by Dana Fredsti
Gabriel took us to the range, which turned out to be a closed off hallway with a bunch of sandbags stacked against the far wall. That’s where I discovered that I love shooting things. And somebody actually makes zombie targets for shooting ranges—I’m pretty sure they weren’t government issue, either. Before you knew it, I blew the shit out of Zombie Steve.
The first half hour was pure fun because Gabriel operated on the assumption that nobody had ever handled a gun before, so we got to start ‘plinking’ with little 22 caliber pistols and rifles.
“Even a small bullet, placed in the right part of a zombie’s head, will do the necessary brain surgery to put them down,” Gabriel explained.
The 22s had no kick at all, kind of like a pellet gun or even one of those old rat-rubber pistols my friends and I used to play with. Lots of hours spent shooting each other in parks and playgrounds, and even more hours picking up the little yellow ‘bullets.’
Then we moved up to military grade stuff, which is when Gabriel went all anal and practically fingerprinted each of us before letting us play with the weapons.
The Colt M-4 was okay. I mean, everyone’s seen them on TV, anytime there’s police action or a swat team. Jack Bauer used one on 24. Still not much of a kick, and pretty easy to shoot.
Next we played with military pistols, Beretta 9 mms and some other stuff. A Glock, blocky and ugly looking, but fun.
There was a .45 pistol Gabriel called a 1911. A bad boy that looked as if it came straight out of a gangster film. As far as I was concerned, it could stay there; it was a pain in the ass to shoot.
Finally the shotguns were wheeled out, and they made the 1911 feel like a .22 in comparison. Winchesters and Remingtons, all 12 gauge that kicked like a pissed-off mule. Then I spotted a little cut-off double-barrel number that totally looked like something from The Road Warrior. Immediately I wanted to try it, but Tony beat me to the punch and snatched it out from under me.
“Creep,” I muttered.
“You snooze, you lose,” he said with a smirk.
He aimed and gave the target both barrels. The shotgun bucked back and smacked his chin hard enough to knock him on his ass.
“Way to go, Mad Max,” I said, helping him to his feet. “Bet you wish you’d snoozed a little more.”
“No way,” Tony replied. He rubbed his jaw while staring at the double-barrel monster with a look of love. “This thing rocks!”
Gabriel also gave us a few shots with an autofire shotgun, and weirdly, it had damn near no kick at all, which was really cool.
So cool, in fact, that they were only given to the trained military personnel—which didn’t include the wild cards.
“You all,” Gabriel informed us, “will be using the M-4s.”
Tony clutched his double-barreled baby to his chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to smuggle it out under his shirt.
Jane huddled behind the desk in her manager’s office, doing her best not to make any noise that could draw their attention.
They’d descended on the store without warning, at least a dozen of them. They were people she recognized, but... wrong. Bloody wounds, chunks of flesh missing, black fluid running out of noses, eyes and mouths. She’d watched The Walking Dead. She knew what they were, didn’t waste time telling herself that it was impossible.
So while the rest of her co-workers and the few customers were busy screaming in disbelief as they were pulled down and torn to pieces, Jane had run into the office, locked the door, and shoved a filing cabinet in front of it. She added another cabinet behind the first. If they did manage to break open the door, she hoped they wouldn’t be able to push it open far enough to squeeze inside.
Then she hid, just in case one of them should peer in through the small office window and try to break the glass. If they didn’t see her, maybe they’d go away.
After they finished eating.
Everything was happening quickly, on a super-accelerated schedule, as we had to process concepts and emotions we could never have imagined. To paraphrase Predator—one of my favorite testosterone-drenched flicks—we didn’t have time to bleed.
Gabriel believed in repetition, the old ‘practice makes perfect’ routine for each and every thing he taught us. Luckily part of the wild card legacy is great stamina.
Mack kept up with the rest of us, despite his age. I spotted a pleased grin on his face one day, after he executed a drop-and-roll maneuver as smoothly as a twenty-year-old. From that point on, I started ignoring his muttering about aching joints and creaky knees.
Gabriel, on the other hand...
It struck me in the middle of a training session. He still looked gorgeous, but he also just looked, well, off. His skin was sallow and his eyes had developed deep hollows under them. I thought about asking him if he was okay, but couldn’t quite summon up the courage.
Plus I was busy fending off Kai and Lily, both of whom were coming at me with bokkens. Kai had wanted to use steel instead of wooden training swords, but Gabriel nixed that.
“Shouldn’t we just be practicing head cuts here?” I asked. “I mean, what’s the point of sparring?”
Gabriel shot me an irritated don’t be stupid look.
“The best way to learn is by facing the real possibility of being hurt.”
“Then why aren’t we using real swords?”
That’s when he’d sicced Kai and Lily on me.
Bastard.
Simone came in around four or so, accompanied by Dr. Albert and a soldier lugging a bunch of bottled waters. While the rest of us collapsed in mid-grapple, I stifled a laugh as Jamie stood up straight and sucked in her non-existent stomach.
Simone handed Gabriel a bottle of water.
“How’s it going?” she asked, and she looked at him intently.
Gabriel grunted in response, twisting the cap off the bottle and downing most of its contents in one gulp. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.
“Gabriel,” Simone said, “Dr. Albert needs to have a word with you.”
He nodded.
“Take five, everyone,” he said, and I wondered if anyone else noticed the odd gravelly undertone to his normally smooth voice. He followed Dr. Albert out of the room while Jamie jumped up to help Simone distribute the rest of the bottles.
Lying on the floor on my back, I rolled the ice-cold plastic over my forehead, neck, and chest. It was both shocking and refreshing. Shutting my eyes, I focused on deep breaths as my heartbeat returned to normal. The respite was so good as to be almost orgasmic, like a hot shower after a few days of camping and hiking.
Come to think of it, a hot shower sounds pretty good about now too, I mused.
I wondered what was up with Gabriel. Simone had said he was ‘different.’ Not wild card different—I was sure of it. Something else. But what? I was curious, but also concerned. He drove me crazy at times, but I found myself appreciating him a lot more than I had back when our entire interaction had been based on pissing each other off.
Not that it wasn’t still fun, in its own way.
“Is this our new team, Professor Fraser?”
I jumped as a rich, hearty baritone voice spoke above me, sounding like the words of a Shakespearean hero—totally James Earl Jones. My eyes flew open and I sat up, dropping my water bottle in surprise. Jamie smirked. But I ignored her and checked out the newcomer.
Dressed in army fatigues, he was skinny and short, and his features looked like the sad side of a comedy-and-tragedy mask. His eyelids drooped and his mouth actually turned down at the corners.
“Did I startle you, young lady?” he said. “My apologies.”
Ohmigod, it was like watching a dubbed Chinese movie, the type where the voiceovers didn’t match the actors at all. I mean, the words and his mouth were in sync, but the voice so didn’t go with that face.
I tried not to giggle.
“Ah, er, no... No problem,” I said.
“Team, this is Colonel Paxton,” Simone said. “He’s replaced G
eneral Heald as commander of this operation.” Her tone, while not effusive, was warmer than it had been when addressing Paxton’s predecessor. I hoped this meant he was less of an asshole.
The Colonel nodded.
“It’s good to meet you all,” he said, nodding to each of us in turn. “Welcome aboard.”
I swear, he had the sort of voice you’d follow into battle, but coming out of the face of a court jester. There was nothing funny about what he said next, however.
“Professor Fraser, we have an emergency.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
* * *
“Well, shit.”
Standing in the lobby of Patterson Hall and looking out onto the quad with the rest of the wild cards, I had to agree with Tony’s assessment.
What I could see of the campus looked to be crawling with the walking, rotting dead, including at least a dozen in military uniforms. The protective neck and headgear they were wearing would make it fun to try and deliver a killing blow, I mused.
The setting sun lent an eerie crimson glow to the scene.
Colonel Paxton nodded.
“Shit, indeed, young man,” he said. “Until this morning, we had control of the campus and were moving into the town to sweep it clean and rescue survivors. But with the increased infection rate among our own teams, the zombies have been coming from the outlying areas and overwhelming our forces, which in turn are joining the ranks of the enemy. We need to clear the immediate perimeter while our engineers erect a protective barrier around the campus.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer to get the barrier in place now, and then clear the interior?” Kai asked.
Paxton frowned.
“If we had the luxury of time, yes. But the barrier needs to go up so we can establish a safe base of operations, and a place to house additional survivors. Patterson Hall is dangerously overloaded, and we don’t dare wait any longer.
“This operation will be dangerous,” he said, turning to face us.
Wow, total understatement.
“I hadn’t wanted to put you into the field so soon,” he admitted. “Unfortunately most of our soldiers will be protecting the engineers who are building the barrier, so we can only spare a small number of personnel to support you as you sweep the area. Those will mostly be snipers.”
“Guess it sucks to be us,” Kai muttered.
I jabbed him with my elbow.
“Hey, at least we won’t die if we get bit again.”
“Will we get sick again?” Lily hugged herself protectively. She had pulled her hair away from her face in a tightly woven braid pinned up and under a snug-fitting helmet with a chin-guard.
All of the wild cards had any excess hair braided, pinned, or otherwise tucked out of harm’s way. We were wearing lightweight but effective sectioned Kevlar armor covering our upper and lower arms, chests, and thighs.
The Kevlar covered sturdy but flexible, fire retardant pants and long-sleeved shirts. Black knee-high, lace-up boots discouraged any pesky shin or ankle biters. Very riot gear chic.
We were armed with our M-4s and had each chosen some sort of hand-to-hand weapon, based on personal preference. Kai, for example, hefted a crowbar. I had a lethally sharp blade somewhere between a katana and a wakizashi. The slanted tip was sharpened enough to slide in and out of flesh with ease. It had what is cheerfully called a ‘blood gutter’ running down its length, which insured that it wouldn’t get trapped by the suction of the muscle tissue and fat.
Icky, but practical.
As soon as Gabriel had noticed my interest in the sword, he’d made me wear its scabbard so I’d be used to its weight. I also carried a shorter blade called a tanto in a crossover sheathe, blade up over the left side of my chest. If I lost my gun and primary blade, I’d have easy access to the tanto.
Thank you, Zombie Combat Manual.
My fellow wild cards carried an assortment of goodies—machetes, axes, and crowbars. Lily had a little pickaxe, the wide edge and point honed to razor sharpness. It hung from the right side of her belt. Between that and her firearm, she looked like a lethal Care Bear.
No fooling ourselves on this one, though. Lily would be fighting. I would be fighting. Fighting for my life, as well as those of my fellow wild cards, the military personnel, and the poor hapless engineers trying to build a wall.
Suddenly I wanted to throw up.
A hand rested on my shoulder.
“You okay?”
I looked up to find Gabriel at my side, looking much healthier than he had earlier. His color was better and the haggard circles under his eyes were gone. Whatever he’d done, it was reassuring to have him back to normal.
“Yeah...” I said. “No. No, I’m not okay. I mean, it’s real. This is really happening. We’re all going out there to fight an enemy that’s trying to eat us and... and we might die.” I gulped.
“I might die.”
I felt like an idiot, but couldn’t stop myself from continuing.
“I might screw up. Someone could die because I screw up.” I started to hyperventilate. Gabriel took hold of my shoulders and looked me in the eye.
“You’re not going to screw up, Ashley.”
I wasn’t buying it.
“How do you know? We’ve only been training for, what? Not enough time to rehearse for a monologue, let alone to prepare for this.” I gestured toward the zombie-infested quad.
“I’ve seen you in action.” He spoke quietly and intensely. “You’re quick, smart, and you think on your feet.” He put a hand under my chin, lifting it so he could look me in the eyes. “And I’ll be out there watching your back. All of your backs. Okay?”
I searched his gaze for any sign of bullshit, but didn’t find a trace.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I couldn’t resist asking. “I eat meat and sugar, remember?”
Gabriel stiffened a bit.
“Guess I’ve learned we’re not always what we eat.”
He let go of my chin, his hand brushing the side of my face so quickly it might have been an accident. His touch made my skin tingle.
Or maybe it was just nerves.
That’s what I told myself as he turned back to the rest of the group, all of whom were eyeballing us curiously.
“Okay, everyone,” he said, all business. “It’s time to do this. We’re going out in two teams, Team A and Team B.”
“How come we have to be Teams A and B?” Tony grumbled. “It’s boring—no style. Can’t we be, like, Team Romero and Team Fulci?”
Kai rolled his eyes.
“Dude, that is so fucking cliché, I can’t believe you even suggested it. It’s like being a Star Wars geek and naming your kid Lucas or Jar-Jar.”
“No one would name their kid Jar-Jar,” Tony countered.
“Whatever, dude,” Kai said. “I rest my case.”
Gabriel cleared his throat, shooting them both a withering glare.
“As I was saying, we’ll divide into two teams and do a sweep of the campus. Team A will move out to the perimeter where the barrier construction will be taking place, moving inward in a clockwise direction while Team B moves counterclockwise slightly inside of the perimeter.”
We stared at him blankly.
Gabriel sighed, and pulled out a campus map.
“Each team moves in ever tightening circles until they arrive back here at Patterson Hall, which is dead center.”
Fitting, I thought, but I kept quiet.
“The idea is to clean out the zombies from the outside in—not exactly normal procedure when securing a perimeter, but we’re stuck with it. Team A will hopefully catch anything Team B misses. As soon as we’ve removed the majority of the threat, the military personnel will bring out the engineers.
“Later we’ll need to do a sweep of each and every building on campus, to check for targets and survivors.”
He folded the map and turned to face us.
“Team A will be led by myself and consist of Ashley, Kai, and Lily,” he said. �
�Team B will be led by Sgt. Gentry here—”
A baby-faced man in fatigues stepped forward, favoring his left leg slightly. The name rang a bell.
“He’s seen plenty of this sort of action overseas.”
Overseas?
“Dolofónoi?” I asked.
Gentry nodded.
“Good old Delta Zeta Nu.” He slapped his right leg. “And a wild card, as of a few days ago.”
Gabriel continued.
“His team will consist of Mack, Tony, and Kaitlyn.”
Tony looked less than thrilled by his teammates, and Kaitlyn shared his enthusiasm. Mack, bless him, smiled at both of them.
“First step is making our way through the zoms currently surrounding DBP Hall.”
Zoms? Cute.
“We have snipers on the roof, and others will move into position on the top of other buildings to help cull the herd. Don’t engage in combat at this point unless absolutely necessary. The point is to make it to your starting positions and begin the sweep inwards. Then you’ll see plenty of action. Understood?”
We all nodded.
Simone stepped in at this point.
“If necessary, use your weapons to enable you to get into your starting positions. If one of your team falls, do your best to rescue them even if they’re bitten. Remember, you’re immune to infection, but not to being ripped to pieces.
“We can’t afford to lose any of you,” she added.
“Aren’t you going with us?” Lily’s voice shook as she stared with huge green eyes.
“No,” Simone said shortly. “The powers-that-be consider my expertise more important than my combat ability.”
“And quite rightly so.” Colonel Paxton stepped forward. “Not only is Professor Fraser tracking the source of this outbreak, she’s working on a cure. Her knowledge is even more invaluable than her wild card status.”
Simone didn’t look happy, but Jamie did. I’m pretty sure Miss Hot Topic would have tackled Simone had she tried to leave the building. And I actually agreed with her.
“What about survivors?” Mack asked. Trust him to think of other people when his own life was on the line.