Zombie Killers (Book 6): AMBUSH (Irregular Scout Team One)

by John F. Holmes

  Chapter 230

  The guards at the gate, more Air Force, this time heavily armed Security Police, waved us through, and we took a left towards a large hangar. I had been on the base several times before, and figured a hangar made a great place for a ceremony. Maybe they would have a tank or something parked in the open door to the runway, for photo ops.

  Inside, instead of the expected podium and rows of chairs, there was parked a Stryker AFV, with a remotely operated .50 caliber on top, and a complete squad of armed Security Police.

  “Oh, Shit,” I said. “I knew that bastard Epson would pay me back for punching the shit out of him.”

  Brit turned and looked at me, while reaching under her skirt. I put my hand on her wrist in an iron grip and made no move to touch the 9mm holstered under my jacket. Likewise, Red sat stone still. “Be cool, honey. The President has no issue with you or Red. I’m pretty sure he just wants to throw me in jail.”

  The Air Force Captain in the front seat turned around, while the Sergeant leveled a wicked looking machine pistol across the partition, an old school style MAC -10 with a suppressor. “Now, Colonel, no one has to get hurt here. We need to talk to you, your wife, and Sergeant Redshirt. Things are changing, and you all can play a very important role.”

  “Let me guess,” I said, a light going off in my head. I remembered Burns’ shouted words just before we hung him earlier this summer. “President Epson is cancelling the Emergency Orders and calling elections for Congress, and some people in the military aren’t happy about giving up Martial Law.”

  The look on his face told me that I had guessed right, the very first time. “It’s not a coup, if that’s what you’re thinking. We just need to convince the President to not lift Martial Law. This country needs military rule to be effective, and as soon as a new Congress is called, they are going to hamstring us.”

  “And what happens if he doesn’t?”

  “Then,” he said “someone who understands the situation better can lead. But we don’t have to talk about this right now. Come on outside with no trouble, and no one gets hurt.”

  Behind me I heard the slight CLICK of the hammer being drawn back on the .45 derringer Brit wore strapped to her leg under her dress, and I turned to look her in the eye. “Let’s talk to them, honey. You know I’m no fan of Epson. Maybe what they say has some value.” Even as I said this, I relaxed my grip on her wrist, feeling her tuck the small pistol away.

  The Captain smiled, a shit eating, devious grin, and said “We thought, based on your history with him, that you might be reasonable. Now, if you can just hand over your sidearms, Colonel and Sergeant, we can go outside and talk.”

  I did as he asked, pulling out my 9mm by the butt and handing it, not to him, but to the driver. He lowered the MAC 10 and reached his hand for it, and Brit shot him in the face. The round punched into his forehead, making his body flop backwards and the horn blare.

  The second shot was slower in coming. Brit held the gun up the Captains’ face, and the car suddenly smelled like, in addition to gun smoke, piss. He gaped, wide eyed. I bet he had never seen real gun play in his life, and was some kind of staff officer, playing games that had no risk to him. Wrong deal, you piece of shit. “TRAITOR!” she hissed and pulled the trigger, shooting him through the bridge of his nose.

  A split second later, the windshield shattered and the front hood leapt upwards, as half inch wide slugs devoured the front end of the limo. The Stryker had only fired a short burst, but it had instantly put the limo out of action. The side door was yanked open and a small cylindrical object flew inside. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and covered my ears, but the flashbang, inside the confines of the limo, was devastating on our senses.

  Through I couldn’t see anything, and my ears were ringing, I felt rough hands grab me and pull me from the car, slamming me to the concrete floor. I was quickly zip tied and blindfolded, then lifted by my arms and legs and carried over to another vehicle, my ears still ringing. I was roughly thrown inside, and I heard a grunt as Brit landed beside me, followed by Red landing on my legs. The back ramp of the Stryker whined upwards and cut out what little light I could see through the blindfold. The engine started up and we rolled out of the hanger.

  Chapter 231

  “See!” said Red. “I told you!”

  “We’re up shit’s creek and you’re making jokes,” he replied.

  Truth was, we were up shit’s creek. Our captors had flown us by helo about an hour or so, unloaded us into a room, and slammed the door shut behind them, leaving us blindfolded and zip tied. And I had to piss. Really bad.

  “So what do we do now, oh fearless leader?” asked Brit.

  “Well, for one, maybe not shoot anyone right away, play along until we’re in a better position.”

  She actually laughed. “That shithead had it coming. Did you see the look on his face? And he pissed his pants. Besides, you would have done the same thing, but even faster. You hate people shitting on your beloved Constitution.”

  “That’s true,” I answered, and honestly, it was. “But never mind that, I gotta piss.”

  “You’re gonna have to hold it, or you’ll ruin your dress uniform.”

  “Well,” I answered her “seeing as how you like the D so much, maybe you could crawl over here and pull down my zipper and whip it out for me so I can piss.”

  Red chimed in with “Get a room, you two.”

  The truth is, we were talking smack to cover the tension. In a coup like this, the first thing they do is shoot the old regime, and call it what they wanted, it was an old fashioned, third world military take over. It had been more than two years since the second Apocalypse, and President Epson had let it be known that he wanted the civilian government to start handling things within the temporary borders of the US. Which consisted, primarily, of New York,, Vermont, parts of Massachusetts, Providence Naval Base, northern Pennsylvania, some of Ohio and parts of New Jersey. Not much, but we were holding on and even advancing. Obviously, some people in the military weren’t happy about it.

  The door opened, a body was thrown in, and then slammed closed again. I heard someone cursing, and recognized the gravelly voice.

  “General Scarletti, is that you?” I asked.

  “Who the hell do you THINK it is, Agostine, you knucklehead. Is the rest of your band of merry killers in here with you?” I guess he was blindfolded too.

  “Just Brit and Red. Jimmy Bognaski is back home in Stillwater and Cappochi is out west on a scout.”

  “Good” he muttered “I can’t stand that smartass Pollack anyway.”

  He was silent for a minute, then said “I guess you know what’s going on, then?”

  “Military coup,” I answered. “I’m surprised they got you, though not surprised you’re not involved.”

  “My J-2 had a hint of it, but the bastards moved up their timetable. A certain faction in the Air Force has been hiring freelancers from out in the Dead Zones and flying them in for the last week. We thought they were going to hit us next week, and I’ve been moving units around to compensate. Even though they jumped the gun, I’ve got heavy armor out at Seneca that should be on its way here now, and a QRF of Rangers staged out of Fort Drum. Unfortunately, I think they have the President.”

  “What makes you think that?” asked Brit.

  “Because” the general said “I was with him when our convoy got hit. RPG through the front vehicle, Explosive Force Penetrator through our engine block. I was knocked out by the concussion; I just came too on the way here.”

  “That’s not good,” said Brit.

  “I can see you keep her around for her brains, Agostine,” he said, and Red snickered. “So, Colonel, what’s your plan for getting us out of here?”

  “Honestly, General, I have no idea. Like you, I have a blindfold on, I’m zip tied, and I have to piss really bad.”

  Any further conversation was cut short by the door opening again, and some lights coming on. I was hauled to my feet
, none to gently, and someone used a knife to cut the zip ties holding my legs together. Then I was sat roughly down in a chair, and the blindfold ripped from my face.

  In front of me sat an Air Force Brigadier General. He was one of the those guys who looked like he was pissed off that he hadn’t been good enough to be a fighter pilot, and it left a sour mark on his life. He stared at me steadily, even offered me a cigarette. I shook my head and looked around.

  There were three armed men in the room all wearing motley camouflage from ten different types of uniforms. Each carried an AK-74 and had a black ski mask hiding their features. The hired help, I guessed. Brit, Red and Scarletti each sat in a chair up against the wall, hands and feet zip tied to their chairs.

  “Colonel Agostine” said the officer in front of me.

  “I prefer Sergeant Major. Colonel is only a brevet rank anyway.”

  He sighed, as if this was just too much trouble for him. “Sergeant Major, then. I’m sure you’ve figured out what’s going on here.”

  “Yeah, your flunky told us just before Brit popped him. A coup. Military takeover.”

  “Hardly,” he said “since the military is already in charge of the country. We just want to keep it that way. The President is, shall we say, being too hasty?”

  “Listen,” he continued “you’ve been out there, You know how fragile the country is right now. We’re down to, what, three million people now?”

  “About that,” I answered.

  “And Epson thinks that he can just call elections and hand things back to Congress, who you and I know BOTH know will fuck it up?”

  “Well, that IS his job. You know, under the Constitution. Civilian rule was to be restored as soon as possible.”

  The General grunted, almost in agreement. “That’s true. But not right now.”

  “Well, what the hell do you want from us then? I’m just a grunt.”

  He laughed and said “Hardly. You’re famous. The men and women of Irregular Scout Team One, blazing the path to retake America. What I want is a video of you exhorting people to stay calm and calling for the elections to be postponed, based on your experience on the ground.”

  I pretended to think about it for a minute, then said “And what’s in it for me? For us?”

  He sat back down and made a steeple out of his fingers. “Well, for starters, you can have whatever land you want. Hell, you can be governor of New York. Shit, we’ll give you a deserted tropical island to build a resort home on. I bet Ms. O’Neil there looks pretty good in a bikini.”

  “Or?” I asked.

  “Or one of my men splatters Ms. O’Neil’s’ pretty red head all over the wall.” At that one, of the men closest to us stepped forward and ripped off Brit’s blindfold, then aimed the barrel of his assault rifle at her. He bright blue eye contrasted sharply to the milky grey one that Doctor Morano had damaged all those years ago.

  “Nick, just give the man what he wants. What the hell do we care about this crap?”

  “I think you should listen to your wife, Sergeant Major. One video statement, and the three of you will be free to go.”

  “Three?” I asked. “What about Scarletti?”

  “He gets a trial, after which I’m sure he’ll be shot.”

  Brit had been looking around the room, and her gaze fell on one of the mercenaries who I had ignored. I saw her looking at him and looked myself, then looked back, uninterested, and continued to speak to the Brigadier, trying to buy us some more time to thinking of something. I stopped when I heard Brit speak behind me. Her words made me instantly freeze in place.

  “Te glup svinja, biti te pravedan lijeganje stajanje onde?”

  Chapter 232

  The man she had spoken to let out a long, exaggerated breath of air, shrugged, raised his rifle to his shoulder and put a three round burst into the one furthest from him. The first round hammered the mercenaries’ chest plate, and the next two rounds went through his throat and his face, sending blood and brains to splatter against the wall. The second gunman started to raise his rifle, but he didn’t stand a chance. He had barely started to move when two rounds punched into his stomach, and he fell to the floor screaming. Another shot to his head cut the screams off abruptly. The gunshots were incredibly loud in the confined room, causing the Brigadier to leap to his feet and try to pull out a holstered pistol. Before he could open the flap on the holster, the wooden butt stock of the shooter’s AK crashed into his forehead, and he went down like a cow at a slaughter house.

  Exchanging his partially emptied magazine for another, the gunman finally reached up and pulled off the black ski mask covering his face to reveal … Sasha Zivcovic.

  “ZIV!” I shouted. “Holy shit, what the fuck are you doing here?”

  He pulled out his long combat knife and started cutting at the zip ties that bound Brit, then Red. “I am again your ass saving,” he said, quickly releasing me. He stopped where General Scarletti sat patiently fold, placing the knife up under Scarletti’s neck.

  “You. You are the devil, I think. I should cut your throat right here.” Ziv held it steady, but put just enough pressure to draw a drop of blood. To his credit, Scarletti didn’t move at all when he spoke.

  “Go ahead, you cold hearted son of a bitch. I know what you’ve been up to in Kansas. Should have sent a Delta team after you months ago.”

  Ziv laughed and sheathed his knife, saying “And I would have sent you back their heads.” I noticed, though, that he didn’t cut Scarletti loose. Red did, and helped the General to his feet.

  Brit came over and gave Ziv a huge hug. “Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you! How is Diana? She must be getting so big? When is she due? August, right?”

  What the hell? Last I knew, we had left Ziv in Kansas after our long fight with the undead horde outside Smallville. As far as I knew, no one had ever heard from him, and here was Brit, obviously in regular touch with him or his woman, a former US Air Force C-130 pilot.

  “She is big as house, and bitch bitch bitch all the time. I take this job more to get away from her than for the money, but money was pretty good, too. Pure gold, up front.”

  “Hey!” I said. “Can we cut the happy reunion, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do? There’s a coup going on that we have to stop.” I picked up one of the AK’s and started taking the rig off one of the dead mercenaries, first removing my uniform jacket and draping it over a chair. Red was doing the same.

  “Colonel Agostine, I think the priority is to get me back to Fort Drum, where I can take control of the response forces.” As Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Scarletti had command of all Naval and Ground Forces. As to whether the Air Force was going to play ball, well, I think we might have to beat some information out of the unconscious Brigadier, if Ziv hadn’t cracked his skull.

  “”You heard the man. Ziv, are you with us?”

  He appeared to think about it for a minute, then said, “Double what they were paying me, and I will help.”

  Well, at least he was honest. “Done. How can we get out of here? What forces are outside? Where, exactly, are we?”

  “A small utility building on west side of base. Outside is one Stryker and four men, one Air Force and the rest mercenaries like me. Very tough men.”

  “Is the Stryker manned? What about the gunshots?”

  Ziv pondered a bit, then said “He had orders to execute you if you would not cooperate. Outside they will think that we have shot two of you to make the others work with us. So, we should still have surprise. Yes. There might be someone in Stryker”

  “At what point were you going to stop them?” asked Red.

  “I wasn’t,” said Ziv. “The money was very, very good.”

  Brit spoke up. “I know why you did. Because your woman would make your life hell.”

  Laughing, Ziv said “That is why I saved you, yes. No money is worth getting shit from Diana. She is more demon than you.”

  I wasn’t sure that Ziv was serious. For all I knew, he w
as.

  Chapter 233

  I don’t like gunfights. The thing is, you stand a good chance of getting shot, and if you don’t get killed, people you care about are right there next to you, running the same risk. It’s exciting, thrilling, but also scary as shit. So anything that gives an advantage should be used.

  “OK, here’s the plan. Ziv, grab the Brigadier and drag him out the door, tell them he was wounded. As soon as they lower their weapons to help you, run for the Stryker. The ramp is down, right?”

  Ziv nodded and I continued. “Take out whoever is in there, We’ll be right behind you. From left to right, Red, Brit, Me, each of us will engage a man in the same order. We go out shooting and don’t stop until your man is down on the ground. General, you come out when we give the all clear. Everyone got it?”

  They all nodded. It felt good to be working as a team again. The four of us had assaulted so many buildings, been in so many fights, killed so many undead, it felt more natural than anything I had experienced in quite a while.

  Ziv slung the Brigadier over his back, keeping one hand free with his palm resting on his knife. I stepped up behind him, but not close. He needed to get out and get past the men outside, and I needed to give him a few seconds to do so. I felt Brit’s hand on my shoulder, indicating that she was ready.

  Like all plans, it didn’t survive contact with the enemy. Just as Ziv reached for the door handle, it was pulled open from the outside, to reveal the masked face of one of the mercenaries. He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger just as Ziv hurled the Brigadier at him. The burst ripped through the unconscious officer, hurling him to the floor, but not before he collided with the gunman, and they both fell in a tangle, blocking the doorway. Ziv drew his knife and hammered downward on the man’s neck, nearly severing it on the backstroke. Blood splattered all over me as he leapt over the two bodies and out into the dazzling sunlight.