The first thump took the riders in the cargo hold by surprise. “What was that?” demanded Anna.
“Road kill, ten points!” Dallas shouted over his shoulder. Thump! “It’s gettin’ thick up here, Boone.” Thump! Thump! He was forced to slow the truck some. “Hey, roll up your window, will ya pard?”
Androwski realized he had his elbow resting on the open truck window and he jerked it in, feeling foolish. He locked the door and rolled the window up. It was sweltering in the truck, and Dallas, reaching right, flicked on a small fan.
Boone struggled through his group to get to the cab. “Time to check in. Andy, switch with me so I can make a call.” Androwski got up and moved past Boone without a word. Boone sat in the passenger’s seat, put on his seatbelt, and pulled the comm-unit out of his ear letting it rest on his shoulder. He then reached for a second radio, switched it on, and began to transmit, “Rock, this is Wanderer, come in, over.”
Almost instantly there was a reply, “Wanderer, this is Rock, we read you five. SITREP, over.”
“Transport acquired, proceeding northwest to acquire superior transport. Moderate Lima presence, over.”
“Final coordinates to follow on next transmission. Be advised, new intel on Limas: Unconfirmed reports suggest some Limas are much faster than previously determined.”
Boone was confused. “Say again?”
“Repeat, some Limas reported running. Repeat, running.”
Dallas looked over at Boone. “Is that boy serious?”
Boone pointed in front of them. “Watch the road.”
Thump!
Dallas looked forward and steered slightly to the right.
Boone keyed the microphone again. “Unconfirmed?”
“Affirmative. Intel comes from the last group to arrive at base. Intel not confirmed by base personnel; however, many newcomers concur on Lima speed. Caution advised. SITREP required when first mission objective met, Rock out.”
Dallas smirked. “Caution advised? Does he think we’re out for a Sunday drive?”
“It is Sunday.” Boone pointed again. “The road.”
He keyed the mic again. “Copy that base, Wanderer out.”
Boone spun in his seat and looked over his shoulder. “Listen up people: Apparently the Limas have decided to put on some track shoes. Alcatraz has reports of some of them running now. I would say we need to be extra cautious, but that would be ridiculous under the circumstances. From this point forward, consider all Limas as fast as you are. Do not underestimate their speed, because we have no idea of their new capabilities.”
Nothing but stunned silence came from the cargo area of the truck, as the occupants exchanged worried glances that carried a new level of fear.
3
Eighteen corpses littered the area just outside a locked chain-link fence in front of a vehicle service depot. All of the corpses had severe head trauma. Three large garages and a hangar-like structure sat next to a large canopy, under which resided a row of gasoline and diesel pumps. All were inside the fence. Martinez was on his stomach on the roof of the appropriated parcel truck, scanning the area past the mil-dots of his weapon optics. There was no movement inside the fence, but he took out one more zombie that came into view across the street with a perfect head shot. He had dispatched the contingent of mobile deceased in under two minutes, and now his people were sneaking down a hill and making for the locked gates.
The SEAL Benotti had remained with him to provide tactical close-combat cover for Martinez as he removed threats. Benotti was on the roof of the vehicle with the sniper, and Anna and Chris were still inside its relative safety. He looked at his watch, 19:40. “Clear,” Martinez whispered into his comm-unit.
At once, the forward team started moving by twos to the gate. Even the civilians remained exceptionally quiet as they quickly removed a pair of bolt cutters from a pack and cut the heavy chain from the fence. Sliding the left side gate open slightly, they moved inside. Behind them, Stark wrapped the chain back around the two gate posts and zip tied the links together, securing the gate. It wouldn’t stop a human for long, nor a horde of creatures, but it would slow down any singular unwanted undead visitors as they lacked the capacity to reason out the chain.
Dallas and Rick moved forward together into the depot, taking positions behind a parked Ford F150. Their job was to cover the gate while the rest of Hammer Platoon Detachment Bravo searched for fuel for the vehicles they were there to appropriate.
The SEALs had spread out by twos and were attempting various tasks. Usher and Seyfert were checking out the two LAVs that were outside the hangar, Boone and Stark were quietly breaking in to the office in the first garage, Androwski and Cole were placing fuel cans next to fifty-five gallon drums marked with a diamond-shaped placard reading simply, UN1202.
Twenty minutes into the operation, Boone and Stark appeared from the second garage holding folders with yellow tags on them. Boone pinched his throat mic. “Recon is complete. To Dallas and Rick in thirty.” All six men showed up at the Ford in a few seconds. “Okay,” Boone began, “good news and bad news. Good news is that the service reports for the C-2 and the M indicate that the onboard electronics upgrades and drive train service was complete. Bad news is that the R,” Boone pointed toward the third garage, “had the boom removed and they were working on the front axles before the shit hit. We could fix it, but Actual tells us there is a significant Lima force nearby.”
Dallas raised his hand, and Boone raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
“What’s a C-2, and R, and M, and who the hell is Actual?”
Stark stepped forward and whispered to Dallas and Rick, “The letters are different types of LAV, and Actual is Commander McInerney. That will change when we get out of radio range, and then Boone will be Actual.”
“Oh. So how does Kevin know there are pus bags near us?”
Boone looked uncomfortable with the name Kevin being used in reference to his commanding officer. “Satellite feeds must still be up. Either someone is still manning them, or the orbits haven’t degraded enough to screw with the signal. How he knows isn’t really important. What he tells us is.” In the waning light of the day, he spread a map across the hood of the pickup and traced his finger across it diagonally. “This is our route, and we will get further instructions when we reach this control point.” Boone stabbed his finger at a nondescript point on the map. Looking at Usher and Seyfert, he pointed his chin at the military vehicles. “We have any issues with our rides?”
“Sir,” Seyfert began, “LAVs One and Two are fueled and ready. We have another sixty gallons of diesel for each rig, but we haven’t powered up yet. The ramps were down for the electronics upgrades, and we cleared both vehicles just to be safe, no evidence of hostiles.”
“Dammit, I wanted that boom. Okay, two LAVs will have to do. Rick and Dallas with—”
The SEALs each pressed fingers to their left ear as all the tactical radios came alive with Benotti’s voice. “Contact right fifty meters, closing on your position!”
Boone pressed his throat mic again. “How many?”
“Too many to count through the NVGs, dozens, maybe a hundred or more.”
“Well folks, it looks like our secret’s out, let’s load up and hope these things work. High squad, fall in on the gates ASAP, we’re bugging out.”
The parcel truck started three seconds later, the headlights piercing the dusk shadows. It sped to the rendezvous point, and Boone quit whispering, “Dallas and Rick in LAV One with Andy, Cole, and Ush. Chris can jump in with you when he gets here. Everybody else in LAV 2. Start ‘em up!”
The LAV One crew ran to their large, green vehicle and gained access via a ramp that was also the rear hatch. The inside of the vehicle was tight, although not tall enough to stand up in. It was still more spacious than the civilians would have believed. There were two padded benches opposite each other, with webbing behind each for storage. Underneath each white bench was a large storage locker, and up front were t
wo bucket seats. Two hatches, for use with an M252 mortar system on the ceiling, now allowed for egress from the transport compartment, and a single hatch up front allowed the driver to maneuver the rig with his head sticking out should he want. Panoramic windows, approximately ten inches high and tinted red, were the windscreen, but there was also a video monitor near the driver, one near the front passenger, and two more in the rear. A big smile came across Dallas’s face. “I’ll drive!” he blurted. “Like Hell,” Cole yelled as he made his way to the driver’s seat. “This is a military op, Texas, not a mud-fest, I’m the wheel man here.”
Dallas looked stunned, but acquiesced in silence and sat on one of the benches opposite Rick. “Oh shit that’s cold,” Usher chuckled, shaking his head as he passed the two civilians on the way to the passenger bucket seat. As Usher sat and buckled his seatbelt, Cole pushed a lever forward and turned a dial. A hum filled the steel monstrosity, and lights turned on throughout. Cole looked at Usher with a sideways half-smile, pressed a flashing yellow button and the beast came to life instantly with a throaty diesel roar. Cole yelled back to the civilians, “Cover the hatch until the high team gets here!”
Androwski showed up a few seconds later. He had cut the zip tie, removed the chain, and slid the front gates wide open. “It started! Damn, I was worried for a minute.”
“We are five by five baby!” Cole yelled from the front. “Waitin’ on the sniper crew and we is out!”
Outside LAV One, Boone and Stark had gained access to the second vehicle. It also powered up quickly. The parcel truck arrived, smashing down a few of the undead vanguard, and the four sniper crew abandoned the truck, running for the armored transports. The dead had also arrived in full force and were beginning to stagger through the open gate, arms outstretched.
Chris bolted for the back of the LAV and sprinted up the hatch door. “I’m in, close it!” he yelled, and Cole flicked a switch. The rear hatch began a slow ascent from the ground. The few seconds it took to close seemed like a lifetime, but the dead weren’t close enough to pose a threat.
Anna, Martinez, and Benotti reached LAV Two quickly gaining access, and Benotti smashed his hand on the yellow hatch button near the rear of the vehicle. The hatch didn’t budge. He hit it again with the same result, the dead were forty feet away and stumbling toward the open door, slow but steady. Benotti hammered the hatch button repeatedly, but it wouldn’t close.
“Close it for Christ’s sake!” screamed Anna.
“I’m trying! It won’t go! Sir, the fucking hatch won’t close!”
Boone got up and made his way to the open door, Benotti was now hammering on the button.
Boone pressed his throat mic. “Cole, our door won’t close!”
“Red and white striped handle above the yellow button, push it up then press the button!”
Benotti grabbed the handle and pushed up, then pressed the yellow button. Boone opened fire on the encroaching dead, carefully picking headshots using his night vision. The door began to close, but the dead had reached the ramp and were coming up. Boone switched to full auto and fired into the small crowd as the door pushed upward painfully slowly. Three zombies fell off the back but a fourth gained access and went straight at Boone, propelled forward by the rising door. The overweight, middle-aged dead thing struck him hard and they both went down in a heap, Boone’s MP5SD3 pinned against his chest. Benotti let go of the button to pull out his sidearm, but Anna got there first with her combat knife, thrusting it into the fat dead guy’s eye. The creature didn’t want to miss a late dinner because of a blade in its face, so it kept pressing the attack while Boone held it off. Anna wiggled the knife and thrust it deeper, and the thing collapsed on top of the SEAL, who frantically pushed it off. “Go, Stark!” he yelled.
LAV Two started to move forward, and Benotti returned to wildly pressing the yellow button on the bulkhead. Several undead arms that had been reaching in through the mostly closed rear door were amputated and fell to the deck of the LAV.
Boone sat up and nodded at Anna, who nodded back. “Cole, SITREP,” he said without taking his eyes off of her.
“Locked tight, sir. We have one from high team and five from depot team, and we’re ready to move.”
“Roger that. Follow us, out.”
“Copy, out.”
The two LAVs rumbled forward, crushing some undead in their path. Stark maneuvered LAV One through the gate and past the still running Fed-Ex truck, but Cole ran his side of the gate over, and it folded like cardboard under the weight of the heavy armored vehicle.
The dead gave chase, but were no match for the speed of the LAVs, and soon the depot and the small horde were lost to the darkness. The team travelled in silence for fifteen minutes or so, and they were well out of the town and into the surrounding hills when the commander called a halt.
Boone pointed at the blood smears from the severed arms and dead man, “It’s been all over the news that fluids from a Lima are infectious, so stay away from that crap as much as you can. Stark, Cole, can we stop? Do you see a significant Lima presence here? I want to get this poor dead bastard out of the LAV.”
“We’re good up here,” Stark yelled back, and Cole’s voice came over the radio: “LAV Two is secure behind. Recommend you power up your vid screens and check all four sides.”
“I dunno how to do that, Cole, instructions please?”
“Small panel to the right side of the driver should read Vid 1, hit the soft key. Passenger should have a four-way split screen for all cameras, same deal with the soft key. The two screens in back turn on just like a TV. Starboard views starboard, and port port.”
Boone sat on the bench, checking himself over while Anna and Martinez turned on the video monitors. A moment later, both sides of the vehicle were shown bathed in green on the screens.
“Port is clear,” Martinez told everyone.
Anna followed suit. “Yeah, there’s nobody on this side either.”
Stark peered into his driver’s monitor. “Clear to open, sir.”
Benotti pulled the lever down and pressed the button. Boone stood, as much as was possible in the confined space. “Try not to touch any of the fluids. Andy, grab him by the shirt, I’ll grab his pants.” The two SEALS lifted the re-killed man and brought him out into the deserted street. Anna noticed that they didn’t dump the unfortunate victim, but placed him gently to the side of the road. She and Martinez used their boots to kick the five severed arms out of the LAV. There was still quite a bit of thick, black blood on the door and floor of the vehicle, but they had no means to clean it.
Anna waved to the other LAV, but couldn’t see if they waved back as the headlights were in her face. She stood at the top of the ramp, just outside the cargo area, her MP5SD3 pointed at the ground when a piercing shriek almost made her piss herself. “Get back in!” she yelled to the two pall bearers.
Not needing any further encouragement, the two SEALs ran for the ramp at full sprint. Boone came in first, but Benotti stopped at the base of the incline, looking to his left into a dark field. He flipped his NVGs down over his eyes, and Boone was starting to tell him to get inside when Benotti was tackled from the rear, and thrown tumbling forward out of sight.
Guttural grunts and growls could be heard mixed with Benotti’s swearing as Boone and Martinez bounded from the LAV to see what was happening.
Boone couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a teenage girl beating the shit out of a US Navy SEAL. She was all fury, claws and teeth. She was whacking at him with one hand while he fought to keep her head and other arm restrained. She fought like a cornered tigress, all the while screaming and screaming. Martinez stepped forward, grabbed her by her backpack, and threw her to the side. She landed hard, but was up immediately. She scanned the three men in front of her, threw her head back and screamed long and loud. She decided Benotti was her enemy and she sprinted toward her original target, who was beginning to stand. He stood fully and met her as she came at him, grabbing her outstretched ar
m and flipping her over with a grace that belied how big he was. She ended up on her belly, with him atop her back, her left arm pinned behind her. She screamed again, but the SEAL put his knee on the back of her neck, effectively pinning her.
“How do ya like that, ya little bitch?”
“Stow that shit, sailor,” Boone said as he reached for a zip tie. Pulling a wide, white tie from his belt, he grabbed the flailing arm of the helpless girl and fastened it to her other arm. Then he did her legs at the ankles, and Benotti warily let go of her and stood.
She looked up at her captors and growled, struggling so hard against her bonds that small trickles of blood dripped down her arms. She couldn’t have been any older than seventeen or eighteen, but the rage she was displaying made the men back up a step. She was actually trying to get to them while she was cuffed, inching pathetically toward them while scraping her skin on the asphalt. Her eyes were blood red, and there was a very small semi-circular mark on her left arm.
Chris, Dallas, Androwski, and Rick showed up from LAV Two. Anna and Seyfert from Boone’s LAV. They all stood clustered around the prone girl, watching her.
“So now what?” demanded Dallas.
Benotti harrumphed, “Fuckin’ shoot her that’s what.”
Anna looked horrified. “But she’s not, dead. She’s not one of them!”
“How do you know she’s not dead? Bitch tried to kill me!”
Run (Book 2): The Crossing Page 2