by Allen Gamboa
"Good news, Herr Doktor." Wolf wiped his sweaty forehead. "When can we leave?"
"I have—" A loud pounding from the dead outside drowned out his voice. Annoyed, Orlac let out a deep breath and started again. "I have Doctor Henstridge and Moreno packing up all the vials we have made. Fifteen minutes perhaps."
"Okay." He grabbed up his assault rifle from a table top. "Here's the plan, Doktor. Meissner will toss some flash bangs from the rooftop down to the front of the lab. The noise should draw all them things to the front of the lab. While they are distracted, we make for the Jeeps then the airport."
Orlac smiled. "Not much of a plan, herr Zagers."
"Simple plan, less to go wrong, Doktor." He looked down at the rifle in his hands. "Any questions, Doktor?"
"No." Orlac turned back to his workroom. "Sounds like a perfect plan."
There was a loud, crashing sound. The boards covering one of the windows burst inwards as dozens of dead hands reached and tried to pull themselves inside. Some of the wood held, but most of it clattered to the floor. One of the techs, Bauer, who’d been trying to secure the boards, was pulled into the center of the mass of hungry undead. Bauer's horrible screams were quickly cut short by the deads' chewing and ripping sounds.
"Fuck!" Zagers shouted as he started to unload his rifle into the terrifying crowd. Rolf, another one of Zagers' men, ran up next to him and started firing head shots with his .45. The rest of the techs panicked and moved back into their workrooms.
"Here!" Klattenhoff moved both men out of the way. He carried an XM806 .50 caliber machine gun in his giant arms. "I've got this!"
The machine gun roared to life, chewing the mass of undead in the window to pieces. Hot shell casings pelted Zagers and Rolf then crashed to the floor as the weapon did its job. Black blood, flesh, and bone fragments splattered everywhere. When the XM806 was empty, nothing moved.
"Ya!" Klattenhoff shouted.
"Come on!" Zagers grabbed a table that was wider than the window. Rolf helped him cover the opening with it before the dead could regroup. Klattenhoff set the heavy weapon down and helped the other two reinforce the window. Orlac tentatively peeked his head out of his workroom. "Doktor, you better hurry! I hope that tech wasn't irreplaceable." Orlac turned pale and popped back into his office.
"Glad the home office didn't skimp on the weapons," Rolf smirked.
"I'm taking that baby home with me," Klattenhoff nodded. He was the compound's armorer. "That's the least the company can do for me!"
"Get some two-by-fours!" Zagers said, pushing back against the table. He could feel the undead hands on the other side. "These monsters aren’t going to stop!"
CHAPTER 32: GOOD NEWS/BAD NEWS
Amante knelt down on the dirt trail and wiped some sweat from his eyes. He looked back down behind him and could see the others trailing in the distance. Several loud pops ahead of him had the ex-ranger raising his mini-14 and glancing through his sights. He could barely see the compound through the trees and dense saw grass. Hundreds of deaders were amassed around the main building. Amante tapped on his headset.
"Major, this is Amante. I'm up top."
"Go ahead, Amante."
"Good news is the compound's about a quarter mile away. Bad news is there's a whole shit load of deaders trying to get in the lab."
"How many is a shit load?" Hale asked.
"Two, three hundred, sir."
The major grimaced. "Any sign of the Russians?"
"Can't tell. The lab’s got a couple of guys up top taking shots at the deaders."
"Good job, Amante. Hold up until we get there."
"Oh, and sir …"
"Yes, Amante?" Hale sighed.
"There's a twelve-foot chain-link fence surrounding the area."
"Anything else?"
"No, sir."
"Okay, Sergeant, just hold up."
"No problem, Major. I ain’t movin."
***
Not too much later, the group had reached the top and lay around Amante in the tall saw grass to watch the compound through binoculars and rifle scopes. Most of the troops welcomed the break after humping the trail in the tropical heat.
"Looks bad," Wickham said.
"Real bad." Hale scanned the area with his monocle. "We are going to have to shoot our way in. Wish we had that damn Pit Bull now."
"Lots of deaders." Zoe West wiped some sweat from her forehead. "I don't think we have 'nough bullets for all of 'em."
"Plan," Hale told them. "I have a plan. As soon as the captain gets here, we'll put it in action." He looked over at Wickham. "West, Diamond, Amante, ready grenades. When Brooks and Wu get here, toss them over to the right of the lab. The sound will draw the deaders away, and the motorcycles can lead them into the jungle. We swoop in; grab the doc, his people, and the vaccine; then beat it back down the trail to our rigs."
"I'm glad deaders are easy to distract," West chuckled.
"Like babies," Wickham added.
"Babies that will eat ya." West grabbed a couple of fragment grenades out of her pack. "My underhand is pretty good."
"Yeah, well, I won't make any throw like a girl comments while you’re holding frags, Zoe." Tim Diamond grinned. "I was never good at throwing those things."
"Give me yours, then, mate." She nodded and stuck her hand out. "I'll get 'em where they’re 'sposed to go."
"Sir," Wickham said to Hale, "we're going to need to remove part of that fence to get in."
"Yeah. Diamond, West, you have wire cutters on ya?"
"Don't leave 'ome without 'em." West smiled as she pulled a pair of wire cutters out of her pack.
"I got nothing but my K-bar," Diamond shrugged.
"Here, take mine." Wickham handed him a pair of cutters.
"What the heck is with you Australians?" Diamond asked as he took the tool from Wickham.
"Never know when you might run into a fence, mate." Wickham shrugged. "No worries."
"You two crawl up there and cut us a nice entryway," the major said, nodding at the fence.
"Gotcha, Major," West said, patting Diamond on the back. "Come on, mate, I'll show ya how to make a hole." She smiled lewdly.
"Sergeant Newman," Hale said, "pass the word to ready weapons. When I give the go ahead, we'll make for the lab." Newman nodded. "Your squad will provide cover while Lieutenant Wickham's squad enters from the rear. I'll go with them. Have Jefferson intercept the captain before they get up top. I want them far enough back so they can't be seen. When the grenades go off, I want them to haul ass past the lab and into the jungle. Lead those deaders away from us. Once they lose them, I want those two to double back to the airfield and secure the plane." He hit him on the shoulder. "Got it?"
"Right, sir." Newman moved back down the line of soldiers and repeated Hale's orders. The troops readied their weapons as quietly as possible. The presidents watched the rear of the group as the Australian sergeant crabbed over to their position.
"Hey, let us know when you hear the cap'n an' Wu approaching."
"You got it, Sarge," Jefferson nodded.
"Good, mates." He gripped Jefferson's shoulder and headed back over to Hale.
"Finally some action," Washington said, checking his rifle.
"Yeah." Jefferson watched the area behind them. "Sooner we get into the mix, the sooner we get paid and home."
"Lissen', Jeff, I really don't want to screw a deader." Washington smiled weakly.
"Too late, Wash. Cat's outta the bag. You’re a deader fucker. Can't change that, bro." Jefferson smiled.
"Jeff …"
"Shh! I hear something."
Jefferson could hear the whine of the two motorcycles straining up the hill. He raised his rifle and looked through his sights. He could make out Captain Brooks' bike in the lead, followed by Wu. The former Marine lowered his rifle and looked back at Washington.
"It's the captain and Wu. Let Sergeant Newman know," Jefferson said, hurrying down to intercept the two and relay Hales' orders.
"Roger that." Washington took off towards the others.
CHAPTER 33: WELCOME TO THE PARTY
Captain Brooks gunned the bike up the steep, narrow horse trail. It felt good and a little freeing to be able to tear right up the path with little effort. Wu followed closely on her tail, trying to keep up with her. The wind on them was a welcome break from the oppressive jungle heat. Brooks knew it would suck when they eventually joined the others on foot. It had been so long since she had ridden that the captain had forgotten how much she missed it. Suddenly, from near the top of the trail, she could see one of her men emerge, waving his arms for them to stop. Brooks eased up on the throttle as she recognized it as one of the presidents, Jefferson, trying to flag them down. The captain quickly signaled for Wu to slow down in case he hadn't seen Jefferson. As her cycle wound to a stop, Jefferson sprinted over to her.
"Welcome to the party, Captain! Got new orders from the major," Jefferson said, sliding to a halt next to the bike's front tire. "Looks like this is it."
"Great." Brooks slid up her goggles and wiped some dirt from her face. She could feel the heat start to press down on her. "What does he need us to do?"
"Ride," Jefferson smiled. "Ride like the motherfucking wind, Captain."
"I sure as hell can do that, Sergeant," she said, returning his smile. "Sergeant Wu may need a shove though."
"My ass hurts!" Wu said from behind her.
CHAPTER 34: DON'T BE A FUCKING SNAIL
"We are ready, Wolf," Meissner said into the radio as he watched Hoffman load the grenade launcher Klattenhoff had just delivered to them on the rooftop. Hoffman cradled a Vietnam-era M79 grenade launcher in his hands. It never ceased to amaze Meissner of all the weaponry that Klattenhoff had at his disposal. The company spared no expense on armament but couldn't get them a fricking helicopter to fly their asses out of there. What was wrong with this picture? "Hoffman's loading the flash bangs now."
"Good. We are about done here."
"We will fire on your mark, Wolf." Meissner reloaded his rifle. The moaning grew louder as the undead below became more agitated. The rising smell from the surrounding horde was almost unbearable. It seemed the corpses rotted so much quicker in the tropic heat.
"After Hoffman fires off all the grenades, you two head for the Jeeps."
"I have keys for J-3," Meissner said, reaching into his front BDU shirt pocket and finding the key ring.
"Good. You and Hoffman take it and meet us at the airstrip. Take anyone you can with you."
"Will do, Wolf." He glanced over the edge of the roof at the ever-growing crowd of hungry dead and swallowed. He hoped to hell this was going to work. Meissner never was a fast runner. He looked back at Hoffman and chuckled. His father used to tell him a joke about a bear attack; he just had to be faster than the other guy. Meissner set the radio down next to him. "Hoffman."
"Ya." The other man looked up from the grenade launcher that shook slightly in his hands. He too had doubts about what was going to happen.
"You ever run track?" Meissner asked, frowning.
"No." Hoffman squinted. "My daughter does though. Real good sprinter."
"Your side?"
"No, my wife ran on the national team. Me, I'm like a snail."
"Too bad." Meissner looked back down at the hungry mass of meat below.
"You?"
"No." He shook his head. "Fastest I ever ran was from an ex that was going to stab me."
"Well, Meissner, pretend those fucks are your exes, and they have hundreds of knives headed for your balls."
Meissner smiled slightly and glanced down at the silent radio, all thoughts of malice towards Hoffman vanishing. "Hoffman, once we go, stay close to me." He started to get into a firing position. "I'll carry you on my back if I have to. Just don't be a fucking snail."
"Don't worry Meissner, I'll be so far up your ass you'll think I'm Prince Charming." They both chuckled.
"Anything happens to me," Meissner said, "keys are in my left front pocket."
"You're just hoping for me to cop a feel," Hoffman grinned.
"Fuck you, Hoffman." Meissner smiled and shook his head. "You are too ugly for me." Both men laughed as the radio crackled to life.
CHAPTER 35: WHAT'CHA THINKING?
"That was way too close, Nate," Jackson said wiping his forehead with a rag. Despite the cockpit’s air conditioning, the co-pilot was still sweating. "Way, way too close."
"Well." Crossley was watching the vacant tarmac below them. "I told you to bring the gun."
"I know. I know. Probably a good thing I didn’t. I probably would have blown us all up." He finished wiping his face. Crossley was still absently looking out the cockpit window. "What'cha thinking, Nate?"
"I'm thinking they better hurry their asses up!" He looked over at Jackson then nodded toward the window. "Have a look, Cal."
"What?" Jackson stood up and leaned over the pilot. The bright sunlight made him squint, but he could still make out the dozen or so figures staggering around the airfield aimlessly. He sat back down heavily in his seat. "Deaders."
"Uh huh, a dozen or more." He tapped on his headset. "Hey, Gator, Poncho, could you come up here?"
"Sure thing, flyboy," Knox belched into his mic.
"Thanks." Crossley pulled his headset down around his neck. If he wasn't getting well paid and wasn't such a nice guy and afraid of Hale, he'd have started up the bird and flown their happy asses out of here. He looked over at Jackson, who was looking out his own window and dabbing at the cold sweat on his forehead.
"Yeah?" Knox said, pushing up the cockpit door, followed by Sanchez. Both soldiers were drinking from water bottles and munching on power bars.
"What's up?" Sanchez asked.
"We have deaders on the tarmac." Crossley pointed out the window. "A whole slew of them."
"Aw, crap," Sanchez cursed as he watched the undead staggering below.
"Can you take them out?" the pilot asked.
"Well," Gator burped, "they can't get us in here. Why waste the lead?"
"They might cause a problem when your boss gets back. We want to be able to pack them in and get the hell out."
Gator looked down at Sanchez, who had a mouthful of power bar, and shrugged. "What the hell. Grab a couple of suppressed minis, Poncho.”
"No problemo," Sanchez said, disappearing out the door.
"When I give the word, flyboy, drop the rear ramp," Gator said, turning back to the aft section of the plane. "If my little buddy gets bit, I'm coming back up here for both your butts! Got it?" Both pilots quickly nodded. "Good. I'll be in touch as soon as we’re ready."
CHAPTER 36: CLUSTER F--K!
Meissner shoved the radio in his pants pocket and nodded curtly at Hoffman. The other security man swallowed, smiled weakly, and nodded back. The show was about to begin. He crouched farther down on the roof and started to pick out targets with his rifle scope. Hoffman, rifle slung, crawled closer to the edge of the roof for a better shot with the grenade launcher. Adjusting his sweat-drenched ball cap, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. Meissner hated the tropics. Give him cool Euro weather any day.
"On three," Meissner told Hoffman, who nodded. Sweat was running freely down the sides of Hoffman’s face as he raised the launcher’s barrel.
"One … two … three!"
Hoffman pulled the trigger on the launcher and fired towards the tree line where the Russians lay hidden. The Germans had no idea the mercenaries were out there. Before the flash bang hit the ground, Hoffman was reloading. He fired again with a thunk as the first grenade detonated. As the second grenade left the launcher, he was grabbing the last flash bang when he was struck in the left shoulder by a round from the Russians. The impact drove Hoffman backwards onto the rooftop. The grenade launcher flew out of his hands and over the side of the building.
"Shit!" Meissner slung his rifle and crawled over to Hoffman, who was rolling around in pain on the roof. Keeping low, Meissner ripped off part of his shirt an
d pressed it over Hoffman's bleeding shoulder.
"How does it look?" Hoffman asked through gritted teeth.
"Looks through and through," Meissner said, tying off the makeshift dressing. "You are going to be okay, I think. Quit moving."
"I was just fucking shot!"
"You special now?" Meissner pushed him down and finished securing the dressing. "I don't think it hit anything going in." He smiled. "Might as well have just shot you in the head. Stay down. I'm going to have a look and see what the fuck is going on."
"I don't want to be stuck up here, Meissner," Hoffman groaned, wide eyed.
"That's two of us." He patted him on the other shoulder. "Stay put." He crawled over to the edge. Meissner could hear grenade explosions and small arms fire mixed in with some screams and the moans of the undead. What the fuck was going on? The whine of motorcycle engines joined the mess as he slowly peeked over the edge. An explosion and a wave of boiling-hot air shoved the German security man onto his back. He tried to force his eyes open, and when he finally did, he saw a sky full of fire. All the sounds were then blocked out by the ringing in his ears.
***
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Arkady was up on one knee and firing at the two motorcycles as they sped past and disappeared into the jungle. He dropped the AK to his side as he watched several dozens of the zombies stumble after the bikes. More of the dead were headed his way, drawn by the flash bang grenades. A couple of his men had been severely wounded when one of the grenades landed on top of them. The flash bangs had disoriented his team for a quick minute, disrupting their attack.
"Kata!" Arkady shouted. "Kata! The gas pumps!"
Kata struggled to her knees. There was a loud ringing in her ears, and her vision was fuzzy from the Germans' flash bangs. Unsteadily, she raised the grenade launcher and fired off two rounds towards the red pumps. The first grenade landed short, shredding a group of the undead. The second grenade found its mark. The gas pumps erupted in a huge fireball, sending the zombies flying in all directions in flaming pieces. Kata grinned as she felt the searing shockwave push her down into the grass. Even fucked up, she thought, I can still blow shit up!