by David Achord
“Perhaps you have a point,” he conceded.
“Are you running?” Josue asked.
Conrad smiled. “It has been discussed.”
Josue made a face. “You people need to learn how to say yes or no.”
Suddenly, a shot rang out, causing us to stop our conversation.
“That came from somewhere around post three,” I said. Another shot rang out. All of us were armed with handguns, well, with the exception of Senator Nelson, but we ran together toward post three. It was occupied by Shooter and Kate.
“There’s somebody out there!” he shouted to us as he pointed toward the wood line.
I climbed into the guard shack and grabbed the binoculars as the field phone rang. The sun was setting, which caused the forest to be cast into deep shadows. Short answer, I didn’t see shit. I handed down the binoculars to Fred.
“Did you see anything?” the senator asked.
I shook my head. “Lots of shadows. Whoever it was is either long gone or they’re out there dead. Or hiding.”
We each took turns with the binoculars as Captain Fosswell rode up in a cart. Even though there was now four of us in the small guard shack, he climbed the steps and wedged himself in. I had to squeeze between him and the wall to get out. Fred did the same. He scanned the woods with the binoculars for around twenty seconds or so before setting them down and giving a tremendous sigh.
“Somebody has an overactive imagination and is wasting ammo,” he declared.
“Dude, I’m telling you, somebody was out there,” Shooter retorted.
Fosswell gave him a harsh stare. “It’s not dude. You will address me either as sir or by my rank.”
“Shooter, come on out here,” I said. The last thing we needed was for another one of us to put our hands on Fosswell. Shooter clambered down the steps and walked over to where we were standing. His expression showed both frustration and agitation.
“I’m not making this shit up, man. There was somebody out there.”
“I believe you,” I said. He looked at me a little bit in surprise and realized I was taking him seriously.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Was it a person or a zed?” Fred asked.
Shooter looked at Fred, and after a moment, shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Tell us what you did see,” I suggested.
He yelled up at Kate. “Hey, come down here.”
He waited for her to exit the guard shack. Junior Fosswell was now in the shack by himself, so he followed her out.
“So, Kate was looking around with the binoculars. She said she thought she saw something and pointed.” He pointed at a gnarly oak tree about seventy-five yards back in the woods.
“So, I take the binoculars and have a look-see. Sure enough, there was someone peeking out from behind the tree.” He looked at everyone, wondering if one of us was going to call bullshit.
“Keep going,” I said. “What’d you do next?”
“I told Kate to get on the phone and report it, just like we’re supposed to, right?”
Kate nodded in agreement.
“So, I holler out at him, but he doesn’t do anything.”
“What made you think it was a male?” Fred asked. The question seemed to confuse Shooter. He stared at Fred, but didn’t answer.
“Was it tall or short?” I asked.
“Um,” he responded. He was searching his brain, but was coming up dry.
“He was tall,” Kate said. “About Fred’s size, but not as tall as you. So, it was either a man or a tall woman.”
“Fair enough, so what happened next?” Fred asked.
Shooter’s jaw tightened, so Kate nudged him.
“Alright, so he’s not answering when I holler at him, so I shot above his head into the tree. He ducked back behind the tree and then I saw two of them take off running. I might have clipped one of them, I don’t know.”
“Let me get this straight, they were running away and you shot at them?” Captain Fosswell asked. Shooter reluctantly nodded. The captain stood there a moment, looking at Shooter like he was the proverbial redheaded stepchild.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Fosswell muttered.
“He didn’t do anything wrong,” I contended. I pointed out at the woods. “Why is someone sneaking around out there? If they were friendly, they would’ve come to the front gate and introduced themselves.”
He looked at all of us sourly, with the exception of Fred, who he pointedly ignored. He walked over to his cart and got on. He took one last look at us.
“You know what I think? I think you Tennessee people have more bullets than brains.”
With that proclamation, he drove off.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Shooter reasserted.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “He’s got his panties in a wad, but I bet nothing will come of it.”
“They’re too worried about who is going to be the next el presidente,” Josue said. He gestured around. “See? Nobody else even came out to see what was up.”
I looked at the senator to see if he had a comment. He saw me looking and only offered a slight smile.
Captain Fosswell did not feel it was necessary to inspect the area where Kate and Shooter saw the two people, so we did. Senator Nelson was visibly nervous about going out, but even so, he joined us.
Shooter, who remained at the guard post, guided us to the spot. Josue pointed at a spot behind a tree.
“Looks a little trampled down, man,” Jorge said.
We all agreed. I went up to the spot and looked things over. I even pantomimed peeking out from behind the tree toward the guard post.
“Yeah, it’s a good spot to spy on post three,” I said and looked at Fred. “Where was that man you spotted scoping things out?”
He pointed at another tree, about twenty yards over and a little deeper in the wood line.
“So, people are watching the place,” Senator Nelson remarked.
“It would appear so,” I agreed and looked at the sun. “Well, it’s getting dark; I suppose we should get back inside.’
“Yes, by all means,” Senator Nelson said and looked at us anxiously.
After reentering the gate, Jorge motioned for Fred and me to hang back while the others walked inside.
“Me and pops have been talking,” Jorge said. Josue nodded.
Fred and I looked at him, waiting for him to explain.
“Things are getting weird around here,” he continued. “And we were wondering if we should stay here or maybe leave.”
“And go back to Tennessee?” I asked.
Josue nodded again. “What do you think?” he asked.
I looked at Fred. I knew he wasn’t sure about this place, but he remained quiet.
“I understand the sentiment, and I’m inclined to go along.”
“But?” Josue asked.
“I’d like to see how this is all going to play out,” I said. “We have doctors here, a dentist, a vet, and when we go to bed at night, we’re sleeping in a secure location.” I looked at them and took a deep breath.
“If you’re asking my opinion, I’d say let’s give it until the spring. If things become drastic within the next week or two, we’ll leave before then. Kelly, Janet, and I have already discussed it and that’s what we’ve agreed to.”
“What do you think Shooter and Cutter will do?” Jorge asked.
“I’m pretty sure they’ll stay. Cutter has started messing around with that soldier, Stretch, or whatever her name is, so unless she dumps him, he’s happy here, and I honestly don’t care what Shooter does.”
The father and son looked at each other and spoke in Spanish. I only understood a word or two, but I could’ve swore Joker’s name was mentioned. The spoke for a couple of minutes before Jorge spoke to me.
“Maria says one of the Marines has been flirting with her,” he said.
“Let me guess: Joker.”
Josue nodded.
“I’ve gotten
to know him a little bit. He’s a little bit of a clown, but he seems like a good guy. But, if he’s causing problems, I’ll tell him to back off if you want,” I offered.
The two men looked at each other again. Josue shrugged.
“Nah, man, it’s okay. I think she likes him. She gets a big stupid smile on her face whenever his name is brought up.”
Chapter 33 – The Attack
Fred, Jorge, Josue, and I had spent most of the day at the armory reloading ammunition. It was tedious work, but it was better than sitting in a guard shack or cleaning the latrines.
“We done good, but I’m getting hungry,” Josue said.
I looked at my watch. “Yeah, let’s go eat.”
The field phone rang, waking Boner up. After a moment of an intense, heated conversation, he hung up and hit the alarm. The four of us looked at each other for maybe half a second. I hopped the half door into the armory and started tossing weapons and magazines out to my eagerly waiting friends.
“Holy shit,” Jorge exclaimed as we exited the front door. The two guards in the main post were firing as quickly as they could, but they weren’t taking the time to aim and the sheer numbers were overwhelming them. There were hundreds of them, maybe even more. It was hard to tell at the moment.
We took up positions and began firing. Slowly, methodically, making our shots count. Within seconds I heard additional gunfire coming from my right. I paused only a moment to see it was the reactionary force being led by Captain Fosswell. Unfortunately, they too were rushing their shots, resulting in low hit rates.
The front gate was open for some unknown reason and the zeds were pouring through. We were losing ground, there were too many of them. Whoever was in the guard shack had stopped firing. They were probably either dead or they’d closed the shutters before they got killed. I was about to yell for everyone to fall back when someone shouted behind me.
“Coming up!” I briefly turned to see Seth running up with another Marine. He knelt beside me and grinned.
“What’s up, Zach?” he asked lightheartedly as he began firing.
“Where’ve you been?” I shouted back over the noise of gunfire.
“Meetings, lots of meetings,” he said. “I’ve got Stretch with a group flanking around the left.”
It sounded like a plan. I hoped it worked, and I hoped the members of the reactionary force didn’t shoot any of them by mistake.
It seemed to take forever, but after only a few minutes, I heard the eruption of gunfire on the west flank. I looked that way and caught a glimpse of Stretch. She was standing behind a group of four people, shouting orders and directing their fire. In short order, they were firing into the flank of the horde and cutting them down rapidly.
“There’s my girl!” Seth shouted. “Alright, let’s get this shit over with.” He stood. “Everyone, get on line with me and start walking forward! Make your shots count, people!”
Within seconds, we began gaining an advantage. And more people started joining us. I strongly suspect they were cowering inside the buildings until they saw us winning, then they wanted to join in and try their hand at killing zombies. Seth gave me a look when a few of them ran up to us. I nodded knowingly. Whatever he thought about them, he kept to himself and hustled them on line. We slowly worked forward, firing as we went.
As we moved forward, Lois and Norman jogged up beside me. Both were carrying a bags full of magazines.
“Who needs ammo?” she shouted, and without waiting for answers, started going down the line handing out full magazines and picking up the empty ones.
I didn’t stop to count, but I figured there were a couple of dozen of us firing in concert now and the zombies were dropping like sacks of fetid shit.
We worked our way up to the main guard post and everyone stood in a loose line. As the zeds continued falling, their numbers began thinning and the rate of firing diminished.
We’d stopped their advance, and in fact were pushing them back toward the main gate. A year ago, they would have continued charging forward, but now, some of them seemed to have more of a survival instinct. Some still charged toward us, some stood there awaiting the inevitable, while others turned and began running away. After approximately five minutes, I yelled out.
“Cease fire! Cease fire! Only shoot if you have a good target, don’t waste ammo!”
“Look,” Josue said, pointing at a dozen or so who had broken off the attack and were fleeing toward the woods. I caught Fred’s attention and grinned before bringing up my M4 and picked off two.
Fred gave me the arched eyebrow, handed Josue his assault rifle, and drew his pistol. He took casual aim and picked off two more before the rest disappeared into the woods.
“Holy shit!” Jorge shouted. “Those fuckers were over a hundred yards away. That’s some awesome shooting, old man.”
Fred’s only response was to reload and holster his weapon.
I walked over to the side of the guard shack and pulled open the door. The small shack was full of zombies. Some of them were dead, others were chewing on one of the guards. A zombie was making a meal out of his face, but even so, I recognized him immediately. It was Paul. I took aim and shot them in the head. Including Paul. Jorge and Josue ran up and stood by me, guns at the ready.
“What’s up, man?” Jorge asked. I didn’t need to answer. One look inside and they understood.
“Cover me,” I said, leaned my rifle against the wall, and began dragging them out.
Some of them were still active; I would have said they were still alive, but who the hell knew what they were anymore. In any event, Jorge and Josue took turns putting bullets in their heads as I drug them out of the small confines of the shack. I drug out seven before I found the other guard.
It was Priss. She was still alive, a look of sheer terror on her face. She gazed at me when I’d dragged the zombie corpse off of her with one of those thousand yard stares.
“Priss,” I said. She continued staring and started to bring her rifle up. I stepped forward quickly and snatched it out of her hands. I looked back and handed it to Josue before focusing back on Priss.
“Priss, it’s me, Zach.”
It took her several seconds before responding. “Zach?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s me, Zach.”
I held a hand out. After a moment, she reached out and grabbed my hand. I helped her up and then began checking her for bites. She was covered in blood and zombie goo, but otherwise, I did not see any injuries.
“Zach?” she asked again.
I held her by her hands. “It’s okay, Priss, it’s okay.”
It took a moment, but then she saw her brother lying on the ground. A low, sorrowful moan erupted from her. I looked around, spotted Stretch, and motioned her over.
“Please do me a favor and take her to medical.”
Stretch looked her over. I could sense from the expression on her face she did not like Priss, but to her credit, she kept those feelings to herself and reached out, taking her hand.
“Come on, baby girl. Walk with me.”
As I watched Stretch lead Priss away, Josue walked up and held up her assault rifle.
“Empty,” he said and pointed at all of the cartridge casings lying on the floor of the guard shack. “She put up a hell of a fight.”
I looked over and saw another assault rifle lying on the floor. Thinking this one must have been Paul’s, I picked it up and inspected it. The magazine had seventeen rounds left in it and there was a stovepipe in the chamber. Frowning, I popped the back pin and broke it open. The weapon was hideously dirty. I cursed under my breath as I showed it to Jorge, Josue, and Fred.
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “Nobody is cleaning their weapons.”
Everyone had gathered around the carnage now. Some of them were even giving themselves high-fives and congratulating themselves.
“Listen up, everyone!” I shouted angrily. When I had their attention, I continued.
“This was Paul’s
weapon. It malfunctioned because it was filthy.” I looked around for emphasis.
“All of you know I didn’t like Paul, but Jesus, people, being eaten alive is no way to die. Clean your fucking weapons!”
Nobody said a word. No arguments, nothing. Fred gave me a micro.
“Coordinated attack,” Captain Fosswell said. I turned toward the voice. He was with his father, and both of them had M4s slung across their shoulders. Captain Fosswell was leading the reactionary squad during the attack, but I never saw the general. He must have had more important matters to attend to. The younger Fosswell hooked a thumb behind him.
“Post three and four were also attacked, but not as many. Good thing I was OD,” he said, looking expectantly at his father, who ignored him and stared at the slew of dead zombies.
There was an expression on Captain Fosswell’s face, and it took me a minute to understand. He was seeking his father’s approval. In that moment, I realized young Fosswell had spent his entire life seeking his father’s approval and had never quite succeeded in getting it.
“Not much different from the attack on the CDC,” Rachel said. I had not seen her at all during the attack, but I had no doubt she was in the thick of it. “The only difference is the numbers; the CDC was attacked by over fifty thousand.”
“Their numbers must be diminishing,” Captain Fosswell opined.
The general nodded thoughtfully and then looked at Rachel. “Do you think they followed you here from Fort Detrick?”
“It’s possible, sir. After the first day, we had intermittent contact with hordes. Most of the time, it was only like three to ten in a group. A couple of strays here and there, but nothing significant. We’d wondered where they went to.”
The general nodded again and then seemed to notice his son for the first time. “What are you doing, Captain?”
“Sir?” Captain Fosswell asked.
“Don’t just stand there with your head in the clouds, Captain. Get your reactionary squad together and conduct a recon of the perimeter. Make certain there are no breaches.”