by J. W. Vohs
Bruce grunted, but he didn’t look convinced yet.
Jack continued, “Besides that, if thousands of zombies find out where we’re hiding, thirty fighters on the walls of The Castle won’t be able to stop them. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but that wall has an 800 meter perimeter. You’ve seen what these things can do to us when they’re massed and we’re not. Do you really believe we can keep thousands of zombies out of The Castle with one soldier for every twenty-five meters of wall?”
Both men thought for a moment before Marcus said, “I understand your point. Now let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want us to lead all of the zombies outside of here back to The Castle so we can kill most of them at one time and place?”
Jack nodded, “That’s the basic idea, but there’s more to it. We’re going to drive quietly to The Castle and drop off all of these people. For now we can shelter them in the barn and the basement, and we’ve got plenty of food. Then we escort the people at the courthouse and Station 1 back to The Castle. We organize and set up our defenses, and then we drive all over the county with the truck sirens blaring. Once we have a few thousand following us, we’ll park the trucks outside the walls and keep the sirens going until the batteries give out. Inside The Castle we’ll stay quiet until the zombies are massed, then we’ll choose the time and condition of the battle we know we’re going to have to fight sooner or later.”
Bruce thought for a moment, then asked, “Wouldn’t you rather do it later?”
Jack smiled grimly, “It should take a few days for the zombies to gather, and we’ll heal up and rest during that time. When we’re ready, we’ll initiate the fight. After we beat them, we’ll clean up stragglers and then re-establish safe houses with proper defenses and supplies. We can work on getting power up and running; basically, we take back the county, or at least our part of it.”
Marcus pointed out, “Noble County probably has four hundred thousand people living within thirty miles of its borders. I mean, I actually like your plan, but eventually more zombies will come.”
“They will,” Jack agreed, “but we’ll be better prepared for them. We’ll have these people trained to fight, and hopefully be better armed and armored. We can blow bridges and create funnel areas into the county; design kill-zones and keep them heavily guarded. Eventually we can even go on the offensive, find others in the region that have banded together and defended themselves. Basically, we can create a life for ourselves and our children that isn’t simply reduced to hiding behind our walls hoping that no zombie army comes along and kills us.” Jack paused to catch his breath. “You’ve been to war man, you know as well as I do that no defense works forever; our best hopes for ultimate victory is to take the offensive.”
Both of the former Rangers nodded their heads. They had seen U.S. firebases they thought were absolutely secure overrun in a few hours. As their war had dragged on, the enemy eventually found a way past all defenses. In the end, they had to get out there and take the fight to the foe. In short, they knew Jack was right even if they didn’t relish the idea of calling thousands of these creatures to the very gates of The Castle.
Finally, Marcus spoke, “Better call everyone and tell them your plan. I know Carter will agree, so just tell John and Tina that we all agree with your idea. Eventually they’ll see it’s the right strategy. Bobby and the rest of our guys are always up for a fight. Let’s do it!”
Nearly three hours later the modifications to the fire trucks were complete, or at least as good as they were going to be considering the time and material limitations they were working under. Each of the trucks now carried a sixty by twenty-foot secure platform that was five feet off the ground, with a four-foot high chain-link fence providing a protective barrier for the people who would be riding in these evacuation vehicles. With a sigh of relief Jack realized that they were going to have plenty of room. He told Deputy Little to begin organizing the refugees for evacuation, then headed up to the roof to see how preparations there were progressing.
As soon as Jack stepped onto the roof from the access ladder Marcus headed his way with an expression that didn’t foretell good news.
“You’ve got to see this, Jack,” he stated grimly.
They walked over to the edge of the roof, and the sight took Jack’s breath away. The station was surrounded by a tightly packed horde at least twenty zombies deep. After a long moment of silence Marcus asked, “Now what was your plan for getting us out of here?”
Jack ignored the question and countered with one of his own. “How much ammo do we have?”
Marcus shook his head, “Not enough!”
“Give me numbers,” Jack insisted.
“We have four clips full of .22 for each of us from The Castle, so a hundred-sixty of that. Two hundred shotgun shells but they’re mostly low velocity six-shot; I seriously doubt they would cause enough damage to drop one of those monsters from more than about thirty feet out. We have forty rounds of double-ought, and those will get the job done if we have somebody good on the trigger. One guy has a bolt-action .308 with fifteen rounds. Eleven handguns of assorted calibers, but nobody has more than twenty rounds left in them. One dude actually has a compound bow with six arrows. Anyway, I don’t see how we shoot a path clear for those trucks with what we have here.”
Jack thought for a moment, “Well, I wish we had more ammo, but I do have an idea.”
Ten minutes later Jack was holding a meeting with Carter, Marcus, Bruce, Maddy, three of the men who’d proven their mettle that day, and the appointed drivers of the trucks. Jack opened the discussion by insisting that he’d considered every option, from calling The Castle for backup to simply trying to drive through the zombie horde. He had dismissed every possibility on the grounds that it was either too dangerous or impossible. Finally he told them his best idea.
“We build two sturdy scaffolds and lower them by ropes over the edges of the roof as far from the bay doors as we possibly can while still providing line of sight for the zombies blocking our path. On each scaffold we have a shooter with shotguns blasting rounds and yelling bloody murder. When enough of the zombies have moved away from the bay doors we send out the guards to pull corpses out of the road and clear off any wire that could get tangled in the trucks. Once the vehicles are clear all of the guards jump on and protect the refugees during the drive to The Castle.”
He paused for a moment and scanned the faces around him. Most held expressions of doubt, but nobody objected to the plan yet. Jack continued, “Carter heads to the Hummer while all of that is going on and drives into the bays as soon as the trucks pull out. Our shooters climb back up on the roof and make their way down to the vehicle as fast as they can. Carter follows the trucks home and everybody lives happily ever after.”
Nobody spoke up right away, but finally Marcus asked, “Who are the shooters?”
“You volunteering?” Jack asked with phony cheerfulness.
Marcus grimly nodded.
Jack looked proudly at his old war-buddy and said, “I’ll take the other one.”
Bruce stood up and calmly objected, “No, you won’t. I’ll take the other scaffold.”
As Jack started to protest, Bruce interrupted him, “You know we need experience in those spots. Carter is wiped out. I really don’t know if he should be on the Hummer, but I trust him to tell us if he can’t go. That leaves you and me. The most important part of your plan is leading the guards out of the bay doors and clearing the road. That’s you, Jack, and we all know it.”
Jack looked around to see everyone nodding their heads in agreement.
He knew that he couldn’t deny their logic, and deep inside a part of him knew that this was what they were going to demand even before he told them that he would be one of the shooters. The scaffold positions were by far the most dangerous assignments in this plan, and the odds were against either of them getting out, let alone both. In fact, the driver of the Hummer was going to be at great risk as well. During the war, if the
y had been convinced of the need to put their lives at risk for over a hundred civilians they would have done it without question. Any of them would have ordered the men in their squads to do it without question. But in this new world, the thought of losing three Rangers in one mission, let alone his best friend and two of his wartime buddies, was almost impossible to comprehend. He would literally rather die than have to live with the knowledge that he had gotten his fellow Rangers killed, especially since Deputy Little had allowed this situation to develop through his lack of control of the people in the safe-house.
Suddenly he remembered the deputy, who was down with the trucks positioning civilians on the platforms. Little had made his living from the taxes paid by these people to protect them, and he would not be of much use helping the trucks escape the station because he simply was too out of shape to move around quickly enough to avoid the zombies. Jack wondered if he would be sentencing the man to death by ordering him to be one of the shooters, but the fact was that every order he’d given since the crisis began could have led to his soldiers’ deaths. He had lost seven people already today, including two men from The Castle during the fight at Hunters Ridge. The simple truth was that in this plan many people currently in the station could sit on the scaffold and pull the trigger while shouting to attract zombies. He’d been worried about the shooters’ escape chances when in reality the most difficult task was going to be fighting through the remaining creatures outside the bay doors and clearing the road of corpses and wire so the trucks could escape.
Jack came to a decision. “Now that we’ve talked this through a bit I believe that I wasn’t seeing the priorities of the tasks in this plan correctly. The fact is that I was putting the chances of the shooters escaping over those of the refugees. Deputy Little and one of the civilians, and I’ll ask for a volunteer, will be our shooters. We’ll do everything we can to get them out of here when their jobs are done, but the bottom line is that we’re going to have one hell of a fight on our hands out there. We need to clear the remaining zombies in front of the doors, set up flank protection out at the perimeter, then remove the corpses and any wire from the road. We need our best fighters out there, not on the scaffolds.”
He looked around to see most of the people gathered for the meeting lowering their eyes, knowing that Jack was right, but worried that anyone not in Bruce and Marcus’ condition would be unable to get to the roof and down to the Hummer in time.
Carter spoke up for the first time, “For those of ya here that ain’t ever been soldiers ya gotta know somethin’; the mission always comes first. Our mission here is to get those civilians outta this death-trap, and we all have to play the roles we’re best suited fer. Jack’s thinkin’ might seem harsh to ya, but in the Army that’s just the way it works, everyone has to do what they’re best at in order to complete the mission. Think about all the people in this place too old or young or weak to fight, and then imagine those trucks bein’ overrun by zombies. I’ve seen how they kill, well actually, I’ve seen how they eat; usually the dyin’ comes at some point after that. Our number one priority has to be gettin’ these people safely outta here, and Jack’s plan is a good one.”
Nobody disagreed with Carter’s observations, and after a moment Jack stood up and said, “Okay, we have a plan. Maddy, help Bruce and Marcus find the materials for the scaffolds and get the guns and ammo the shooters will need. Then you join Carter down in the bays; you’ll be riding shotgun in the Hummer. Everyone else round up all of the guards and start explaining the plan to them. I’ll talk to Deputy Little and find another shooter. Let’s be ready to move in twenty minutes.”
By eleven-thirty the plan was ready to be put in motion. A man in his fifties who had served a four year hitch with the Marines and had hunted all his life had volunteered to be the second shooter. His name was Rex White, and as Jack watched him say goodbye to his wife and three teenaged boys he hoped the old Jarhead was as tough and capable as he looked. The trucks were loaded with the civilians, leaving room to spare for the guards who would be jumping on as soon as the vehicles passed the perimeter. Jack’s fighters were geared up and standing in two columns in front of the bay doors. He had fifteen guards on each side, while Marcus, Bruce, and the young man who’d proven so deadly with the sledgehammer were standing in a skirmish line just ahead of the columns.
The kid with the hammer was Zack Kinstler, and they’d learned after the earlier battle that he was an eighteen year-old senior who starred at the local high school as a defensive end on the football squad, as well as a slugging first baseman for the baseball team. He’d sheepishly told Jack that was where he’d developed the swing that had crushed the skulls of dozens of zombies earlier in the day. He was honored to be asked to lead the columns out of the doors with the Rangers, and Jack just hoped the kid made it out of this mess in one piece. His mom, sister, and girlfriend were on the trucks, so he had ample motivation.
Finally satisfied that all was in order, Jack told everyone to sit tight until the shooters had done their jobs. Jack went up on the roof and gave the signal to Carter, who was standing above the scaffold with Rex White, to begin firing. Jack took his place above Deputy Little and told him to start shooting. A final tweaking of the plan involved Carter and Jack using the assorted rifles and ammunition to thin the horde as much as possible without actually dropping any zombies in front of the bay doors. Even in his exhausted condition, Carter was an outstanding marksman, and Jack wasn’t far behind. They were dropping zombies with nearly every shot. Little and White were doing their jobs, loading and firing their shotguns into the mobs beneath them, yelling and shouting while they were pelting the zombies with buckshot.
The plan was working about as well as could be expected. Hundreds of zombies were now moving away from the front of the station and pushing toward the men on the scaffolds. After three or four minutes of shooting though, Jack could see several problems developing. First, zombies from the other side of the building were also moving toward the noise so the creatures they wanted out of the way were fighting for space with those whom Jack wished had stayed put. He realized that he should have created some type of diversion on all four sides of the building, but it was too late for that now. The second problem was that Little and White were firing directly down into the crowd beneath them, and at that range even the light loads they were using were killing zombies, sometimes two at a time. Others were being crushed by the weight of the horde trying to reach the shooters, so a mound of corpses was rapidly developing under the scaffolds. Some of the zombies were climbing on their fallen brethren to get closer to the men.
Jack had finished up the rifle ammunition so he trotted over to see if White was facing the same problem as Little. When Jack could finally see what was happening on that side, he saw that the old Marine had quickly figured out the problem. He was still firing at zombies close enough to kill, but he was methodically firing around a small perimeter which prevented a mound from developing directly below. Carter was also out of ammo so Jack told him to head down to the doors and tell everyone they would be moving in just a few minutes. Jack then headed back to Little and yelled for him to stop firing for a moment. He quickly explained the problem, which the deputy had noticed but been unable to solve. The deputy then began shooting at zombies further out as often as possible, but the damage was already done; he still needed to focus much of his fire directly below since the zombies were now almost able to reach the scaffold.
Jack looked down carefully toward the area outside the bay doors and decided it was about as good as they were going to get. There were still a dozen or so milling about on the road the trucks would be using, plus several corpses were writhing on the pavement, probably crushed by the rush of the horde trying to reach the shooters. He yelled back down to Deputy Little, “Be ready! As soon as those trucks clear the bays get the hell out of there!”
Little shouted back, “Got it,” before resuming his firing.
Jack ran over to White and told him tha
t they were about to head out, then climbed downstairs as quickly as possible and took his place at the head of the column. After a quick look around to make sure that all was ready, Jack looked over to Maddy and Carter who were guarding the door openers mounted on the walls. He gave them the thumbs up signal that told them to push the buttons.
As they waited for the doors to lift high enough for them to scramble under Jack looked at Bruce, Marcus, and Zach. Covered from head to toe in leather and helmets, he could still tell by their body language that they were ready to kill zombies. Though it seemed as if minutes were passing, the doors opened high enough for Jack and his leaders to duck under in about ten seconds. The first thing Jack and Bruce did was crush the skulls of the zombies already on the ground just to make sure they stayed down. Then all four of them moved on to engage the dozen monsters Jack had counted from the roof. In less than fifteen seconds all of the zombies were truly dead, and the men began frantically pulling corpses from the pavement as the columns of guards rushed by them on their way to the wire perimeter.
As Zach was pulling the last body away, Jack waved the fire trucks forward and took a quick look out at the perimeter. As planned, one half of the guards were providing flank security while the others were removing corpses and pulling up wire. As soon as Jack had the trucks out of the station, he led his men forward to join the guards working to clear the road.
By now dozens of zombies were turning away from the scaffolds that had gone silent and were moving back toward the trucks that had emerged from the bays. The people on the platforms were already five feet in the air, and they were also protected by a chain-link fence around the entire structure. Nevertheless, everyone that could wield a pike was stabbing over the fence and into the faces of the charging zombies, doing their best to make certain none of the monsters got close enough to try to climb aboard.