Apex Predator

by Glyn Gardner

  “Hold up a sec,” SSgt Brown whispered to the young trooper. Jackson froze.

  “Ok guys,” SSgt Brown started. “If we’re going to be clearing buildings, we need to make sure we’re all on the same sheet of music. We stack up at the door, one behind the other. Jackson opens, and goes in along the wall to the right. I’ll follow him and move along the wall to the left. Mike, you follow me and go right up the middle. Next, Jen you go right between Mike and Jackson, and Theresa you go left between me and Mike.”

  He looked at the injured crew chief. “You stay here until we clear the first room. Then come in and lock the door.” The injured crew chief nodded in agreement. The five lined up in the order SSgt Brown had instructed them. When he was satisfied they were ready, he gave Jackson the nod.

  Jackson threw the door open, and entered the room, sweeping from left to right as he entered. The room was large, stretching from the door to the plate glass windows of the front of the office. There were several bodies on the floor in pools of dried blood. He continued on to the wall, calling out “clear” as he did. The others mimicked him as they cleared their own sectors.

  The room clear, they regrouped in the center of the office. SSgt Brown pulled up a chair at one of the desks, and picked up the phone. It was dead. Well, he thought it was only a matter of time before the phones went dead. He wiggled the mouse on the computer in front of him. The screen glowed as the computer woke itself up.

  He found the icon he wanted. Hovering over the blue “e,” he double clicked. The courser turned from a finger to an hourglass. An empty window appeared. The hourglass continued to flip over and over. No network either, he thought. Well, they were truly on their own.

  BANG! SSgt Brown turned at the sound of the shooting. The crew chief was standing over one of the bodies, M9 9mm pistol in hand with a small wisp of smoke rising from the muzzle.

  “Knock that shit off,” he barked.

  “They may not be dead,” replied the young aviation troop. “Just making sure they are.”

  “How many rounds you got for that thing?”

  “30 rounds,” he replied.

  “Look, that thing makes a lot of noise, and attracts a lot of attention. Ammo is going to eventually be a problem. Don’t draw attention, and don’t waste ammo. If you wanna make sure they’re dead use something else.” The big cavalry NCO yanked the computer keyboard from the desk he had just vacated. “Here, beat their little brains in with this if it’ll make you feel better.”

  He turned to Jackson. “Look around and see if there is something useful in here.” He looked at the rest of the group. “We liberate anything useful and then we leave. This place sucks,” he said as he pointed at the big plate glass window that fronted the office. The others joined in the search for supplies.

  Jackson held up a red gym bag that was sitting under one of the desks. He emptied the contents onto the desk. He shoved a pair of socks and a sports drink inside. He then tossed in a few pens and pencils into the bag. Walking to the printer, he opened the paper drawer and tossed a handful of paper into the bag.

  Mike found a multi-tool and some AA batteries. Jen found a flashlight and a first aid kit. Theresa hit what would later be called the mother-load. Apparently one of the former occupants of the office had a bit of a sweet tooth. She found four bags of chewy candies, a couple of boxes of granola bars, and a bag of peppermints. They tossed their booty in the red gym bag.

  “How’s your arm doing,” Jen asked the crew chief.

  “Ok ma’am.”

  “Good. My name is Jen, and this is Mike, Theresa, SSgt Brown, and Jackson.”

  “I’m Specialist Wilcox,” he held out his right hand. Mike and Jen quickly shook hands with the newest member of the group.

  “Welcome aboard Wilcox,” SSgt Brown said. “Time to move,” he stated as he motioned his M-4 towards the large window. Theresa held back a scream as she looked out the window. The parking lot was quickly being overrun by zombies. The first of them was just reaching the window. Bam! Bam! Bam, as their fists pounded on the large pane of glass. They could all see the window shake with each impact.

  Jackson threw open the back door and came face to face with his worst nightmare. Standing before this young black trooper from the south; was the largest, baldest, and deadest white dude he had ever seen. It reached out for him with its massive ham-hock-like hands. Jackson tried to back up, but bumped into Mike, knocking both to the ground, losing his rifle as he fell. Stuck in the door, Jackson couldn’t roll or back up. Panicked, he kicked the dead skinhead in the stomach, knocking it back a step.

  BANG! Click, Click. The monster’s bald head exploded from the shotgun blast fired at point-blank. Jackson couldn’t move. Theresa stepped over him, shotgun at the ready. She did a quick scan of the immediate area. The danger over, she turned and held a hand out to Jackson. The young trooper took her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

  He turned immediately and bent to retrieve his rifle. He was sure she saw the tears in his eyes. He had to keep moving. He meekly croaked out a “thank you,” avoiding eye contact. He started walking, sniffling back the tears and hoping the young girl hadn’t seen how terrified he was. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself staring into her eyes.

  “Why don’t you let me lead for a little bit?” Theresa asked. The trooper didn’t know what to say. He was supposed to be the Cavalry, rescuing the settlers from the mean old Indians. Now this teen aged girl had saved him, and was going to take his place in the most dangerous place in their little world.

  “It’s ok. We’re all soldiers now, Jackson. You take a break for a little bit.” She began moving east along the back of the building. Just as Theresa reached the corner of the building she heard the crash of the big window shattering. She peered around the corner. She could see several monsters in the parking lot. They were all shuffling in the direction of recently broken window, eyes straight ahead and heads not moving.

  She turned to SSgt Brown and waived him up. The big NCO silently followed her direction. “Look,” she whispered. “They’re focused on the sound of the glass shattering. These things really are kinda dumb aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” he whispered back. “They don’t seem to think much. Almost like a plant growing towards the light. They just move in the direction of any noise. Good pick-up young lady.” She waited until last zombie passed out of site. Turning back to the group, she waved her hand forward indication “follow me.” They ran behind another building, this one, a two story with windows all around. As they neared it, they could see movement inside.

  “Hold up,” whispered Jackson. Theresa stopped and crouched. The rest of the group followed suit. “Look in that window,” Jackson pointed to a corner window close to them. Theresa could see several zombies staring at the small band of survivors, banging fists against the window. “Let me take the lead back,” he ordered. “I know how to get around that.” He turned to the rest of the group. “That building is infected. Stay with me and don’t stop.”

  He started running across the open field, veering to the south of the building by as far as he dared. He split the distance between it and the back of the motel. Around the building, they came to a sparsely wooded area that butted up against highway 80. He held them up again. This time he conferred with SSgt Brown. “Woods or road,” he asked.

  SSgt Brown thought for a moment. If they stay on the road, they would be in the open and easily spotted, but they could be quiet and might find some transportation. If they went into the woods, they would be harder to spot, but they wouldn’t be able to be as quiet and they risked close contact.

  “Take the road,” he ordered. “But, keep to the edge. If we need to get cover quick, I want to be close to the woods.”

  “Roger.” The trooper veered back to the north to the road. He kept the group moving on the shoulder. They traveled another 1000 meters before Jackson froze, holding up his left fist next to his left ear, as he crouched to the ground. The r
est of the group froze and then crouched, following his lead.

  They could hear it before they could see it. It sounded like everything in front of them was moaning. There was s large apartment complex about 200 meters ahead and off the road by about 100 meters. They could see movement, zombies shuffling around the buildings and aimlessly walking in the field in front of them. Jackson duck walked back to SSgt Brown.

  “You want to try and cross to the other side of the road? We could maybe skirt around these guys and keep going,” advised the young trooper.

  “Na, we get spotted, and we’re screwed,” he answered. “Mike, where do you think we should go? It looks like we’re not going east.”

  “Things are pretty sparsely populated north of 220,” he replied. “We go north from here, we may have to pass through a neighborhood but we may be able to miss it. Eighty’s gonna be like this for the next 5 or 6 miles. Maybe we hit the interstate up there and find a working car or something.”

  “Well, I don’t have anything better,” replied SSgt Brown. “Back track a hundred meters or so and we’ll cross the road. Follow me ya’ll.” With that, he turned and headed back the way they had come. When he was satisfied that he was out of site of both the apartment and the office park, he led the group across the highway.

  They continued across an open field for about a mile before they ran into the back of the neighborhood Mike had warned them about. SSgt Brown crouched behind a big wooden privacy fence, looking at his watch. The others joined him.

  “Ok, we got about 4 hours of light left. Do we keep going to 220, or do we find a good place to hole up for the night? I say if it looks safe, we hole up for the evening.”

  “I agree,” Mike replied. “I don’t want to be wandering around in the dark.”

  “Do you think anything will be safe around here?” Jen wasn’t convinced.

  “Find a nice deep hole,” added Jackson. “Get some rest,” Theresa chimed in. “Get some cover,” SPC Wilcox said.

  “Alright, we cross this neighborhood. But, we find something that looks promising; we dig in and move out in the morning.” He led them around the fence. They moved slow, heads constantly turning from right to left. Jackson couldn’t help but realize he was tail end Charlie. Damn!

  They crossed the first street without incident. SSgt Brown noticed several houses with either doors opened, or windows broken. Many of the homes still had cars in the driveway. All of the houses were ranch style with car ports. There were blood stains in several places on the ground. Well, he thought, at least we know that Zed is around here somewhere.

  As they rounded the corner of a house on the second street, SSgt Brown froze. On the street in front of him were several zombies kneeling over something, feeding on it. SSgt Brown looked up and down the street. There didn’t seem to be any others around. The yard he was in was not fenced, but the ones next to it were. He had seen a back door on the house they were crouched beside.

  He turned to the group and waved his hand motioning them to back up. Jackson led then around the house where they regrouped. “Ok, guys, we either check in here for the night, or we have to backtrack to the last street and find another way through.”

  “Let’s do it here,” said Mike.

  “Why don’t we climb the fence and use one of these houses beside us,” Theresa interjected. “That way we at least have a safe backyard to retreat to if we have to run.”

  Damn, thought SSgt Brown. This kid is a natural. “Ok, Jackson you and General Patton here check that back yard. Mike, help me look over this fence.” They did.

  SSgt Brown looked over the fence. He’d later swear the barking of the emaciated dog in the back yard almost gave him a heart attack. He immediately backed away from the fence, dragging Mike with him. He glanced at the street. The zombies were no longer enjoying their feast, but were shuffling over to investigate the noise.

  Jackson was franticly waving everyone over the fence he was straddling. “C’mon guys,” he whispered loudly. One by one he helped them over. SPC Wilcox needed Mike to help him over too. Finally SSgt Brown was over the fence. Jackson dropped from his perch. Peering through the slats in the wood, he could see the gaggle of zombies begin pawing at the fence that protected the dog from its would-be attackers. It continued to bark furiously at the unseen invaders.

  SSgt Brown tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, the NCO was waving his hand towards the sliding glass door of the house. Jackson took one last look through the fence. Six zombies were in site, clawing at the grey wood of the fence opposite him. The dog continued barking.

  He turned and walked to the sliding door. “Same as before guys,” the NCO whispered. The group stacked up, Pvt Jackson taking his place at the lead of the group. He peered through the glass. The door would open into a large living room. He could see an opening into the kitchen to the left, and a hallway opening in the far right corner. There wasn’t anything moving that he could see.

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed on the door handle. The sliding door made a muffled click, and slid open. Jackson immediately charged in, rifle to his shoulder. He swept from left to right, following the wall as he advanced.

  SSgt Brown followed the young trooper through the door, sweeping right to left. He continued into the kitchen as he finished his sweep. Mike, Jen, and Theresa followed. Theresa walked straight towards the hallway, shotgun at her shoulder.

  “Clear,” Jackson called out quietly. The mantra was repeated four times by the team. Mike moved to the front door as he heard the group clear the front of the house. Turning the handle, he confirmed that the door was indeed locked. When he turned, he saw the rest of the group stacking up on the hallway, while Wilcox was sliding the back door closed.

  “Ok,” SSgt Brown started. “Jackson and I will clear the rooms. You guys stay in the hall, and deal with anything coming down the hall. The group followed the two scout troopers. In a few minutes the house was confirmed to be empty.

  The former owners had obviously left in a hurry. Both children’s beds had been stripped of their bedding, and clothes had been pulled from drawers. The cupboards were relatively empty. There was a gun case in one of the rooms, but it was opened, and empty. Jackson found himself wondering what fate had befallen the family that had lived here.

  “Hey,” Mike announced. “They got real food in the fridge.” The two Cavalry troopers, Jen and Theresa ran into the kitchen. None of them had had anything decent to eat in a few days. SSgt Brown’s stomach growled at the thought of real food.

  Mike was pulling containers of leftovers out and tossing them onto the counter. He found what he was looking for. He looked at the microwave. What the hell, he thought. He tossed the container in and shut the door quietly. He turned the knob on the front, rewarded with the low buzz, telling him his feast would soon be warm enough to enjoy. The others took their turn looking through the refrigerator and containers of leftovers.

  Within minutes the group was eating a hot meal for the first time in several days. “I need to meet the lady who cooked all of this,” Jen said. “She is an amazing cook.” Mike shoveled another spoon full of gumbo into his mouth. He just grunted and shook his head.

  “This reminds me of my wife’s gumbo,” added SSgt Brown. “You ever have gumbo Wilcox?”

  “No Sergeant,” he answered. “I’m from Michigan. We don’t have a lot of Cajun restaurants up there.”

  “Here,” the NCO handed Wilcox a spoon full of the local signature dish. “Try this. It’s a bit spicy.”

  The young aviation trooper shoved the spoon in his mouth with his good hand. “Wow, this is amazing.” Jen noticed that Wilcox’s cheeks flush just a little.

  “Not too hot for you is it?” she asked. They all laughed as Wilcox turned up his Dr. Pepper.

  “Maybe just a bit,” he replied. They all laughed again.

  SSgt Brown thought about how stressful the past few days had been. He thought about Anderson and how he had handled that situation. He thought about his wife an
d kids. He knew they were dead, just like everyone else. The image of his wife screaming as she tried to protect the kids flashed into his mind. He felt a wave of nausea. He gave Wilcox his bowl of gumbo. Mumbling something about taking a piss, he got up and walked to the back of the house.

  Jen could see the smile fade from the big soldier’s face. She knew that he didn’t need to empty his bladder. She knew something else was up. She thought about getting up and talking to him. No, she thought, he’ll talk when he’s ready.

  SSgt Brown walked to the back of the house. He didn’t know what he was looking for but he needed to keep his mind occupied. He’d seen this before. When he lost two troopers from his squad in Iraq, he’d done this: he would sink himself into the job of leadership and block out the pain that he felt.

  He looked through the blinds covering the window of the first bedroom he came upon. The sun was going down. Street lights were coming on up and down the street. The front of the house appeared to be clear. Where was everyone? If they were zombies, why weren’t they wondering this street?

  He did a quick inventory of the room he was standing in. It must have belonged to a young girl. The walls were a light shade of purple. There were a couple of unicorn posters on the wall. There were several dresses that had fallen to the bottom of the closet. He shook his head and walked to the next room.

  This was clearly a boy’s room. There was a gaming system attached to a small TV. There were sports pendants and posters on the wall, and the floor was covered with little cars, and toy guns. There was a BB gun leaning up against the wall near the bed. He closed his eyes. He could see a pre-teen boy wielding that BB gun in an attempt to fend off the hoard of zombies.

  Walking into the master bedroom, he saw a king sized bed stripped of all linen. He found the empty gun case. He looked in the closet. There before his eyes were an Air Force uniform. The name “Sanderson” was sewn above the left shirt pocket in blue. On the sleeves was the rank of an Air Force Master Sergeant. That explains a lot. He could imagine the Air Force NCO packing his family up and moving them on base in an attempt to escape the horror that walked the street.