The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  I led my group to the north fire-stairs and unlocked the door. We crept down the stairwell until we reached the bottom floor. I slowly unlocked the door and peeked through. I didn’t see anyone on guard. I motioned for everyone to stay low and crab-walked to the door that led to the bunk area. Then I carefully peeked in through the window. I could see four officers asleep in bunks and three others playing cards around a table in the center of the room. That left three unaccounted for.

  The ones playing cards had their duty weapons on, but no one had a rifle close by. That was good news for us. Keying open the door, I opened it very slowly. I held up three fingers and mouthed “on three” to the others. They nodded and got ready. I counted to three with my fingers up and on three I stood up and rushed into the room, yelling.

  “Get on the ground!”

  We moved in a standard tactical entry pattern and fanned out. One of the SPD officers went for his gun and Bowman shot him twice in the chest. The Spud went down in a heap, gasping for air from the impact to his vest. Bowman must have known he was wearing a vest and didn’t want to kill him. At least that’s what I told myself.

  Southard’s team emerged from the other stairwell, and in seconds we’d secured the room. The officers that had been sleeping were taken without a shot being fired. In moments, they were all in cuffs and seated on the floor in the middle of the room. I did a quick headcount, but didn’t see Wright.

  “Where’s Wright?” I asked, looking at Southard.

  “Right behind you, Grant,” I heard her say.

  I spun around and dropped to one knee, drawing the big Colt. I heard the bullet whiz by just above my head and saw Wright emerging from the shower area at the back of the pod. She was wearing a t-shirt and her uniform pants with her Glock in both hands. Before she could adjust her aim and shoot again, I fired the big Colt.

  My aim was good and the bullet impacted with her left shoulder. She spun around in a complete circle before hitting the floor, but managed to keep a grip on her gun. She tried to roll over with the pistol now gripped tightly in her right hand.

  “Drop the weapon,” I instructed, “it’s over.”

  “Never,” she hissed, through hate-clenched teeth.

  “Don’t do it,” I yelled as she struggled to bring up her pistol.

  I hesitated a moment as she began to aim at me, once more. I didn’t wait for her to shoot, though. I might not have wanted to kill her, but I wasn’t about to let her kill me. My next round struck her in the forehead and she crumpled to the floor. Crimson gore dripped from the wall behind her.

  “Clear,” I whispered, without lowering the pistol.

  I remained motionless for a long moment before Southard came over and touched me on the shoulder.

  “It’s alright, Wylie,” he said. “She’s dead.”

  This time, the shakes didn’t come.

  Chapter Nine

  The Damage is Done

  “You never really know your friends from your enemies until the ice breaks”

  - Eskimo Proverb

  We locked the officers that had been part of Wright’s coup, in the very same cells they’d locked our people in. Two of the SPD officers offered to work with us, but I knew there was no way we could trust them now. We locked them in the Seg cells until we decided what to do with them. But right now, our first priority had to be re-securing the jail. We had to start by clearing out the zombies, sealing the entrances, retaking the vehicle sally port and closing that gate.

  While we prepared, I learned a great deal about what had happened in my absence. Wright had taken over almost immediately. In the process, we’d lost several good people. Among those killed were Marty Cooper, Larry the EMT, Greg Martinson and Jeff Burton. Martinson was from C-shift and Burton was one of the patrol officers we rescued from the convenience store. They were all friends of mine that were taken away from us by the actions of one greedy, arrogant little bitch that couldn’t stand taking orders from a CO.

  Spec-4 walked over to me carrying a bag of confiscated guns and equipment. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t happy. One look at the bag and I could see why. The range bag had Wright’s uniform shirt through the straps. She’d stuck three CO badge patches to the side of it like a gruesome trophy. I swore under my breath and ripped the patches off of the bag.

  “Yeah, that’s how I felt, too,” said Spec-4.

  Those patches belonged to my friends. She had either killed them herself, or was responsible for their deaths. Then she displayed their badges like medals. I wanted to scream, to curse and to shoot her all over again, but I calmed myself down. She would be getting hers, in the halls for the dishonored dead.

  “Rot in Hel,” I muttered.

  “I’m sure she will,” agreed Spec-4.

  Wright had taken the sheriff’s badge as her own, and I gladly returned it to Sheriff Daniels. He’d been shot in the fight, but was doing fine. Medical had removed a bullet from his left thigh and one from his right shoulder. He was a tough old bastard. He’d be out of the action for a while, though.

  We spent the next few hours retaking the building from the dead. With the front of the building re-secured, we had access to the food and Officer’s break room. We even managed to fire the generator back up, since we now had operational control restored. I heard cheers come from upstairs when the lights came back on.

  I put crews to work getting the kitchen back in order and preparing a meal for all of us. I figured a hot meal and lights would do wonders for morale. Turns out, I was right on all counts. Everyone was much more at ease with a warm meal under their belts. Southard returned with his crew. They’d gone to the Patrol side and fortified that entrance.

  “How’s it look?” I asked, as he walked up.

  “Well, it won’t win any beauty contests, but it should hold. Well, so long as we don’t have a few hundred zombies pushing against it at the same time.”

  “Unlikely,” said Spec-4. “Working together doesn’t seem to be in their repertoire.”

  “Good,” I said, “maybe we can concentrate on other things now. Like retaking the vehicle sally port, for one.”

  “Yeah, I was going to say that,” said Southard. “The Humvees are out there and the trailers we brought with us loaded with equipment were never unloaded.”

  “We really do need to secure it, then,” I said. “We need that gear.”

  “What’s the plan?” asked Spec-4.

  “I think we should put a few people on the roof,” I said. “They can cover us while we clear the Sally Port.”

  “What about the gate?” asked Southard.

  “One of us will make a bee-line for the car we attached to the gate and get inside. Once they do that, they close the gate. The rest of us will be on mop-up detail. We’ll have to clear the sally port of the dead.”

  “Sally Port of the Dead,” chuckled Southard. “Sounds like a crappy movie title.”

  “It is,” I replied, grinning. “You’re starring in it.”

  “What about me?” asked Sanders.

  “You’re comic relief,” said Southard.

  “Ok, guys,” I interrupted. “Let’s clear the sally port before you two cast your movie.”

  We all headed towards the Release area and started gathering weapons. I retrieved my Keltec shotgun and reloaded it with the Winchester Supreme Elite’s. Then I loaded out my M-4. Everyone else followed suit and soon we were all geared up and ready. I sent John Banner, Shane, Sanders, Bowman and Halsey to the roof to provide cover fire. I made sure Sanders went with them because his arm still wasn’t fully healed. I didn’t want to risk him tearing open his wound and being right back to square one.

  That left me, Spec-4, Southard, Matthews and Webber geared up and standing ready by the Release door. We’d all helped ourselves to the riot gear. We were all wearing black body armor over the outside of our BDU’s. The word “Sheriff” was emblazoned across the chest and back. We were also all wearing elbow pads, knee pads, armored tactical g
loves and black helmets. With the generators back online, we’d recharged all the radios. We were all now wearing fully charged radios with lip mikes that we’d confiscated from the patrol gear.

  “Listen up boys and girls,” I said, “here’s the plan. We go out by the numbers and cut the pie. I’m left flank, Spec-4 is next, then Southard, Webber and Matthews on right flank. Once we clear a path, I want Matthews to break off and head for the gate.”

  I glanced around and got a quick succession of nods. Everyone glanced at one another and lined up in order, with me closest to the door. Then we did another weapons check to make sure everything was locked and loaded. Once I was satisfied, I held up my closed fist. Spec-4 tapped me on the back of the helmet to let me know she was ready. I knew the others were doing the same behind her.

  “All units, radio check,” I said into my lip-mic.

  “Spec-4, check,” she said.

  I couldn’t help but to grin and give her a smile over my shoulder. She returned the smile with a wink and mimed a kiss at me.

  “Southard, check.”

  “Webber, check.”

  “Matthews, check.”

  “Sanders, here. Let’s fucking go already.”

  The rest checked in, but I barely heard them. I was too busy chuckling at Sanders. Despite being wounded, he was still chomping at the bit to get into the action.

  “700,” I said, “We are ready to begin.”

  “700, clear,” was the reply. “Good hunting. We will monitor your progress on camera.”

  They cycled the inner door and we hit the vestibule. Spec-4 shut the door behind us. I closed my eyes, briefly as the door locked behind me. Once again, I quietly said the soldier’s prayer.

  “I am going to war, leaving loved ones behind. I am leaving what is precious, but I´m not going alone. The Gods are with me, in all the dark places.”

  “Amen,” said Spec-4, patting my shoulder.

  I opened my eyes, in surprise. I’d forgotten how sensitive the lip-mic could be. Before I could say anything else, Master Control cycled the outer door and the time for reflection was gone. I shoved the door open with all my strength. It was a heavy steel door, but I was anticipating zombies on the other side. I knocked one Shambler aside and shot it in the head as I cut to the left. Then, the world seemed to slow down as my perception focused entirely on the fighting.

  We deployed tactically and started cutting the pie. I could hear weapons fire from above us and knew the roof crew was taking out their targets. There were more zombies in the sally port than I had anticipated. There had to be close to sixty of them. Over near the gate, a Shrieker let fly with an ear-piercing scream. I couldn’t turn to deal with it, since it was outside my section of the pie. I had to trust one of the others to deal with it. Seconds later, the scream ended abruptly. I grinned, but focused on clearing my piece of the pie.

  When my bolt locked back, there were too many zombies around me to change magazines. I let the M-4 fall to my chest by the tactical strap and transitioned to my Berretta. Three more headshots and I had some breathing room.

  “Changing mags,” I heard Spec-4 yell.

  I adjusted my field of fire to cover her while she changed out. I had to kick one Crawler in the face to knock it away from me before it had the chance to bite a chunk out of my leg. One quick snap-shot and the Crawler stopped moving. I stole a glance at Spec-4 in time to see a pair of Sprinters take Webber to the ground. Our tactical formation was about to go to shit.

  I shot the nearest zombie that was on Webber, but I couldn’t get a clear shot at the second. I felt hands grab me from behind and I swung back with the armored elbow pad and struck a Shambler in the face with enough force to knock most of its teeth out and send it flying over backwards. I had to turn and shoot four more that were nearly on top of me, taking my attention off of Webber.

  Erich Webber was one of my field training officers when I was a rookie. He was one of the finest officers I ever knew and I could do nothing for him. I wanted to scream. When the slide locked back on the Beretta, I dropped the magazine in one quick motion and slammed a fresh one into the butt of the pistol. I released the slide and chambered a fresh round. Start to finish, it was less than four seconds.

  Two more shots, and my immediate area was clear. I turned to help Webber when I saw the big man stand up holding the zombie by the throat. It was clawing at his face, but couldn’t do any damage due to the face shield on the riot helmet. Webber didn’t look hurt, but he did look pissed off. He held the zombie off of the ground with one hand. His M-4 was hanging around his neck, but he didn’t reach for it. I heard a creaking sound as tactical glove tightened on zombie throat, followed by a cracking sound.

  Webber had just broken the thing’s neck. He threw it to the ground where it could only flop around, unable to control its limbs enough to rise again. With a huge right foot, Webber stomped the face of the flopping zombie. With a sickening, wet crunch, it stopped moving.

  “Holy shit,” said Southard, awe in his voice. "You just broke its fucking neck."

  I came to my senses and looked around. The immediate area was clear. Now was our best opportunity.

  “Matthews, go!” I shouted.

  Without hesitation, he took off running towards the vehicle/gate. Officers on the roof immediately adjusted their fire and my team followed him, clearing the path. Matthews made it to the SPD cruiser turned gate and dove in. We continued to pour on the fire as Matthews frantically tried to start the car. He turned the ignition and nothing happened. The battery was dead.

  “Put it in neutral,” bellowed Webber.

  Webber headed for the back of the cruiser. I nodded at Southard and he took off with him. Spec-4 and I continued to provide cover fire, but I could tell we were fighting a losing battle. More and more zombies were coming through the unsecured gate. I turned to Spec-4 and got her attention.

  “Get inside that Humvee and get on the SAW[4]!”

  “On it,” she replied, and took off.

  I took the opportunity to reload my M-4 and headed for the gate.

  “Grant,” said the voice of Lt. Murdock, “Be advised, there is a large number of dead coming towards the back gate from the front of the building. You have about two minutes before they get there.”

  “Copy,” I replied. “Webber, now would be a good time!”

  Webber walked up to the back of the cruiser and let go of his rifle. Then he put his hands on the trunk and leaned into the vehicle. The weight of the car plus the weight of the gate had to be enormous. I could see Webber strain and let out a roar like a grizzly bear. Then the car began to move forward, slowly.

  “Cover or push?” asked Southard.

  “Push!” I shouted.

  Southard dropped his weapon to dangle around his neck, turned and put his back against the car. The two of them were pushing as hard as they could. I flipped my selector switch to full-auto and cut loose on the crowd of zombies that were coming through the gate. Just as my weapon ceased chattering, the SAW came to life behind me. Spec-4 was in the turret.

  I yanked the magazine from the M-4 and went to shove another in when I noticed that the last magazine wasn’t empty. There was a round lodged in the extractor. That could not have come at a worse time.

  Cursing in Gaelic, I dropped the weapon and grabbed the Keltec Shotgun I had strapped to the side of my pack. I had no more than brought it to my shoulder when the SAW fell silent. I shot a glance at Spec-4 as she was frantically trying to change the belt. I had to buy us all some time. Without hesitation, I headed for the gate. I was going to have to draw a line in the sand, so to speak.

  The cruiser/gate was creeping steadily forward, but I didn’t think they were going to close it in time to prevent the next wave from getting inside. I had to slow them down. With a deep sigh, I stepped through the gate and turned to look along the fence towards the front of the jail. I could see close to a hundred zombies coming our way, drawn by the sound of gunfire.

  “Roof team,”
I screamed into the radio. “Shift your targets to the north side of the building. Say again, the north side of the building!”

  “Copy,” said a voice I thought was Sanders.

  Seconds later, a barrage of fire erupted from the top of the jail and rained down on the crowd of zombies coming towards me. I took the opportunity to start dragging zombie bodies out of the way of the gate to make it easier for Webber and Southard to close. I was dragging my third body when I heard Spec-4’s voice break the com.

  “Wylie!” she screamed. “Get down!”

  I dove to the side, behind the outer edge of the gate and I immediately heard the SAW kick back into full automatic. I glanced back and saw nearly a dozen Shamblers that were almost on top of me. I was on my back with my shotgun trapped beneath me. I frantically pulled it free as four zombies escaped the fusillade and bore down on me. I fired point blank and blasted a hole in the chest of the nearest one. I could see light through the hole. It fell over backwards, but started trying to get up. I worked the pump on the shotgun and got ready to fire, when another weapon erupted behind me.

  The zombie that was nearly on top of me suddenly was missing its head. It fell in a heap, across my legs, pinning me to the ground. Two more big booms took out the remaining two. I craned my head around to see who had just saved my life, hoping it wouldn’t be someone worse than the zombies. I saw a red Ford pick-up braking to a stop, just a few feet away. Inside it were two very familiar faces.

  “Looks like the Marines had to save your Army ass,” said Gunny, leaning out the window of the truck.