Dead Man's Land: Books of the Dead 3

by R. J. Spears

  “Then what are we going to do?” Russell asked.

  “They’re not getting in here with all these zombies around.”

  “But we can’t go anywhere, either,” Maggie said.

  I let that go.

  “Is there more fuel around?” I asked.

  “There’s some in the shed, but that’s fifty feet off the back of the building and there’s a whole hell of a lot zombies out there,” Russell replied.

  He was more than right. The ruckus we had made drew a lot of attention from the undead, with a mass of them teeming in and around the loading dock. I toyed with the idea of heading out of the front and making a run for the woods, when the decision was taken out of my hands.

  The helicopters, which were once floating gently in the sky like butterflies, got angry and brought all their firepower to the party.

  To say it was awe inspiring was an understatement. I’m sure my mouth fell open and stayed that way for the next few seconds. Maybe minutes. They opened up with their big guns, bursts of yellow and orange raining down from the barrels of the weapons, and started churning up the zombies like a tree shredder. It didn’t matter if they were armored or not, the bullets ripped the zombies apart. Limbs were shredded off the zombies, sending geysers of blood into the air. Torsos were torn into pieces as if they were made out of wet paper.

  Knowing no fear, the zombies didn’t run, but looked skyward, transfixed on the birds of prey that circled the complex. It was as if the noise of the guns attracted the undead as they clustered into the field. In the shriveled brains of the zombies, noise meant activity, which meant the possibility of food. Always hungry, they came to feed. But in this case, noise meant destruction.

  “Holy shit,” Maggie said under her breath. “Holy shit.”

  This went on for several minutes as the helicopters strafed the field around the complex. The pounding of the guns shook the windows in the building. Zombie blood and guts filled the field, turned the once green grass red. The zombie throng thinned out considerably after ten minutes, but more rogue zombies, attracted by the commotion, filtered in from the woods. While one helicopter concentrated on the ones left standing in the field, the other flitted off and took out these newcomers.

  It wasn’t much of a welcome, but the zombies weren’t a very welcoming lot, either.

  A little warning alarm went off in my head and finally pulled my attention away from the carnage and I looked to the west. The hill where the burning trucks still sat was lined with Humvees and other military vehicles, sitting and waiting their turn. An electric wire lit up in my gut and I knew that they meant trouble.

  “Hey guys, the ground troops are here,” I said.

  It took an act of will for the others to break their gaze away from the field and to look to the west. The impact of the military vehicles stunned them as Jo and Russell took a step away from the windows. I resisted the impulse.

  “Holy shit,” Maggie said. I’m sure she had a more diverse vocabulary, but those recent events must have reduced her cognitive functions somewhat.

  “Joel, are you sure these are the bad guys?” Jo said.

  “Yes and no,” I said. “They want Jason. Maybe if I get him away, they’ll move on.”

  “What if they don’t like you taking him?” Brother Ed said.

  “I’m not letting them take him,” I said. “Not without a fight.”

  “Did you see their firepower?” Maggie asked. “That’s not a fight you’re going to win.”

  “I hope to be long gone from here before a fight can even start.”

  “How are you getting Jason out of here?” Jo asked.

  “Anyway, I can.”

  One of the helicopters buzzed across the field, spraying bullets on a small group of rogue zombies that came through the trees. Zombies and trees alike were shredded, with body parts mixing with falling leaves and limbs.

  “Russell, give the walkie-talkie back,” I said, holding out my hand. He complied and immediately started talking to Kara. “Kara, can you get to the old farm?”

  “Yes,” she said, but I could hear a question in her tone.

  “Greg put a cache of supplies there. We’ll need that.”

  “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “There’s not a lot of time,” I said. “Send the others east and just get to the farm and lay low. I’ll meet you there.”

  “But how are you going to do that?”

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  “Don’t you always.”

  We were back at the dock in less than a minute. With the zombies sliced, diced, and turned to mush, the field was now mostly open. A few zombie stragglers shambled about, walking over what was left of their moribund comrades. The only thing we had to worry about were the helicopters. Not that they were a small problem. From their dexterity to their weaponry, they made the zombies look like the Powder Puff girls.

  “What’s your plan?” Jo asked as we peered out across the field.

  “We need to get some fuel in that dump truck,” I said.

  “How are you going to do that?” Brother Ed asked.

  “Very carefully,” I said, trying to keep it light, but no one was in the mood. Party poopers, was all I could think. “I’m going to the shed, get some fuel and then I’m going to run to the truck and fill it up as much as I can.”

  “They’ll spot you in a second and cut you down like a dog,” Maggie said.

  “Aren’t you Miss Optimism?” I said.

  “I just call them as I see’em,” she said.

  “You’re going to need a distraction,” Aaron said.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Like me running out into the field towards the woods as if I were going to escape.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” I said.

  “You don’t have to,” he said. “I’m doing it.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t shoot at them,” I said. “If you shoot and they return fire, you’re toast.”

  “I’ll run out of the north building and head for the woods,” he said. “That’ll get their attention.”

  “What if they shoot everything that moves?” Jo asked.

  “I don’t think they will, if they want Jason alive,” Aaron said.

  “That’s a big if,” Jo said.

  “It’s one I’ll take,” Aaron said. In the past, he had been aggressive, but most of his bravado came from following Brandon. There was something different and more determined in him now than there had been. Maybe it was the ‘screw-it-all’ attitude you get from losing someone you loved? Maybe he just felt he needed to step up?

  “Who’s going with him?” I asked.

  There was some hesitancy on the others part, but Jo said she would.

  “I would prefer you stay with Thomas,” I said.

  “That leaves me,” Brother Ed said, shaking his head. “I can--” he started to say, but Maggie cut him off.

  “What am I? Chopped liver? Look at this thing around my neck. It goes off tomorrow morning and I’m dead anyway. I’ll do it.”

  It was in that moment she went from being an enemy to something else. Ally was too strong of a word, but I felt that we could give her some rope.

  “Okay, that’s set,” I said. “I’ll give you five minutes and then I’m heading out the back.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Aaron said.

  “Not quite,” I said, pulling him aside and whispering. “Do you still have the sat phone we took off that one soldier?”

  “Yeah, it’s up in our…” he stopped, remembering that Brandon was dead and his words got lost for a second. “It’s up in my room.” His expression was fixed in a grimace, fighting back whatever emotions nearly overwhelmed him.

  “We have the other one at the old farm,” I said. “I’ll check in with that phone to your phone every morning at 6:00 AM if I can.”

  “But won’t they be able to track you?” he asked.

  “I’ll pop it on and then pop it off as fast as
I can. It’s a risk, I’ll have to take. And don’t tell anyone about the phone. Okay?”

  “Sure,” he said, then added, “Of course, all this depends on whether I survive providing you a distraction.”

  “There is that,” I said.

  The event window was closing. I could feel it as I watched out across the field. The helicopters glided in the sky around the complex, dispatching the remaining undead with precision and without mercy. Brother Ed and Jo stood beside me while Thomas stayed beside the doorway and out of harm’s way. Both Jo and Brother Ed’s expressions were tight and neither spoke as the seconds ticked by.

  A helicopter zipped across the back of the building and we ducked out of view. I took my thousandth look at my watch and said, “They’re probably in position.”

  “Don’t go before they do,” Jo said.

  “We may not have time,” I said, but I waited and listened.

  “Jo, you and Brother Ed are in charge while I’m gone.”

  She gave me an incredulous look and said, “In charge of what? There’s just us.” She put a hand out toward Brother Ed, Russell, Maggie, and Thomas. Brother Ed looked irked that I hadn’t said that he alone was in charge, but there was no pleasing everyone and I was confident in my decision.

  “The others may come back,” I said. “They’ll need someone to lead them.”

  The helicopter that had just passed by came into view with its tail rotor facing away from us and hovered. It jockeyed around in the air for a few second and let loose with a volley of shots at something that was out of our field of view. It let up and I assumed that their target was eliminated.

  Without warning, it pivoted, its blades slicing the air and knocking up dust from the ground and headed around the corner of the building and out of view. Ten seconds later, a booming voice echoed our way, “Stop where you are.” There was a slight pause. “Stop running or we will be forced to shoot.”

  “That’s my cue,” I said turning to Jo. “Take care of Thomas, please. He’s been through a lot.”

  “I will,” she said and reached out a hand to draw him close. His expression seemed to loosen up as she pulled him to her side.

  I knelt down to Thomas and said, “You can trust Jo. She’s good people and she’ll do everything to protect you that I’ve done and more. Can you help take care of things here while I’m gone?”

  He didn’t say anything, but just nodded. I could see the fear and doubt in his eyes. Who could blame him? He had been a disposable pawn in a deadly game. He probably expected to die at any minute.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you while we’re around.”

  Jo put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

  “Later, tater,” I said to him and broke out of the doorway.

  The amplified voice boomed again, “This is your last warning.”

  I ran out the back door and along the side of the building in shadows until I got parallel to the shed. When I turned to look back to see if the coast was clear, I sensed someone behind me and was sure a zombies was getting ready to munch down on my ass. I jerked around and none other than Brother Ed was behind me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.

  “How much fuel do you think you can carry?” he asked.

  “Enough,” I replied.

  “Not nearly enough,” he said. “That truck probably gets five miles per gallon, at best. You’ll be lucky if you can get across the field before it runs dry again. I’ll go with you and we’ll get enough for you to make it to the farm house.”

  I wanted to argue, but his logic was too sound. “Okay,” I said. “You ready to run?”

  He nodded. I didn’t hesitate and broke for the shed just as one of the helicopters opened up with their guns. I stopped dead in my tracks and my heart sank. Those shots meant that Aaron and Maggie were dead.

  “Stop or we will fire again,” the voice boomed again and relief swept over me. They wouldn’t be shouting commands at someone they had just shot down. There was still some hope, but I imagined that they weren’t going to go far.

  There was nothing I could do for them, so I recommenced my sprint, jerking my head left and right, on lookout for the helicopters. Brother Ed followed hot on my heels. We made it to the shed and I ripped the door open and jumped inside, pulling the door closed behind us as soon as he was inside.

  Calling it a shed was a bit of a misnomer. It was really a fairly sizeable garage that was built to house the vehicles and implements for lawn care and landscaping. Since the place never opened, no lawnmowers or weed eaters or other lawn care implements ever made it into it. We kept extra fuel and the ATV that I had driven earlier in it.

  It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, but I quickly spotted some empty fuel cans. I rushed over, grabbed two large ones, but Brother Ed stopped me.

  “You can’t run with forty gallons of fuel,” he said and grabbed two smaller ones and handed them to me. Once again his logic was impeccable. I took them and headed to the fuel drums. I knocked on the first one but it rang almost hollow. The second came back with a solid response and I grabbed the fuel dispenser handle and started filling my first container.

  We circulated the containers in and out as fast as we could, filling them to the top. We worked without speaking. Brother Ed grabbed a long piece of hose off one of the counters and wrapped it around his waist. Once the cap was on the last container, we hoisted the cans up and I learned that Brother Ed had been more than right. These were only ten gallons each and felt like I was lugging a river with me as the fuel sloshed inside the can with every step I took. I wanted to complain, but since Brother Ed wasn’t, I had to keep up appearances.

  I set down a container and slid the door open, peering out into the field, paying particular attention to the corner of the building where the helicopter had disappeared. Of course, my logic, once again, was not too logical. These helicopters could fly up and over the buildings at will.

  The coast was as clear as it ever was. We only had to loop around the shed and head for the dump truck. It was about a hundred feet away. That hundred feet looked like a mile because I knew once we stepped outside the shed we’d be out in the open and exposed.

  There was no place to go but forward. Brother Ed didn’t hesitate and followed right behind me. We made it the first fifty feet and it felt like my arms were about to fall off, but stopping to rest wasn’t an option. I gritted my teeth and just kept moving.

  I was huffing and puffing by the time we made it beside the truck. Brother Ed was too, but his breathing seemed disciplined and under control, while I was close to gasping.

  “Look where to fuel this damn thing,” I said between gasps.

  “Up here,” he said moving toward the front of the truck. “Behind the cab.” He waddled back and forth as he moved forward, reminding me of a duck. I kept that to myself.

  He set down his containers, uncapped the fuel port, and untied the hose from around his waist. He took the cap off one of his containers, jammed the hose down into it and put the other end in the fuel port. I wouldn’t have thought of that and would have been sloshing much of the fuel onto the ground. Brother Ed was proving to be more resourceful than I would have given him credit. He hoisted his container off the ground and the fuel made a ‘glug-glugging’ sound as it traveled down the hose and into the fuel tank on the truck.

  A voice boomed off the trees and I nearly jumped out of my skin, “Stay where you are with your hands on your head. If you attempt to run or take any offensive actions, we will be forced to shoot you.” I was sure we were cooked, but when I wheeled about no helicopters were visible. “Get down on your knees,” the voice said again. The sound bounced off the trees and came back towards us from the front of the buildings, which meant that the choppers were still in that area.

  Unflappable or oblivious, Brother Ed finished with his first container and started on the second one. I took the caps off both of mine to be ready when I needed to b
e, but once again, I felt like a time clock was ticking down on us.

  Brother Ed finished with his second container and I moved in with my first. The fuel felt like it was moving like molasses down the hose, but I kept the can elevated and waited it out.

  The tone of the helicopter blades changed in pitch and volume. My can finished emptying out just as the sound of the helicopter came closer. Brother Ed grabbed my shoulder and pushed me to the ground. “Roll under, so they can’t see us.”

  I did as I was told and, a second after I slipped under, Brother Ed came in behind me.

  The helicopter burst from around the corner of the building and came our way. The wind from its blades kicked up dust and grass from the field and blew them like a wind tunnel under the truck, forcing both of us to close our eyes.

  “I hope they don’t see the gas cans,” Brother Ed said loudly.

  While we couldn’t see the chopper from where were under the truck, I could sense it hovering nearby. These sensations seemed to go on forever, then the roar from the engine increased in intensity and the wind from its blades moved over and past us. Three seconds later, its gun sounded and, when I looked across the field, I saw a small group of zombies jitterbugging from the impact of the rounds and they literally shook apart, with pieces going in every direction. Even for zombies, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

  The helicopter drifted sideways fifty feet off the tree line, presumably searching for more undead. After about thirty seconds, it ascended and disappeared from view. There were no commands coming from the front of the complex, but the roar of the other helicopter resounded our way.

  Just to be safe, we stayed under the truck for another minute. When I felt like I couldn’t stay under the truck any longer, I slid out and Brother Ed followed. We quickly drained the other can into the tank of the truck.

  I set the can down and said, “Get in. I’ll drive you back to the building.”

  Getting in the truck was a leap of faith. While running left us exposed and vulnerable, there was the possibility of stealth. Once this truck started moving, there was no hiding. Ancient rusted out dump trucks were not known as being stealthy. Not in a million years.