The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  We cleared out all of the guns, ammo, knives and survival gear. We also took all of the leather jackets, t-shirts and tools we could load up. By the time the alarm stopped sounding, we were loaded up almost to capacity. The only thing we left was the electronics and the assorted junk that we wouldn’t need. Now, if the Freemen came to loot this place, the only thing they’d find were car stereos, televisions and DVD players. They were welcome to them.

  The bus was a little sluggish as I backed it out into the street. Two Sprinters came running out after us as I put it in gear and started moving forward. They made a satisfying crunch as I clipped them with the bumper. I gazed at the spot where my friends had fallen, now only a burnt spot on the road, and felt remorse for my friends. They died to give the rest of us a shot at survival. I was going to see that they didn’t die in vain.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Reunion

  “Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.”

  - Winston Churchill

  We made it back to the Underground with no problems. Erich Webber was at the gate when we pulled up. I could tell he was shocked to see us alive and with other survivors. It seemed like he couldn’t get the gate open fast enough, though. Once we were safely inside, I stepped out of the bus and started to shake his hand. He bypassed the handshake and lifted me up off the ground, gear and all. I thought he was going to break my ribs when he hugged me.

  “We all thought you were dead,” he said, smiling. “Did anyone else make it?”

  “Just me and Spec-4,” I said, sadly.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive,” I replied, holding out the bloodstained sheriff’s badge for him to see.

  He just closed his eyes and nodded.

  Once we cleared the gate and rolled back down into the Underground, I could see that they had accomplished a lot since I was here last. The lights were on and the place was lit up. They had reinforced the fences with overturned semi trailers. I could even see that they had set up roving patrols around the perimeter, checking for breaches in the fence and watching for threats. Matthews had done well.

  After a brief reunion with my family and the dogs, I had a quiet word with my wife and told her about the kids. I could see Karen’s heart melting as I told her about them being the only survivors of their class. I knew they would be in good hands, as she led them away to get them checked out by Medical. My sons lingered behind. I had a feeling I knew what they were going to ask.

  “Mom says we have to clear it with you before we start helping out on guard duty,” said Elliott, my oldest.

  “You mean she didn’t think I was dead?” I asked, surprised.

  “Nope,” said Erik. “She said that you’d come dragging in, in a day or two, with a couple new scars and some stories to tell. She called you a bad penny.”

  “Yeah,” I said, grinning. “That sounds like your mother.”

  “Mom told us not to give up on you,” said Evan. “That you made it back from the lake, against all odds.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “I’m glad you guys weren’t mourning me down here.”

  “Don’t let them fool you, dad,” said Elliott. “She was worried. We all were.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hugging them all. “I’ll tell you what. Let me find out how things are looking down here and we’ll see about letting you guys help out. I know you already know how to shoot. After all, I taught you.”

  “Thanks, dad,” they said, in unison.

  I headed off to find Matthews and Josh Kidman. I didn’t have to look far. I knew right where to find them. They were at the Hive. I found them standing next to a Humvee with Southard, Jade, John and Lt. Murdock. They all looked up as Spec-4 and I approached.

  “Wylie,” said Southard, putting his arm around me, “you are one hard to kill son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Thanks, Chuck,” I said, smiling. “I’m not complaining.”

  “Us either,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “Welcome back, buddy.”

  I reached into my pocket and took out the Sheriff’s badge. With a glance down at the bloodstained surface, I tossed it to Lt. Murdock. He caught it with his good hand and glanced at it before speaking.

  “So he didn’t make it?” he said, quietly.

  “We lost Daniels, Shane, Milkman, Benson and Chandler,” I said, meeting everyone’s gaze. “Good men that we definitely needed.”

  “Not to mention a truckload of food and supplies,” said Matthews. “Those damned Freemen need to pay for what they did.”

  “They did,” I replied. “I didn’t see any of them escape.”

  “Good,” said Jade. “It serves them right.”

  “The big question is,” I said, “were they there scavenging the grocery store and we just happened by or were they waiting for us?”

  “I’m going to guess that they were waiting for us,” said Spec-4. “Why else would they bring RPG’s to raid a grocery store.”

  “I agree,” said Lt. Murdock. “I think they were raiding the grocery store as a bonus.”

  “They didn’t have enough vehicles to take away everything we were carrying,” I said, rubbing the back of my head.

  “I don’t think that was their goal,” said Jade. “It sounds to me like they were just planning on taking you out and picking the corpses at their leisure.”

  “How the fuck did they know where we were going to be?” asked Southard.

  “The radios,” I said, realization dawning on me. “We used to complain that every old lady in town with a scanner would listen to our radio traffic and call in to complain when they heard something they didn’t like. If they have a scanner, they could easily be listening in on our radios.”

  “Not the SINCGARS,” said Spec-4. “Those hop frequencies every few seconds. Plus, they’re encrypted.”

  “No such luck on the crappy old radios we have,” I said, tapping the mic on my chest.

  “Well, then,” said Lt. Murdock, “it sounds like we need to stop using them.”

  “We can use the SINCGARS so long as we’re in the vehicles,” I said. “We’ll need to find something we can use short range that they can’t pick up.”

  “With what we have on hand,” said Matthews, “we’re probably going to end up using tin cans and string.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Josh. “We’ve got the security radios in the Hive. They’re charged up and ready to use.”

  “They’re not encrypted,” said Matthews.

  “They don’t have to be,” said Josh, “they’ve only got a range of about half a mile. Unless they’re at the end of the driveway, they shouldn’t hear anything at all.”

  “How many do you have?” I asked.

  “About a dozen,” said Josh.

  “Fine,” I said, “we can put one with each team when we’re out. Small teams can have one for each person, if they need it.”

  Lt. Murdock walked over to me and handed me the Sheriff’s badge.

  “Take this,” he said. “Someone needs to carry it.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, looking down at the badge in my hand.

  “I ain’t taking it,” said Southard. “I think the damned thing’s cursed. Since this all started, the only person who’s carried it without dying is you.”

  “Gee, thanks Chuck,” I said, raising one eyebrow.

  “Hey, I’m just sayin’,” he replied, “better you than me, buddy.”

  “It doesn’t really matter whether we have a Sheriff or not,” I said. “There aren’t enough of us to call a department, anymore.”

  “It’s more than that, Wylie,” said Josh. “It’s a good symbol for people to rally behind. It’s something to unite all of us.”

  “You’re ok with this, Josh?” I asked, surprised.

  “Hey, I don’t want the job,” he said, smiling. “This group suddenly became too big for me to manage. I’m more of a logistics kind of gu
y.”

  “That’s where we need you, anyway,” I said. “You know this place better than anyone. You can keep track of our assets and expenditures. Make sure we don’t run out of anything. That also means you get to figure out what we need so we can start planning runs for it. Can you get us a current inventory?”

  “On it,” he said, heading off towards the Hive.

  “Hey, Josh,” I called after him.

  “Yeah?” he said, turning.

  “Can you charge this for me?” I asked, tossing him my flashlight.

  “No problem,” he replied. “I’ll get it back to you in a couple of hours.”

  We watched as he walked away towards the entrance. Once he was inside, I turned to Matthews.

  “Any issues since I’ve been gone?” I asked.

  “Not many,” he replied. “The three idiots he has working for him think they can tell us what to do. I’ve done my best to convince them otherwise.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m afraid that will come to a head, sooner or later.”

  “I’m sure it will,” he agreed.

  “In the meantime,” I said, “we’ll just work with what we have. We’ll ignore the three stooges, for now. I don’t want them in charge of any details, though. Not even walking perimeter security.”

  “No problem,” he said. “What about internal security?”

  “Yeah, that might work. Let’s go with that. Keep them inside where they can’t do much damage.”

  John Banner walked over and spread a map of the Underground out on the hood of the Humvee, using his radio on one corner to keep it from rolling up. I sat my hammer on another corner and we weighed the other two corners down with a knife and a pistol. Lt. Murdock illuminated the map with his flashlight.

  “OK,” said Banner pointing to the map. “We’ve verified that the entrances here and here are secure.”

  I noticed he was indicating the railroad entrance and the north entrance.

  “However, we’ve only been able to secure the ventilation shafts in sectors three and six.”

  “What’s the problem with the other four?” I asked, looking for the shafts on the map.

  “They’re outside the secure perimeter,” he replied. “The fence only extends around a portion of the actual excavated area. We’re going to have to take teams outside the fence to make sure they’re secure.”

  “Let’s make that a priority,” I said, finding them on the map.

  I immediately saw a problem. One of the shafts was in plain sight of US 65. I knew from experience that it was crawling with zombies. There would be no way that they could work on it without being seen. That would only serve to draw attention to the shaft that we were trying to protect. It was a catch twenty-two.

  “Is there any way to secure it from below?” I asked, glancing at the Lieutenant.

  “Maybe,” he said. “I assume you mean without sealing off the shaft completely.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’ll need those shafts intact to keep the air flow going.”

  “One thing on our side,” said John “is that the shafts are almost completely vertical. It would be a straight drop down into three different ventilator fans. If a zombie fell down it, they’d be turned to sushi.”

  “Or they could ruin the fan,” I said. “We’d have to assume that the fan would take some damage. Those damned things tend to go like lemmings. Enough of them falling into one would either clog or break the fans.”

  “I’ll get to work on the ventilator shaft problem,” said the LT. “I’ll get a few people together and we’ll put our heads together. I’ll let you know what we come up with.”

  “Sounds like a plan, sir,” I said. “Keep me posted.”

  He just nodded and headed off towards the Hive.

  “What about a schedule for perimeter checks?” asked John.

  “Why don’t you set that up for us,” I said. “No one goes alone and everyone carries a radio. Take a team and check the conex boxes in the Reserve area. If there are any radios, we can use those. If not, we’ll stick with the security radios in the Hive.”

  John just nodded and headed off towards the main parking lot. I noticed that he had an M-4 slung across his back, but held his bow in his hand. His moccasin boots made no noise as he moved. I also noticed that he’d added something to his ponytail. I wasn’t sure what it meant. It looked to be a feather and some beads. I’d have to ask him about it, later. That left Southard, Matthews, Jade, Spec-4 and me standing around the Humvee. I waited until I was certain that everyone else was out of earshot before continuing.

  “Alright,” I said, in a quieter tone. “We’ve got another issue to consider.”

  “What’s that?” asked Spec-4.

  “We need to be certain that we weren’t followed out here by the Freemen,” I said. “If they know about this place, we’re going to have trouble.”

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Matthews.

  “We take a couple of teams out and do a sweep of the outer perimeter,” I said. “Check outlying buildings in range of our radios. They might have posted people to listen to our radio traffic or to observe us.”

  “How likely is that?” asked Jade.

  “We know for a fact that they were monitoring us at the jail,” I said. “Not to mention the fact that they know which way our convoy was heading when they hit us. If they know the area at all, they can at least figure out the general area we went to if not the exact location.”

  “How many of them do you think there are?” asked Southard.

  “No way of knowing,” said Spec-4.

  “The last thing we need to do is to underestimate them,” I said. “We did that once and it cost us dearly.”

  Everyone just glanced at each other and nodded.

  “We’ve got two Humvees left,” I said. “We’ll break into two teams and check the outer perimeter. Stay clear of US 65. It’s crawling with zombies. There’s no way the Freemen would be able to come at us from there without getting overran. We’ll check the north side where the businesses are and the south side where all the houses are.”

  “How will we know if they’re in the area?” asked Jade.

  “The jingle-trucks,” said Spec-4.

  “The what?” said Matthews.

  “The hodge-podge cobbled together trucks they use,” I said. “They tend to take normal vehicles and bolt metal plates and spikes on them to use as armor.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Southard. “I remember the ones we saw when we rescued Jade.”

  “They might be good enough to stop a zombie,” said Jade, “but they didn’t do too well against small arms fire.”

  “That’s good to remember,” I said. “Take out the radiators and they’re boned. Same goes for tires and engines.”

  I glanced up just as Security Officer Chastain came running towards us. She’d used the radio call-sign “Packer”, and that’s what had stuck in my mind. She had come from the Hive and looked upset.

  “Grant,” she said, as she ran up. “The Sarge says there’s something going on topside that you might want to take a look at.”

  “Where?” I asked, tensing for action.

  “In the sky over the city,” she replied.

  We all piled into the Humvee. It was tight quarters, but it was the fastest way to the surface. I fired up the big diesel engine and headed for the ramp that led out the south entrance. Seconds later, I was braking to a halt behind the reinforced gate that now blocked the road. I could already see multiple aircraft in the air over the main part of town.

  We piled out of the Humvee and I grabbed my binoculars from my pack. I started scanning the aircraft to get a better look. Four looked to be fighter craft and one was a much larger cargo plane. It looked like a C-130. From the look of it, they had decided to forgo heavy bombing and were engaging specific targets. The big C-130 was banking and using its mini-guns. I could hear the growling roar and see flames from the muzzle as they strafed what I assumed to be large groups of zombi
es.

  “Get ‘em, boys,” I muttered.

  “They’re really pouring on the fire,” said Southard, shaking his head.

  When the first missile streaked into the air from a building top, it looked like the Fourth of July. Chaff and flairs erupted from the sides of the big C-130 as it leveled out of its turn and accelerated hard. The fighters banked around and began to pour on the fire into the area where the missile came from. I thought that the C-130 was going to take the hit, but at the last second the missile locked onto a flare and exploded in a huge fireball.

  “Yeah!” yelled Southard.

  Then a second missile streaked up from a different area, followed by a third. More flares erupted from the big plane, but this time we could tell that it wasn’t going to be enough. The pilot did his best, but the big plane was just too slow and hard to turn. One missile exploded just behind the portside engine cowling, shredding the wing and engine in the process. Fire leapt from the wing and smoke billowed from the crippled engine. The next missile took off a big chunk of the tail section. The big plane was doomed and was going down in flames.

  I could hear Spec-4 desperately working the controls on the SINCGARS until she found a station with garbled traffic. Suddenly it came in clearly and I could hear the fear in the voice of the pilot. He sounded young to me. Young or not, he was doing one hell of a job keeping the wounded aircraft in the air against all odds.

  “Vampire! Vampire!” he called into the radio. “Specter’s hit! Say again, Specter is hit! We are going in!”

  “Copy that Specter,” said a different voice. “Can you land, over?”

  “I’m pretty damned sure that’s going to happen, regardless,” he replied. “I’m trying to find a clear spot to put down.”

  “Good luck, Specter,” said the unknown voice. “You’re on your own.”

  “Yeah, screw you too,” said Specter.

  “Specter, this is Rogue 6,” said Spec-4. “Do you copy?”

  “Specter copies,” he replied. “Who the hell are you?”

  “National Guard,” she replied. “Can you change course west of your current position?”

  “I can try,” he replied.