by Allen Gamboa
“Mama!” Lace peeled away from Lis and grabbed her mother’s leg. Lara knelt down and hugged her youngest daughter.
“It’s going to be fine Lacey.” She hugged her tightly and almost broke down. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Mom?” Lydia, the older sister asked still holding the .38 in her shaking hands.
“What are we going to do?” Lis got to her feet and stepped past her mother and sister. The sounds of automatic weapons still came from outside. There was the loud sound of helicopter blades from above them, then two loud thumps shook the roof of the motor home. All three of them jumped at the noise. “They’re on the roof!”
“Mama!” Lacey screamed as Lydia nervously raised the handgun toward the closed roof hatch.
There was a crashing sound and the roof hatch was violently ripped open. A red-haired woman, in what resembled a black hockey helmet, peered down at them through the open hatchway.
“Y’all okay down there?” The woman yelled down to them.
“Soldiers.” Lacey said smiling at Lis.
“Yes!” The girl’s mother shouted back up at the woman. “We’re okay!”
“How many of you are there?”
“Three.” Lara said solemnly. “There’s three of us.”
“Alright, stand back. I’m going to drop on in!”
“Lace,” Lis smiled at her younger sister. “I told you someone would save us.”
CHAPTER 6: NASTIEST GAME OF TWISTER
“Three o’clock Hale!” Doc shouted as he continued to fire on the advancing deaders. The sergeant turned to his right in time to see a couple of the flesh eaters stumble out from behind the cover of a delivery van. The soldier swung his rifle in their direction and shot both of them in the head. The reanimated undead collapsed on the asphalt like wet bags of cement.
“Thanks Doc! We don't need to get flanked out here.” He said quickly changing out magazines. To the big sergeant, it didn’t seem to matter how many of the undead they put down, more would show up in their place. The mass of deaders were growing closer despite the contractors attempts to thin out the herd of the hungry corpses. The sergeant started to glance around for an escape route in case they had to book it out of there. In a sarcastic tone, Hale pointed a gloved hand at the rapidly growing pile of expended shell casings at their feet. “Remember to police up your brass and mags Doc, Captain Booker is gonna be pissed if we don’t bring some back.”
“Fuck Captain Booker, let him come get his own brass.”
“Shit, there’s more piling out of that Walmart!” Hale looked up over his sights to see a least two dozen more of the dead stumble out of the big chain store.
“I really gotta stop letting you talk me into this crap.”
“What’s wrong Doc, I thought you lived for this shit?”
“Yeah, but now I’m bored!” The medic continued to fire at the moving undead. “And you’re going to make me run! Did I tell you how much I hate running?”
Doc shot one of the dead in the throat causing it to fall backwards onto the ground and inadvertently tripping up three other deaders. The bumbling corpses caused a chain reaction of at least two dozen of the flesh eaters tripping over each other and falling.
“What the fuck?” Doc dropped his rifle to a combat position as he watched the domino effect of the uncoordinated deaders roll through the ravenous crowd.
“No one will believe this shit.” The sergeant held his M4 close against his big chest and watched deader after deader trip over each other and crash to the ground. The parking lot was beginning to look like the world’s nastiest game of twister.
“Wish I had a damn camera!” Doc glanced around them to make sure no meat sacks were sneaking up on them, the crowd in front of the soldiers had stopped advancing for the moment. “I know the Major would get a kick out of it.”
“I bet. He’ll be pissed he missed this.” Hale raised his rifle back to point shoulder.
“Sarge, meat sacks are still coming!” Doc said as he fired off a couple rounds.
“I think it’s time for us to pull one of them tactical relocations I’ve always heard about.”
Hale, while they had a fast break in the advancing mass of undead, quickly wiped some sweat off his scarred face.
“Roger that Sarge.” Doc said taking a step backwards.
“This is Golf One,” The chopper pilot’s voice crackled in the sergeant’s headset. “We are clear.”
“This is Golf Three,” Hale said into his mic. “and we are ready to go!”
“Headed your way Golf Three.”
“Aw crap Sarge.” Doc grumbled. “We have an assload of incoming deaders to the left!”
“Assload? What the hell are you putting up your ass Doc?” Hale glanced over his shoulder to see at least twenty fast moving undead emerging out of a 7-Eleven and heading right for them. He spun and fired into the hungry group. The reanimated corpses, hit in the legs, stumbled to the ground face first then started to quickly crawl in their direction.
“Son of a fuck!” Doc swallowed as he watched the flesh eaters creepily pull themselves along the asphalt in search of a hot meal. The medic cleared his dry throat and shot the two crawlers in the head. “Sarge, where’s that damn chopper?”
“In route Doc,” The sergeant changed out another magazine. “don’t worry your pretty little head!”
“It’s not just my head I’m worried about!”
The main mass of deaders were now starting to get to their feet and fumble in the two men’s direction.
“We have company Sarge!” The medic shouted.
“Come on Doc!” Hale tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to where a tractor trailer set parked a few yards away.
The soldiers made a sprint for the truck as the dead trailed behind them. The sergeant made it to the cab of the truck and pulled the door open. A bloated deader in a red flannel shirt, growled at the soldier and wildly flailed at him from inside. Hale reached in with his free hand and grabbed the flesh eater by the hair, dragging him kicking and flailing out of the cab. Hale slammed the reanimated corpse headfirst to the pavement. Before the deader could get to its feet, Doc stuck his rifle barrel against the back of the cannibals damaged head and squeezed the trigger.
“Quit fucking around Doc!” Hale shouted as he climbed onto the aluminum runner on the side of the diesel truck cab. Hale slung his rifle over his shoulder and pulled himself up onto the roof of the big semi-truck.
“Crap!” Doc cursed as he glanced around. The hungry dead were rapidly advancing. He tossed his M4 up to the sergeant then scrambled up the side of the truck’s cab. The sergeant bent down and thrust a hand out to the medic. Doc grabbed it firmly and Hale pulled him up onto the roof as the hungry undead smashed heavily into the side of the tractor trailer.
“Cutting it close there Doc. Maybe YOU should give up smoking.”
“No shit!” The medic rolled to his feet and glanced down at the mass of rotting undead that now surrounded the trailer. The loud sound of helicopter rotors filled the air as the aircraft hovered overhead. Two of the heavy fast ropes dropped down a few inches from the roof of the truck. The two soldiers grabbed ahold of the ropes and were quickly pulled up into the fuselage of the chopper.
“About time.” Hale said, out of breath, as Speedy and the red headed soldier helped him into the helicopter.
“Yeah, well, you know how us ladies are always fashionably late, ya dick. Thought you guys were going to be deader chow.” The female chuckled as she moved back to her seat.
“Some fucking cakewalk Sarge. I need a fucking smoke.” Doc grumbled as Duley yanked him into the aircraft. The medic noticed the three wide eyed girls and their mother staring up at him from their net seats.
“Oh shit! Sorry.” Doc frowned embarrassed.
“Got them all?” Hale asked as he sat down heavily in a net seat next to the girls.
“Well, not all of them.” The redhead said quietly.
“Oh.” The sergeant leaned forwa
rd in his seat and removed his helmet revealing a battle-scarred face.
“Good job sergeant.” Lieutenant Uribe said as he leaned forward in his seat. “We’ll drop them off at the FEMA station.”
“Roger that sir.” Hale glanced over at the teenage girl that was sitting next to him. He pulled his sunglasses off and wiped his eyes with a gloved hand. “You’re safe now.The FEMA station is pretty secure.”
“We can’t go with you?” Lis asked.
“No, you wouldn’t like where we’re headed, but there’s plenty of soldiers at the FEMA station. We’re security contractors. We work for Strategic Securities.”
“You’re not soldiers?”
“Well, it’s complicated. I used to be Air Force. What’s your name?” He asked.
“Lis.”
“Lis.” He extended a gloved hand. Lis shook it with a firm grip that impressed the old sergeant. “I’m sergeant Hale. That’s a good grip you got there.” He smiled.
“Our father was a marine. He taught us how to give a good handshake.”
“Good man.”
“The best.” Lis said sadly.
“Lis, you’ll be safe. The FEMA station is very well guarded are we are just down the road at Camp Fedex.”
“The FEMA camp is a good place.” Sergeant Veronica ‘Ronnie’ Cross said removing her helmet and exposing her long red hair. “It’s not like some of the other camps.”
“Good food too.” Sergeant Duley Johnson said as he shoved the fast ropes into a black bag. “At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
“We’ll be there pretty soon.” Rollie Hale ran a hand across his tired, scarred and unshaven face. Today had been a good day. They hadn't lost any of the team and they had been able to save people. The big sergeant closed his eyes and tried to grab a little much needed shut eye. As the chopper rocked back and forth, Hale prayed his sleep wouldn’t be haunted by the ever-present images of his dead wife and unborn child.
The nervous teenager smiled at the big sergeant and tried to get comfortable in the lousy net seating. Today had been one of the worst days of her young life. Losing her father and then being saved by this group of soldiers was almost too much to take in. Lis wiped some tears from her eyes and glanced over at Sergeant Cross, who was doing some kind of weapons check on her rifle. The girl thought that Cross looked badass, strong and confident. In that moment, Lis Brook’s knew that she was going to be a soldier.
CHAPTER 7: GOOD HELP IS HARD TO FIND
CDC Underground Research Facility
“Nice shot Ali.” Franc DuPont said as he nudged the body of the dead soldier with his foot. “You got them both before they could even take a breath.”
“It was easy, guy.” The Armenian mercenary, Egeo Martone knelt beside the other soldier and started to rifle through the pockets of the dead man’s uniform. Martone had thinning greasy black hair that was pulled into a tight pony tail. “I know you French are better at dropping your weapons then firing them…”
“Big talk from a man who fucks his own sisters.” DuPont spat.
“It was just the one sister, guy.” Martone held up a keycard he’d found in the soldier’s fatigue pocket. He wore fingerless gloves that exposed a gaudy ring on every finger. “Don’t knock it ‘till you tried it.”
“DuPont is more likely to fuck his own brother first.” Gunther Baasch said as he retrieved the card from Martone. The German then stepped over the dead men that lay sprawled in front of a set of locked double doors. “Okane?”
“Clear.” The Japanese mercenary nodded curtly as he watched the long corridor behind them. Baasch looked over at the fifth man clad in black fatigues and pointed down at the bodies.
“Digger, move these.”
“Right.” The big Australian grabbed both the soldiers by the ankles and swiftly drug them away from the doors. Digger was the newest member of the mercenary team so he was also the recipient of all the shit work. The Aussie sported a big brown pompadour that he constantly combed. “No time for some fun?”
“Remember, no shooting.” Baasch stared directly at Digger as he rubbed the card in his gloved hands. “At least not yet.” The others nodded as Martone and DuPont stacked up on the left door while Baasch and Digger took the right. The German drew his silenced 9-millimeter pistol and swiped the card through a reader on the wall. There was a faint click and Baasch quickly gave Martone a nod. The four men pushed their way through the unlocked doors and into the laboratory, guns trained on its occupants.
“Hands up! Don’t move!” Baasch shouted to the seven men and women that had been busy working inside. There were a few screams and the sound of a dropped glass beaker as the people inside were startled by the sudden intrusion of the pistol wielding men.
“Shut up!” Martone shouted at the scientist. He grabbed one of the females that was standing close to the doors and shoved her into the middle of the room. “Do not move!”
“Everyone!” Baasch dropping his pistol to his side and waving his free hand at them. “In the middle of the room. Now!”
“Listen..” One of the lab coated men stepped forward with his hands raised above his head. “We..”
Digger fired a round from the silenced pistol and the man flew backwards crashing into a beaker filled table. The glass containers smashed onto the tile floor spilling their contents all over the dead lab tech. The others screamed or let out surprised gasps. Baasch turned his head to Digger and growled.
“I hope that wasn’t Doctor Carrick.”
“Have to keep ‘em in line boss. Besides he talked too much.” Digger shrugged.
“You talk too much Guy.” Martone said annoyed at his team member. “You are more irritating than a bag of dicks.”
“What?” Digger gave the Armenian a perplexed look.
“If you are wrong your Aussie behind is mine.” Baasch said, venom deep in his voice.
Digger just chuckled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. The German turned his attention back to the frightened crowd.
“Now, which one of you is Doctor Carrick?” Baasch politely said to the group as he held the hand gun on them. “If I don’t get an answer I will have my man here search each and every one of you for your ID.” He nodded toward Digger. “He relishes his job and it won’t be pleasant for you. So, do we have a Doctor Carrick here?” There were nervous whispers from the lab workers and none of them would meet the mercenaries hardened gaze. Digger, on the other hand, was starting to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet in lewd anticipation of getting his hands on the females in the terrorized group. Finally, to the Aussies’ dismay, a thin, bearded man reluctantly stepped forward.
“I’m Doctor Carrick.” He said nervously. “How can I help you men?”
“You are working on ZR-12?” Baasch moved in close to the scientist and grabbed up the ID hanging from his jacket. “Right Doctor Carrick?” He said studying the photo on the laminated card.
“This is a military research facili…”
“Doctor Carrick.” Baasch flung his ID in the direction of the dead lab tech. “We know all about the ZR-12 project. The authorization code is…” He looked over at Martone for help.
“It’s Delta, Delta, Golf, Kilo, Zulu twelve.” The mercenary said from memory. “DDGKZ12, if that’s easier for you to follow guy.” Martone smirked at the scientist.
“Thank you Martone. The man has a memory like a steel trap. Now,” He reached a gloved hand over to Carrick and grabbed him roughly by the coat lapel and shoved the pistols’ silenced barrel under his neck. “No more games Doctor. Do you have the authorization code, yes or no, to the ZR-12 project? If you lie, this will be it for you.”
“Y-yes.” Carrick quickly nodded.
“Very good.” He patted him on the cheek. “Now where is the anti-virus?”
“We just shipped off a finished lot.” Carrick swallowed. “The Rangers came and picked up all the vials of ZR-12.”
“Do you have a location?”
�
�Uh..” Carrick looked from side to side at his colleagues. Baasch shoved the silencer deeper into his neck. The scientist swallowed and nodded. “They have another research area in Nevada. Some kind of big process lab.”
“Does the ZR-12 work?” Baasch asked.
“Yes.” The scientist said quietly. “Yes, it does.”
“Very good. Now I need the GPS coordinates of this process lab and all your research and your team.” The German glanced around at the frightened crowd. “The sooner you get all the ZR-12 data the sooner we can leave.” Carrick quickly bobbed his head up and down.
Do you need all these people?”
“Yes I do.”
“Then they all come with us.” He looked over at Digger, who was chomping at the bit to get within reach of one of the three females. “Keep your fucking paws off them until we figure out what they're worth.”
“Believe me boss.” Digger grinned hungrily. “I know they’re worth.”
“Hands off until the big man says so. Where is the ZR-12 now?” Baasch waved his pistol at the group.
“Baker Air Base.” Carrick quickly offered up. “They’re flying it out on a military transport tonight.”
“Get your arses moving. We don’t want to piss off Mister Black any more than he already is.” Baasch turned to Digger and got up in his face. “Like I said, keep your bloody mitts off the women until the boss has had a look see, got it?”
“Yeah, yeah.” The Australian moved back a step. “I got it Baasch. I got it.”
“Better yet, get your ass over to the exit point and make sure we’re still clear.” Digger rolled his eyes and headed out the open doors. “Martone, you go with him.”
“Alright guy.” The Armenian nodded and followed Digger out.
“Okane, DuPont, Cuff these people.”
“Copy that.” Okane said as he pulled a sleeve of flex ties out of his pack and stepped into the crowd of lab techs. Baasch stepped out into the hallway and removed the satphone from his tac vest. Suddenly the German mercenary found himself violently thrown across the corridor as Doctor Carrick triggered the laboratory’s self-destruct system.