Up From the Depths: Book 4 Movement to Contact

by J. R. Jackson

  Full magazines filled all the pouches and the Kimber .45 he had picked up at Stone’s Salvage Yard so long ago rode in a drop down holster on his right thigh. Stone closed the rear door of the SUV then walked to the driver’s side where he picked up his M4 that was lying across the front seats. He pulled out the magazine and visually inspected the rounds inside, tapped the mag against his thigh then slapped it back into place, chambering a round, setting the safety then slinging it over his shoulder to hang across his chest.

  He drew his Glock 19 from the thigh holster, ejected the magazine then slid it back into place yanking the slide back to chamber a round then holstered the Austrian handgun. He looked towards the main entrance of Safeguard as the rest of the inhabitants exited. Mecceloni and his woman, Cassie, walked a little ways away from the rest, heavily armed, both of them with bulging tactical vests, Cassie with a drop down ammunition carrier on her left thigh full of extra 5.7mm mags for the P90 she carried while on the opposite leg was a drop down holster for her P45C. She had a Multicam OCP ball cap with her long, red hair in a pony tail and trailing through the back of the cap while bronze tinted sunglasses protected her eyes from the sun. Mecceloni had his usual M4 but had added grenades to his vest. Tinted sunglasses covered his eyes. Further casting his rugged features in shadow was the tan boonie style hat he wore. Sharon and Woody walked and held hands, both of them had MP5s strapped to their chests and vests bulging with loaded ammunition pouches. Woody had his Colt Python in a shoulder rig and a Colt Government Model MKIV .45 on his waist in a Safariland tactical holster instead of the SIG he had last time. Stone made a note to ask Woody about his personal weapons when they got back. The two newest occupants, Burnett and Drewett, carried M4s, OD green tactical vests with extra ammunition and medical bags. They would be acting as medical support during the recovery operation.

  “All right everyone. Lets load up and get out of here,” Stone directed once they had entered the Quonset hut that served as a garage.

  “Why do I have to ride bitch?” Durst asked looking at Stone and Mecceloni.

  “Because I have to drive and John is ambidextrous and can shoot with either hand. You can’t,” Stone explained.

  With a little grumbling about space, everyone squeezed into the Tahoe and left the fenced compound. The drive to the main road was quiet. No one spoke as they were all lost in their personal thoughts of the upcoming excursion. Stone stopped the truck at the intersection of the Safeguard access road and the highway. Mecceloni opened the map and laid it across Durst’s lap so that both he and Stone could read it.

  “Just past this mile marker, we go overland to here,” he said pointing to the mesa they had decided to use as a rendezvous point.

  “That’s coming up real quick,” Stone stated as he read the number on the mile marker a short distance away. He turned onto the highway and accelerated towards Clovis.

  “This is it,” Mecceloni said pointing to the right side of road. Stone slowed then eased the SUV off the road and into the scrub and desert. Weaving around small rock formations and cacti, he maneuvered across the arid terrain.

  Several times they bounced through a wash hard enough to lift everyone out of their seats. Finally stopping behind the mesa, Stone looked around as he waited for the dust to settle then rolled down the windows front and back before shutting off the engine. They stiffly climbed out of the truck amid a few grunts and groans and not a few bruises.

  Stone popped the hood and checked the engine. He wanted to make sure that the rough trip hadn’t damaged anything. Looking underneath, half expecting to see leaking fluid, there was no evidence of damage, he was grateful for the heavy duty skid plate installed by whoever St. John had bought the vehicle from. Mecceloni had climbed to just below the shallow crest of the mesa and was studying Clovis through a set of small binoculars.

  “The gates are still open,” he reported. “No sign of the semi trailers and no tents.”

  “Let me see,” Durst insisted reaching for the binoculars. Mecceloni handed the optics to the other man then brought his rifle up to use the EO Tech scope. Durst slowly panned the area around the front gates to Clovis. The large pavilion tent, the Red Cross aid tent and all the smaller tents were gone.

  “He’s right, the tents are all gone,” Durst called back to the rest of the group. Cassie, who was on the other side of Mecceloni, rolled her eyes then returned to sweeping her area.

  “Shit,” Stone muttered slamming the hood shut on the Tahoe. “Is there any sign that they moved inside or just left?” he asked.

  “Can’t tell from here,” Mecceloni said.

  “Do you see any infected?” Sharon asked.

  “Don’t see any of those either,” Mecceloni replied.

  “Looks like we’re going to have to go over there and take a look,” Stone commented. “Woody, you and the girls are staying here.”

  “Wait a minute there, buddy,” Sharon said. “I’m going with you guys.”

  “So am I,” Cassie said defiantly.

  Stone looked at both women, knowing that arguing with them would be an exercise in futility.

  “OK, does anyone else want to come along?” he asked looking towards Woody, Drewett and Burnett.

  “I’m more than happy to stay here,” Woody said. Drewett and Burnett agreed.

  “Then it’s settled, the five of us go in and get our trucks back,” Stone stated.

  Mecceloni led off, his rifle at low ready, head up and eyes moving and alert behind his sunglasses, Stone followed with Durst then Sharon and finally Cassie.

  The group made use of any concealment available as they approached the main gates to the walled city of Clovis. They had made a looping movement and ended at the east corner of the wall. Mecceloni squatted down and leaned out to look at the gates and get a better view of where all the tents had been.

  “Looks clear,” he said, eyes moving behind his tinted lenses.

  He stepped out and crouched walked towards the gate, rifle up and ready. Stone hurried after him followed by the rest of their party. Mecceloni stopped and went to one knee, using his rifle scope to look at the area where the pavilion tent had been. There was nothing there but trampled earth and tire marks. The wind shifted and a fetid stench assaulted their noses forcing them to gag.

  “Jesus, what’s that smell?” Durst asked quietly, trying hard not to vomit.

  “Over there,” Stone indicated using his rifle barrel to point with. Along the far side of the road, in the drainage ditches, corpses, body parts and other unrecognizable biological material was heaped into the depressions normally reserved for water run-off.

  Sharon gagged when the stench hit her then turned and vomited up her breakfast. Cassie handed her a canteen to wash out her mouth. Durst’s sister nodded her thanks then tried to breath out of her mouth so the stench wouldn’t make her gag again. Mecceloni leaned out, brought his rifle up and used the scope to search for any infected close to the open interior gates.

  “What’s the hold up?” Cassie asked nervously, having moved up behind him. Mecceloni didn’t reply but kept sweeping for infected. He lowered his rifle and continued to look around.

  “Hey, Big Guy,” Cassie said nudging him with an elbow. “Why aren’t we moving inside?” she asked trying to look over his shoulder and watch the surrounding area for infected.

  “Ladies first,” Mecceloni said leaning against the exterior wall and motioning her forward around with a sweep of his arm. She looked at him and raised her middle finger before bringing up her P90 and moving crouched over like Mecceloni had taught her, to the open gates and inside the wall. Mecceloni couldn’t help but notice how her pony tail swayed across her back as the material of her pants highlighted the movement of her buttocks. He shook his head and brought his thoughts back to the present.

  The interior gates to the city proper were open as were the gates to the market parking area. Parked next to the van with the faded ‘Star Wars’ logo was the CUCV, covered in a fine coat of dust but appar
ently undamaged.

  “I’ll be damned,” Stone muttered when he saw his vehicle still parked where he had left it.

  It appeared as if none of the other vehicles had been touched with exception to the Safeguard Tahoe which was missing from the space next to the CUCV.

  “We knew one was still here,” Mecceloni said quietly. “Everybody stay sharp, we don’t know what we’ll find the further we move inside.”

  Mecceloni moved to the market parking area gate then stopped and looked up at the watch tower. When they had left the market, one of the Reverend’s followers had been up there manning the machine gun and firing into the crowd. Now, there was no one up there, no mounted weapon and no bodies. There were no bodies on the streets either. Mecceloni hesitated when he realized what was missing. He quickly glanced back at the drainage ditch and its gore filled contents.

  If those were the bodies from the market and the city, who had put them there and for what purpose?

  He studied the trench and its ghastly contents.

  There weren’t enough bodies to equal the population of Clovis.

  Stone stepped past him and jogged to the security booth. Durst followed him and the two men took up positions that covered the entrance to the market and the main entrance to the city. Cassie silently flowed around a stack of empty, wooden crates and joined Mecceloni at his location.

  “Cassie, you and Sharon head for the truck,” Mecceloni directed. “I’ll cover you from here.”

  The two women, Cassie in the lead, moved crouched over towards the parked vehicles. They reached the tan, surplus CUCV and stopped. Cassie checked the vehicles around it, looking under and behind for any infected and found none. She rose up just enough to look in the back window of the desert tan painted surplus vehicle. There was nothing inside that shouldn’t be. She was surprised to see the boxes of ammunition and spare parts still inside the cargo area and the black shape of Stone’s Benelli on the dash.

  Mecceloni jogged over then crouched down next to Cassie.

  “It looks clear inside,” Cassie reported. Mecceloni nodded.

  “OK, you and Sharon get inside and wait for us to come back with the other one,” he stated.

  Cassie nodded then motioned to Sharon pantomiming getting inside. The two women crouch walked to the front doors and climbed inside, closing the doors quietly. Mecceloni jogged over to where Durst and Stone waited and watched the empty streets.

  “It’s up to the next intersection then right two blocks,” Mecceloni said. Stone nodded then slowly slid around the corner of the booth to the open door, weapon up and ready. Surveying the interior through the sights of his rifle all he saw was an overturned stool and a faded stain on the floor.

  It was empty.

  They knew that there should have been a city police officer’s body inside or at least the remains of one. They looked at each other then at the interior of the booth. There was nothing inside but the dark stain on the floor that may or may not have been dried blood. It could have been spilled coffee but they knew differently. The three men darted through the open interior gates and ran to a doorway. Stone was sweating profusely and not just from the heat. He moved along the street, keeping close to the buildings, pausing only long enough to check the open doorways and alleys before moving on. The city was devoid of noise save the rustle of debris that skittered across the sun baked asphalt. Tiny dust devils formed on the street then dissipated. The most disturbing part was the lack of bodies in the streets. With the number of attendees at the market, there should have been bodies or at least parts of bodies, littering the streets and sidewalks.

  They reached the intersection they were looking for then turned right, using the same method of hugging the buildings and moving slowly. Stone paused at the end of the first block and tried to see if the other truck was visible. It must be parked just around the corner and out of sight or they would have seen it already.

  “This is taking too long,” Durst muttered from the rear of the formation.

  He was getting jittery from the lack of noise. Stone wiped his brow with the back of his hand then moved to the mouth of an alley and peered inside. Dumpsters and garbage piles were the only items in view. He moved quickly to the other side of the opening, stepping over a long 2X6 board that was lying across the entrance, one end resting on the curb.

  He straightened up, leaned against a doorframe, wiped his brow again then partially straddled the long board as he swept the street for sign of the infected.

  Durst moved across the opening to the alley stepping directly on the board. A loud bang erupted amid wood splinters exploding into the air.

  “Goddamn it! Motherfucker!” Stone exclaimed, dropping to the ground clutching his thigh.

  Blood was flowing from between his fingers and from a furrow that creased the right side of his face from jawbone to hairline. Mecceloni grabbed the back of Stone’s vest and dragged him into the alley while Durst stood there in shock looking at the end of the now shattered board and the blood trail to where his friend had been dragged. He stepped into the alley as Mecceloni examined the wound.

  “Looks like a bullet wound. Someone set up a little surprise,” he said as he looked at the shattered board.

  “What?” Durst asked confused.

  “Improvised anti-personnel device,” Mecceloni explained. “Someone steps on the shell and that forces a nail to hit the primer and bang.” If an infected stepped on it there was a good chance that it would have been killed or disabled. He quickly glanced around the area. If there was one trap, there would be others. As noise seemed to draw the infected, it stood to reason that there would be other traps that would kill or incapacitate infected as they came to investigate.

  Durst stood there numb as Mecceloni quickly sliced Stone’s pants and bandaged his thigh, the blood already soaking the gauze. He gripped Stone’s head in both hands and turned it so he could examine the bloody line on Stone’s face.

  “Good thing he wasn’t standing directly over it,” Mecceloni stated. “The head wound looks superficial, bloody but not serious. More like a surface abrasion,” he commented realizing just how lucky Stone had been. “John, can you open your mouth? Does it hurt to move your jaw?” he asked the other man. Stone worked his mouth with no pain.

  “No, I’m good there,” Stone said. “But my ears are ringing.”

  “His leg, well it looks like it might have missed anything important. Hit the meat and passed clean through missing the bone. Good thing it was small caliber, probably a pistol round. Rifle round would have taken his leg off. Can’t tell from all this blood. It’s messy but, I don’t think it hit an artery or he’d be painting the walls.”

  He left out that if it had been a compound fracture, it would have been a whole lot worse or the fact that if he had been just a few inches more over the improvised device, the bullet, even a small caliber pistol round, would have shattered his femur and entered under his chin, taking the top of his head off.

  “The truck’s got to be just around the corner,” Mecceloni said looking up from tightening the bandage on the thigh wound. Stone was gasping, moaning and muttering curses.

  “Here, add some more bandages to the wound when those get saturated,” Mecceloni said handing Durst a thick bundle of gauze as he moved to the end of the alley and looked out.

  Infected appeared, coming out the buildings and doorways they had passed by. They were still mingling around on the street, sniffing the air. It wouldn’t be long before they found what had roused them. Mecceloni pulled back and patted his chest pouches, counting magazines then leaned back out and fired single shots into the infected that were coming towards the alley entrance. They were starting to bunch up and move like a herd in their direction as they caught the scent of fresh blood. Mecceloni leaned out and fired off the rest of his magazine into the approaching pack.

  “There’s a lot of blood!” Durst yelled as he slapped another thick gauze pad over the wound on Stone’s thigh. At least the blood wasn’t sp
urting out like a fire hose that would mean that the femoral artery had been nicked. Mecceloni inserted another magazine into his M4, dropping the empty one into the dump pouch at his waist before tossing Durst a packet of Quick Clot gauze

  “Wrap this around the wound site, it should seal or slow the flow,” he said before leaning out of the alley and firing a short burst into the advancing horde of infected. Durst tore open the small packet, then began wrapping it over the already saturated gauze. Stone grimaced as the powder, impregnated into the gauze, dissolved and started coagulating the blood.

  “Sonovabitch that hurts!” Stone exclaimed, the pain waking him up from the initial shock of the injury. “Do I still have my balls? Jesus fucking Christ, tell me I still I have my balls!”

  “You still have your balls. They’re too small to have been hit,” Durst said as he tied the end of the bandage around Stone’s thigh.

  Stone reached down and felt his crotch then sighed in relief.

  “Fuck you and Thank God.”

  “Told ya,” Durst said.

  “I’m fucked up. I can’t walk. I can’t run. Leave me here. You can come back for me once you get the truck,” Stone said through gritted teeth, as he tried to sit up. “Just leave me with my rifle. I’m good.”

  “Like hell I will. You don’t get to play hero,” Durst said defiantly as he packed more gauze over the wound then tightly wrapped it. “Not this time, no way buddy. You’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”

  Mecceloni leaned back into the alley and reloaded. He looked at Durst who was trying to stem the flow of blood then removed a M67 Fragmentation grenade from his vest. He pulled the pin, let the lever fly, counted to three then tossed it around the corner. The resulting detonation sent body parts and debris sailing past the alley entrance. Mecceloni had turned away from the blast and waved one hand to clear the dust, dirt and smoke that had been blown up into the air.