“Which way?” called Spec-4, changing magazines.
I hesitated only a moment before determination won out over good sense.
“Keep going,” I said. “We’ve got to be close to the park. It’s got to be closer that way than going back the way we came.”
“You heard the man,” snapped the First Sergeant. “Grab your gear and move your rears.”
We headed out as fast as we could go. I took the point again, hoping I was right and not consigning us to death. We were making good progress in putting some distance between us. Either there weren’t any Sprinters in the group, or the mud was too thick for them to run in. The complete darkness might have a lot to do with it, as well.
We ran for about ten minutes and my lungs were on fire when I signaled to halt for a rest. I tried to listen for sound of pursuit over our heavy breathing. Well, over my heavy breathing. The Rangers and Spec-4 were breathing heavily, but comfortably. Ramirez didn’t even look tired. Suddenly, I felt very, very old.
“Why are we stopping?” whispered Spec-4.
“I wanted to listen for pursuit,” I managed to say without wheezing.
I fought hard and contained my breathing, then began to breathe slowly and deeply to slow my heart rate. I could hear the sounds of shuffling feet, but it was distant and faint. We had a few minutes to rest and think. Then I noticed a faint but steady low-humming sound. My mind registered the noise and indentified it in fairly short order. It was the unmistakable sound of multiple engines.
“Listen,” I said, “do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Ramirez.
He was in way better shape than I was, but my hearing was better.
“I hear engines,” I said. “We’re getting close.”
I headed off again, at a slower pace this time. No sense finding the enemy if you’re too tired to fight once you get there. The others stayed close behind me and kept the conversation to a minimum. The farther we went, the louder and more distinct the sound of the engines became. We were definitely going the right direction.
When the sound grew loud enough that it drowned out the sounds of our footfalls, I knew we were nearly on top of them. Up ahead at a bend in the tunnel, I could see the faint glow of light. I motioned for everyone to keep their lights pointed down and began creeping forward. Edging my way up to the corner, I slowly peered around.
The tunnel opened up into a passage about twenty feet high and about fifty feet across. About thirty yards ahead of us, there was a wall constructed across the passageway. It was about ten feet high and blocked off the entire passage. Beyond it, I could see lighting and hear the sounds of what I could now tell were generators. It sounded like it had to be at least three or four of them.
I motioned for the others to stay put as I crept around the corner. Crouching down, I approached the wall cautiously. I reached the shadow that was cast by the lights beyond the wall and studied the wall for openings. I could see a few small cracks and peeked through one. There wasn’t anyone in the immediate area on the other side. I found a gate, but it seemed to be locked with a latch-bar device on the other side.
Fortunately, the gate was designed to keep zombies out, not securely lock against intelligent intruders. The Freemen didn’t expect an attack by living people from this direction and that was good news for us. Slipping my knife out of the sheath, I slid the blade between the cracks in the door and started working on moving the latch. It slid open with some effort, but the door still wouldn’t budge. Then I discovered that there were two more latches, one at the top and one at the bottom. In less than a minute, I was opening the gate and motioning for the others to follow me inside.
I could see that there were three large generators, the kind that were mounted on trailers to be pulled behind a truck. There were cables running from each generator across the room and down the tunnel on the other side. Between the three of them, they could easily power a city block with enough electricity to run every light in the house. I didn’t have any idea why they’d need that much electricity in a cave.
Once we were all inside, I secured the gate and made certain that all of the latches were locked. I knew that there were a large number of zombies behind us and I didn’t want them getting inside with us. However, the thought of a horde of zombies coming through their perimeter fence gave me a great idea.
“Ramirez,” I said. “Can you rig some charges for me?”
“Sure, jefe,” he said, smiling. “What do you want to go boom?”
“The generators and the fence,” I replied.
“Right now?” he asked, surprised.
“No way, dude,” I said. “I want it on a timer. I want to be long gone when they explode.”
“I can do that,” he assured me. “How long do you want the timer set for?”
“Make it for three hours,” I answered, grinning. “I think we’ve pretty much confirmed the presence of the Freemen. We’re going to sneak out of here and let the zombies have them.”
“What about all the munitions they took?” asked the First Sergeant.
“There’s no way we can recover them,” I replied. “We’re in no position to try. The best thing we can do is make sure that they can’t use them either.”
“Agreed,” he said, unhappily. “I hate to blow all that up, but it’s better than having it used against us.”
“I thought your plan was to not engage,” said Spec-4.
“That was before we had a few hundred zombies between us and our escape route,” I replied. “Now our best chance is in sneaking through the cave and leaving charges behind to do the damage.”
“Basically,” said Top, “our Recon mission just became a sabotage mission.”
“We’re improvising,” I said, grinning. “I’m changing the mission parameters to fit the situation. Besides that, what other choice do we have?”
“Good point,” said Spec-4, checking the load on her weapon.
We all took the opportunity to rehydrate and eat a quick bite while we waited for Ramirez to finish placing his charges. I drank a bottle of water and ate a power bar. Spec-4 cut open a packet of MRE spaghetti. At least, I think it was spaghetti. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with an MRE.
When Ramirez joined us, he was grinning from ear to ear. He sat on the ground beside me and accepted the offered bottle of water. After downing about half of it in one long pull, he leaned back against the wall of the cave and sighed.
“You look pleased with yourself,” I said, smiling.
“I’ve got to say, man,” he replied, grinning, “that I do some good work. They would have to have a bomb dog to find where I hid those charges. Timer’s set for three hours, just like you said.”
“Good,” I said, gripping his shoulder. “Why don’t you grab a bite to eat while I scout ahead a bit? No sense in all of us going.”
Ramirez broke out an MRE of his own and started cutting into it. When Spec-4 saw me grabbing my gear, she got up and started getting ready.
“I’m going to scout ahead,” I said. “Wilder and I will check what’s around the bend and report back in a few minutes.”
“Copy that,” said the First Sergeant.
We headed off farther into the cave. Staying close to the wall, we clung to whatever shadows we could find. As I crept up to peer around the corner, I could see a well lit room illuminated by portable floodlights. It was the kind that the city utility company used to light up construction sites. They ran off of their own generator and wouldn’t go out when the charges went off.
The lights showed a large cavern where they had stacked what looked to be foodstuffs. There were two tunnels that led off of this room, but only one of them was clear. The other had been sealed off with a gate like the one we’d just come through. It was safe to assume that tunnel led farther into the underground and not to the entrance.
There were three men in this room, all dressed in the Freemen style of t-shirts and camouflage pants with combat boots. They were all armed with pi
stols on their hips but their rifles were leaning against a large box marked “baked beans.” Suddenly, I wanted a bowl of my wife’s homemade baked beans. In the zombie apocalypse, it’s the little things that you miss that surprise you.
“Do we go back or take them out?” whispered Spec-4.
I thought about it a second. They didn’t seem to be doing anything productive. They weren’t taking any kind of inventory or selecting items for use. They just seemed to be wandering around, talking about different things and occasionally telling jokes. My guess was that they were assigned to guard the back entrances, but didn’t have the discipline to do the job correctly.
“Let’s take them out,” I replied, softly. “We can dump the bodies outside of that other gate.”
We readied our weapons and selected our targets. Spec-4 was a better shot than I was, so I motioned for her to take the two on the right. I was aiming for the one that was farthest away. I took careful aim and steadied my breathing. Placing the reticule of the ACOG on his forehead, I gently took up the slack on the trigger. There was a soft cough from the suppressor and I saw him fall. Two more silenced shots snapped out in rapid succession and the other two fell to the ground.
Wasting no time, we headed into the room and checked our handiwork. All three were dead from headshots. No chance that any of them would come back, bites or no bites. After a quick search, I placed the three pistols and three knives in my rucksack. Then we dragged them out of the gate and propped them up against the other side. With all three outside the gate, we crept back inside and secured it.
The rifles that they had were all military issue M-4’s with full tactical gear. I shouldered two of them and Spec-4 grabbed the third. I didn’t see any sense in leaving them for the enemy. I couldn’t help but be impressed at the massive amount of food that they had stockpiled in this room. They had used large wooden crates and labeled them with different types of food, then sorted their supplies into the crates. There was enough food in this room to fill at least two semi-trucks.
I moved back to the corner and motioned for the others to join us. Once we were all in the food storage area, I handed one of my extra M-4’s to Sergeant McDonald. His rifle was a longer M-21 with a scope on it. I figured he might as well have a weapon for CQB[25], just in case. He accepted the rifle with a nod, and slung the larger M-21 over his shoulder after placing lens covers on the scope.
“We took out three of their guards,” I said, keeping my voice low. “They weren’t paying attention and didn’t get off a shot.”
“Good,” said the First Sergeant. “Find anything else.”
“Not yet,” I replied. “I figure we should stick close from here on out.”
Spec-4 and I took the point and headed off down the other tunnel. The others paired up and followed behind us at intervals of about ten yards. The passage took us almost another fifty yards before it opened up into another large cavern. This one had four other entrances and none of them were gated. However, two of them did have guards.
The middle of the room had been set up like a central staging area. There were boxes of ammo and food, plus crates of bottled water. I used the ACOG on my M-4 to scan the other entrances. Two of them looked to be filled with cots and sleeping bags. I was guessing those were being used as a barracks. I couldn’t see into the two that had guards on them.
“What do you think they’re guarding?” I asked Spec-4.
“Hard to say,” she answered. “Could be guns or it could be more food. I don’t know.”
Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the Freemen emerge from behind the guards. He had a young girl of about sixteen with him and he was dragging her roughly by the hair. The two guards watched him go by and laughed as he passed them.
“Gonna break that one in?” asked the guard on the left, lecherously.
“Just staking my claim,” replied the one with the girl. “I like to teach them when they’re young.”
My blood was boiling at this point. I was just about to give the order to engage when Spec-4 opened fire. She shot the asshole dragging the girl, striking him in the back of the head. His skull exploded against the wall. Before the others could react, I opened fire taking the one who had spoken to him. Other weapons joined in and the fight was over in seconds. The rest of my team had seen what was happening and taken out all of the guards before they could raise the alarm.
We quickly moved into the room. Jackson and McDonald took up firing positions covering the main entrance. The First Sergeant and Ramirez moved into one of the barracks rooms and I heard a few more silenced reports from their weapons. Spec-4 and I headed for the other entrance. She stopped to check on the girl and I moved into the tunnel. What I found made me so angry I wanted to scream.
They had erected makeshift cages in this room and they were full of people. There were a few men, but it was mostly women. The men and women were in separate cages. Without any fear of the law, these Freemen had grabbed female survivors for their own pleasure. All of them were young and attractive. I was guessing that they had either abandoned or killed anyone that didn’t make their list. I could only guess why they had kept some of the men. Whatever there reason was I’m sure it wasn’t good.
I did a quick headcount and discovered that there were over fifty survivors that were being held. None of them appeared injured, but I’m sure that they hadn’t been treated well. The fact that they were all in cages gave testament to that. As I approached the door of the first cage, the women inside cringed back from the door.
“Please, mister,” pleaded a young blonde. “Don’t hurt us.”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I assured her. “I’m with the Sheriff’s Office.”
I pointed at the badge on my chest. I could see a few faces light up with smiles, but more than a few looked skeptical. I couldn’t blame them. I’m sure that trust was not going to come easy with this group. No doubt, they’d all been prisoners of the Freemen since the outbreak of the zombie plague. I knew that it couldn’t have been easy on them.
“Are you here to rescue us?” asked a young Oriental girl.
She looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen, although I’ve never been very good at guessing the ages of women. However old she was, it was too young for what she’d been put through. If half of what I suspected was true, there was no age that should have to endure it. The Freemen were as close to pure evil that I had ever experienced in all my years as a Corrections Officer.
I hesitated for a moment before I answered. Part of me knew full-well that there just weren’t enough of us to mount a rescue of this scale. Not to mention we didn’t have any vehicles that we could use to transport them. I also knew that there was absolutely no way I could leave them behind while I was still drawing breath. The All-Father had led me here. I would trust that we would find what we needed along the way.
“Yes, we are,” I replied. “It’s time to get you out of here.”
“You’re crazy,” whispered the First Sergeant. “You know that?”
“It’s been said before,” I replied, grinning.
“If you pull this off,” he said, “I’ll buy you a drink and lift a glass to you.”
“I won’t leave them behind,” I said, meeting his gaze.
In lieu of a response, he just nodded and started working on the lock to the next cage. I pulled out my hammer and smashed the padlock off of the door to the one in front of me. Moments later, we had all of them open and were ushering the people out into the main room. As we were forming them up into groups, Corporal Jackson ran over to me and the First Sergeant.
“Top,” he said, “we’ve got contact.”
“How many?” he asked.
“About a dozen approaching from the main tunnel,” replied Jackson.
“Have they seen us?” I asked.
“Negative, sir,” he replied. “Their weapons are all slung over their shoulders. No one’s moving tactically or taking cover. I think they just returned from
somewhere.”
I motioned for everyone to get into positions. With the six of us behind cover and making a surprise attack, I didn’t see any way that they could stop us. We waited until they came into the light of the big room and we opened fire. It was over in seconds. Not one of the Freemen had even managed to get off a shot before we took them all down.
McDonald, Jackson and Ramirez recovered their weapons and left the bodies where they lay. I turned to the crowd of survivors and waved at them to get their attention.
“Do any of you know how to fire a weapon?” I asked.
Of the fifty or so that were assembled, only three raised their hands, one male and two females. I motioned for them to come over to me. When they complied, I took off a little ways away from the others.
“Tell me what kind of weapons you’re familiar with?” I asked.
“I was in the Army Reserves,” said a dark-haired woman.
She looked to be in her mid-twenties.
“Good,” I said, and tossed her an M-4.
She caught it and looked it over before checking the magazine and chamber. Yeah, she was going to do just fine. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the other two.
“I used to hunt with my dad and my brothers,” said the other girl.
She looked like she was at least part Native American.
“First Nations?” I asked her, curiously.
“Yeah,” she said.
“What tribe are you from?”
“My mother was Cherokee and my father is Sioux,” she replied, smiling proudly.
“Do you think you can handle an assault rifle?” I asked.
“I have my own AR-15 that I hunt with,” she replied. “My dad bought it for me for my 16th birthday.”
“Close enough,” I said, and handed her another M-4. “Keep it on safe or semi-auto until one of us gets the chance to teach you how to use the auto.”
“OK,” she answered, taking her weapon and checking the safety.
“I’m pretty good with a pistol,” said the young man. “I used to target practice every week at the indoor range at Bass Pro. I worked there as a stocker.”
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