancing at the list, “What’s the situation in Florida?”
He can see the lieutenant hesitate, knowing where this is going. “Below the line we established from St. Marks to Jacksonville, all is chaos. Managed to get an Army Reserve MP company based in Tampa activated and sent them to MacDill Air Force Base. The Army Reserve Units in St. Petersburg may need to be writte
n off. A special operations unit has been operating in St. Pete, from MacDill, but it looks bad sir. They have been busy trying to enforce the No Live order, but we canceled that hours ago. Hopefully it got through to the Spec Ops unit.”
“So there is no word on my wife and children then.”
“No certain word, no. Just two unsubstantiated rumors. One, her chopper went down somewhere near Weedon Island, not far from the Gandy Bridge, and another that places them further south not far from the Skyway.”
He can’t help himself, and tears form. I am a man first. Husband. Father. President is just what I do.
“Is there any other assets we could put on this?”
“Couple of Coast Guard Cutters are guarding the Skyway and the shipping channel into Tampa Bay. They have set up a little base on some barges under the bridge, and they have quite a collection of ships they have boarded and impounded. One’s an oil tanker. Got another cruise ship, and that’s another headache according to this report. The people on board want to be released. At least two outbound freighters loaded with foodstuffs also.”
“Those men have their hands full. We can’t use them.”
“I’ll check into it, Mr. President. Perhaps there are some surviving units we can locate.”
“Good work, Green. Now get to it.”
“And what do I tell Mr. Mathers?”
“When I have something to say, he’ll know.”
Hold on Juliet, my love.
Trish
Once he starts talking, the little man won’t stop.
“I’ll be your friend, Morgan, and that’s more than I’ll say to most of the others.”
She watches that one sink in. He lowers his eyes, and she can almost see hope dying in them, and then his features settle into a resigned frown. He is old enough that the lines in his face give her the idea that this is his typical expression. Is he just unhappy, or maybe a little disturbed also?
“I think we should head in. We need to find out what kind of plan we need. Get Talaski moving on this.”
Crushed another heart, Trish. Good move.
“Sure Morgan. Let’s see what’s up.”
Just then, the sound of a helicopter’s rotors and motor echoes toward them. The steady thump gets closer, and then they see it.
“That’s one of those Blackhawks,” Morgan says.
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