Foster stared down at what had been a pretty young woman and said, “Get the Captain, she’s gonna want to see this.”
As one of the riflemen ran off to find Miklos, Cappoletti stood over Gregg. His face was beyond recognition. Much of his upper torso, uniform torn away from it, was ravaged. Sadly, Cappoletti placed the barrel of his rifle near his friends head and fired once.
Gregg wouldn’t be coming back.
Miklos stared down at the heads. Why the hell would these maniacs take the time to brand people? Damn it, she knew they’d been dumping civilians here too quickly. Lazarites were among them. They needed to be stricter when checking rescuees in. Shaking her head, she looked around the building. Who would ever want to inhabit this place ever again? What happened here was beyond horrible. She was going to recommend that it be demolished. Holding Gregg’s ID tags she stared at the stripped down corpse – they never left anything for the enemy – then tucked them away. Gregg had been a fine soldier. Miklos would miss his good nature and steady ways. The Enclaves couldn’t afford to lose troopers like him.
Activating her comm she said, “All troops, rally outside the school. We’re moving out in ten.”
Out of the abattoir the former public school was, Miklos called for Jericho. “Get Diggs on the horn for me.”
Jericho had the colonel on the line in seconds. “Big Dog here, what’s the sitrep?”
“Big Dog, this is Kennel actual. We’ve reached the school. It was a slaughterhouse there. Intel was right on two points, some have gone cannibal and we have evidence of a Lazarite presence here. We are minus one.”
Diggs chewed this over, knowing that this was eating at Miklos. “Keep at the job at hand, Captain. Is the playing fielded secure?”
“Negative, we haven’t taken the armory, yet.”
“Let me know when the armory is secure, and keep on your toes! Big Dog, out.”
“Roger that, Kennel out.”
The SADT moved off, keeping in a neat skirmish line. Zombies weren’t as big a problem as humans with guns were. Too many people chose to shoot first and talk second. In some areas that might be all right, but not where a hard-core unit of heavily armed military was present. It wasn’t known how many would be survivors ended up dead by firing on their rescuers.
The armory had originally been a stable, built back when the U.S. Army had run Governor’s Island. When the Coast Guard moved in, the stables were rebuilt as a barracks, and when the rise started, part of it was converted to an armory. Fortunately, it hadn’t been fully stocked, but there were plenty of small arms. Unfortunately, the records of what were there were lost in the mutiny.
Miklos lay prone on the grass, staring at the building. It was three stories high and had two arching entries. One part of the building had been burned, the smell of the fire faint but noticeable. Who had done this? Retreating Coasties or the mutineers? Miklos stared through her NVG’s looking for movement. Surely, they had to have someone keeping watch. Could they be that weak from hunger? Perhaps the cannibals only held the small boat station? They would have to do more recon, since it wasn’t part of her plan to throw lives away.
Suddenly her headset lit up, “Captain, this is Hoyle. I’ve got movement by the second arch! Looks like two people carrying torches.”
Flipping up her NVG’s, Miklos half rose to her feet. Turning her head slowly she saw what Hoyle had seen; two people, dressed in several layers of mismatched, worn clothing, carrying torches. Keeping an eye on them she said, “Bryce, Saunders. See if you can take at least one of them alive.”
Bryce slung her assault rifle and drew on sap gloves. A device many of the soldiers carried, a good stiff blow from these lead filled gloves could bring down a human or stun a zombie. Bryce practiced endlessly in the gym, engaged in endless rounds of punching. Saunders slung his weapon and cracked his knuckles. A large man, proficient in Tae Kwan Do, he didn’t usually need any assistance in taking someone down. On more than one mission, he had destroyed zombies with powerful blows of his nomex-gloved hands. The two of them slid forward on their bellies until they were close enough to smell their enemy.
“These fucks are like sheep,” one was saying. Illuminated by the torch he carried, Bryce could see a roughly applied red diamond on his coat. The other was a woman, who, under her clothing, appeared to be slender. Her clothes were also marked. Bryce suspected that the diamonds were drawn in blood.
“I don’t understand why Unger doesn’t let us have power in this part of the building,” she was complaining. “Be easier to do things if we had some juice.”
“I wouldn’t say that so loud,” replied the first. “You might end up in the pot with those others.”
The woman, who would be attractive cleaned up, sneered. “If he doesn’t fucking find some way to get us off this shit hole, we’ll be eating him!”
The first laughed and put a hand on her shoulder. “When did they say we had to have the next sacrifice ready?”
“Not for a while.”
The woman dropped her torch on the ground and moved closer. The man threw his down and pulled her into an embrace. As his hands roved over her body, the two soldiers saw their chance. Bryce hopped to her feet, followed by Saunders. Within seconds the two love struck Lazarites were on the ground, bound and gagged. Saunders stamped the torches out and kicked them aside. Bryce grinned. “Let’s go!”
17 February 2032
22nd SADT
Near Officers Row
Governor’s Island
Miklos stared down at the two prisoners. Motioning for the woman to be moved a bit away, she slapped the man awake. With a start, his eyes opened.
“Name?”
The man focused his eyes, blinking at the light. “Who the fuck are you?”
Miklos cracked him across the face, hard enough to split his lip. “I ask the questions. Name.”
“Vinnie.” A look of fear was creeping onto his face.
“How many of you fucks are in that building?” Miklos had seen a lot in this first year of the Zombie war. She wasn’t taking any crap from this man. Lives were lost; friends of hers had disappeared into the maelstrom created by the rising of the dead. Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her combat knife, put it to Vinnie’s earlobe, and sliced it open. The movement was so quick; he didn’t even scream. Moving the knife, she held the point of the blade to a nostril.
“I don’t have a lot of time here, scumbag. One more time, how many in the building?”
Vinnie could feel the blood flowing from his earlobe, sticky and wet as it slid down his neck. He’d been on the other side of the knife, watching people beg before they were cut up for stew or other things. Being on this side of the blade gave him a new perspective on how much he valued his own life.
Miklos slit his nose, making him jump with the pain. There was no sawing the blade was that sharp. “Jesus, please stop!” He pleaded. “There are fifty five of us.” Miklos looked up at Cappoletti, who was dealing with the woman. Her mask was a face of blood, proof that she was being less helpful. Andy nodded, confirming what Vinnie told her.
Miklos nodded. “See? Cooperation is better than me using you for a carving board right?”
Those soldiers watching heard rumors that Miklos was a hard ass, but now they knew. She could have ordered someone else to do this, but believed in leading by doing.
“Are you eating other people? People not part of the mutiny?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation this time. “It’s Unger; Unger is the leader of the mutiny. He got aboard the island with some of us, waited, and when he saw his chance, took over.”
Miklos smiled. It was a horrible sight to see, since there was no warmth or humor in it at all. “And do you also have the small boat station?”
Vinnie’s face went ugly. “Those fucks? Hell, we took care of them already.”
“Any idea how many zombies are on the island?”
Vinnie licked his lips. “A lot of people got killed when we took over. The Bles
sed got taken away, to the, uh, cafeteria I think it’s called.”
“You mean the galley,” Miklos offered helpfully.
“Yeah, that’s what they called it.”
“You called them the Blessed? Who, the dead?”
Vinnie looked uncomfortable. “That’s what we have to call them. The Blessed.”
Miklos stared at the red diamond on his chest. “Do you have any more stingers?”
Vinnie stared at her blankly. “What are those?” Miklos looked up at Andy who was wiping his knife off. The woman was dead, her head lolling on her shoulders. This time he shook his head.
Miklos looked down at a tag half hanging out of the filthy jeans he was wearing. Raising an eyebrow, she pulled it out. Holding it up, she frowned. It was one of the ID’s survivors on the island were given. The name on it was Vincent Gialli. Dropping it on the ground Miklos asked; “You were one of the survivors, right?”
Gialli smiled sickly, “Anyone who resisted got chopped; I wanted to live.”
Miklos held the man by his chin. “Thank you.” Before he could speak again, she shoved her knife through his right eye and into his brain. His feet kicked quickly and stopped. Gialli’s time on this earth was done.
Miklos sighed deeply as the corpses were dragged off. There was no telling how many civilians who were not part of the mutiny still survived or how many enemies there were. There was no way of telling how many zombies were roaming the island. Best guess on the civilian populace before the mutiny was 100 to 500. Miklos did not like those odds. She also did not like the thought of assaulting that damned building. As she was forming a plan in her mind, Bowman and Bryce came to her talking excitedly. Her eyes widened as they spoke.
Letting them finish she nodded, “Let’s do it.”
17 February 2032
22nd SADT
Near Officers Row
Governor’s Island
Nance settled down behind his SAW, the weapon aimed at the front door of the armory. For the last hour, teams visited the other doors, sealing or blocking them from the outside with chains, barrels, crates – whatever was handy. Once this task was completed, three grenadiers took their places and loaded incendiary rounds, waiting for Miklos to give the word. The Lazarite bastards didn’t even have sentries out. They were that sure they were safe.
Sheryl stood; weapon tucked under one arm, chewing her lip. Killing humans still didn’t come easy, but in the end she relied on an option learned long ago; the good of the many outweighed that of the few. Especially when the few were traitors to humanity.
Activating her comset she said, “Fire.”
With chuffing sounds, the rounds arced up and out landing on the roof. Quickly reloading they fired three more rounds, then again. The white phosphorous contained within the shells spread quickly and the dry timbers of the roof caught fire quickly. Within moments, the upper floors were ablaze.
Miklos lay in a prone position, watching as the flames leapt up into the night sky. She wasn’t planning to take any prisoners. For what they’d done, they all deserved to die. Death was almost too good for those who would betray the living.
Shouts of “Fire!” began to filter down to the soldiers, then banging on the doors. As the flames spread, screams began to ring out, followed by shrieks of terror. From an upper floor came a body as someone tried to jump to safety. On fire, the flames flickered as the body plummeted to the ground. Miklos could hear bones crack as the pavement ended the fall. Bowman, lying in a prone position to Miklos right put a bullet in the smoldering body’s heads. They might not burn all the way to immobility, so he saw no sense leaving enemies behind.
At the rear of the unit, where Miklos had placed five lookouts, trouble was brewing. Corporal Tanya Weathers, staying in a copse of trees, stared at the road. There were shapes approaching and from the way they moved, she knew they weren’t human. The smell of the cooking traitors and the racket this resulted in was attracting the undead. Keeping an eye on the enemy, Weathers was hoping the rest of the lookouts were staying frosty. Keying her radio, she called the captain.
Weathers voice came through Miklos headset just as those still alive in the armory blew the front door off its hinges. The minute it collapsed outward, Nance opened up, hosing down three armed Lazarites who fell backwards into the dark hallway. From within came a few shots, then a voice called out, “We surrender! We surrender!”
Bryce, next to Nance, half rose and fired an incendiary straight in through the empty doorway. “Surrender this, mother fuckers!”
The round exploded with a bright white glare. A moment later screams replaced pleas and two men, both bearing the red diamond of the Lazarites, came running out. Both were smoking, the white phosphorus eating its way into their bodies. They were five feet from the door when shots took them down. The doorway was ablaze now, flames starting up the walls, smoke billowing out of the open windows above. Miklos felt sick, but she agreed with her people; this was only a building, the lives within it weren’t worth losing one of her own over.
“Captain, this is Weathers!”
“What’s the problem, Corporal?”
“We’ve got company, a lot of it. Zombies; and they’re coming this way!”
Weathers held her weapon tight, staring at the creatures, as they got closer. Two of the other watchers had fallen back quietly as they could, not wanting to attract the zombie’s attention. The fourth had just rendezvoused with them when screams, high and terrible filled the night air.
Against all her training, Private Emily Landry took a seat beneath a tree and fell asleep. Her rifle lay next to her, but it may as well have been on the moon when the zombies reached her. Helmet knocked askew (she had loosened the strap for a little comfort) she awoke to a zombies thumbs digging into her eyes at it tried to pull her head off. Screaming, she fought briefly, overwhelmed by the number of the creatures. One of the creatures put its foul mouth on her throat, worried her neck guard loose, and bit deep. Blood erupted out of the wound quickly weakening her. Falling sideways, they pulled her to the ground and began battling over her body.
Weathers cursed. She knew they shouldn’t have taken Landry with them! She was on edge, ready to lose it, but the team was already under strength. Moving forward a bit, Weathers took a grenade from her belt. There, fifteen meters away she could see a group of zombies. Stopping, Weathers closed her eyes and listened. Landry, none of them, were buttoned up so it was likely the trooper was dead. Pulling the pin from the grenade, Weathers bounced it toward where her friend lay dead. The weapon nearly landed in the lap of a zombie who lifted its head just as it exploded. The resulting explosion blew the zombie and Emily Landry's torn body to bits.
This done, Weathers tore off toward the safety of the SADT, the other three pickets following.
Miklos cursed as she called for Jericho. Weathers came erupting out of the darkness, nearly stopping a bullet for her problems. “Landry’s down, Captain.” Miklos could hear the tears in the younger woman’s voice. “Put it away for now, Corporal. We’ll mourn later.”
Jericho had his shotgun in one hand. “What’s up, Captain?”
Miklos spun him toward the road. There, just a few hundred meters away were the zombies. Staggering, walking, crawling travesties of humanity, Miklos was beginning to doubt there were any survivors left on the island.
“I need a strike right over there.”
Nodding, Jericho flipped down his mike, started talking. “Dragonfly, Dragonfly, this is Kennel, over.”
“Kennel, this is Dragonfly, need some ordnance?”
Miklos, on the same freq now, was amazed at the chopper pilot’s nonchalance. They ran the most missions of any of the aviation cadres, sometimes thirty a day and they still never sounded excited.
“We’re going to put some light on the situation, Dragonfly. Hold your fire near the burning building; we're close to that area. Keep the fire north of the road, near officer’s row, roger?”
“Roger that, Kennel. Keep your heads
down.”
As three soldiers readied parachute flares, Miklos spread her people out in a half circle, keeping a way back to the boats open in case they needed to run for it. With gentle pops the flares ignited, their eerie glow causing the zombies to stop and stare at the bright magnesium fueled glare of the flares. Some of the creatures reached for the sky, snarling. Others ignored the glow, driven by their need for flesh and stumbled forward.
Above Governor’s Island, the two Cobra helicopters had been waiting for this. The lead pilot, Lieutenant Carl “Kong” Leonard was an old hand. He’d been flying such mission’s years before this war began. Tilting his nose down for an attack run he said, “Guns first, Little Joe.” In the front seat, the gunner, Warrant Officer Joseph ‘Little Joe’ Handly, nodded. “Guns it is.”
The zombies looked up as the first chopper passed over them. With a roar, the electric mini-gun spewed its rounds into the creatures. Some burst from the impact of the bullets, others, spines broken folded backwards where they thrashed helplessly. Either way the heavy caliber shells smashed the creatures back to hell. On the ground watching, the troopers of the 22nd SADT were glad they weren’t on the hit list.
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