Irregular Scout Team One: The Complete Zombie Killer series

by John Holmes

  “OK, let’s saddle up!” We piled our rucksacks into the bottom of the zodiac, started the motor and headed out across the lake. Across the water, the Green Mountains of Vermont looked down on us; just another war party, like a thousand others they watched impassively in the last three hundred years.

  Chapter 97

  “So how do we do this?” asked Red.

  “We go in flag flying. We’re the US Army, and I’m betting they won’t shoot at us if we’re representing the Army.”

  Red shook his head. “I think your reasoning is wrong, Nick. I think if you go in there flag flying, some of these rednecks are going to shoot at you just because they think you’re a jack-booted federal gubbermint thug who is gonna take their guns.”

  “Seriously? Why would I do that? Take their guns after surviving the Zombie Apocalypse?”

  “There ain’t no explaining crazy, Nick.”

  Brit was trailing her hand in the wake of the boat, but she watched Hart, who was sitting up in the bow. I knew she was watching to see if she was going to break after losing her team. Ahmed steered the boat, keeping the throttle low. We were in no rush to get there, and there were some small waves we hopped over. I just sat back and enjoyed being out on the lake, a chance to let my guard down a bit.

  Red was right. Any way we played it, we were outsiders who were going to upset whatever power balance existed on the island. In my experience dealing with survivors, they tended to resent us showing up. Anger that the federal government had failed them in the Zombie Apocalypse, or just a tendency to resent authority anyway. This was the first time, though, that we had dealt with such a large group, and one that had somewhat legitimate authority.

  We heard them long before we saw them. A long causeway extended from the mainland to the island, probably part of an old railway. I had been this way before, on a fishing trip, and I knew there was a break in the causeway that you could run your boat through. Well, there used to be a break. Now there was a bridge, and just before that, a large wall extending thirty feet up in the air, completely blocking the road.

  Trailing off southward down the causeway were zombies. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Seemingly as one, they turned to the sound of our motor. All howling in symphony, but staying away from the water. Ahmed cut the engine and we drifted slowly about a hundred feet off shore.

  “Holy crap,” said Ahmed. “That must be every single zombie in the Burlington area.”

  “Ya think? Frigging rocket scientist, this one.”

  Hart scanned the barrier and the bridge behind it with a pair of binoculars. I saw her stop and then lean forward, trying to get a better look.

  “Ahmed, can you bring us around the back side of the barrier?” she asked.

  “Paddles, everyone. No need to get them any more worked up than they are already.” We broke out the oars and started pulling around.

  “Yep, I thought so.” Hart handed me the binos.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Look at the base of the barrier. There are charges set around the whole thing. Looks like construction demolitions, the kind used to take down derelict buildings.”

  “Are they set to blow the bridge?”

  “Nope, if they go, they’ll take down the barrier only.”

  Brit couldn’t resist. “And how do you know all this, Lady Brianne?”

  “Because, Miss Wiseass, while you were getting stoned and laid in college, I was defusing IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

  For once, Brit was speechless. Hart went back to studying the barrier.

  She put the binos down. “I can’t figure it. Blowing the charges would eliminate the barrier completely. I can see if the wired the bridge, but the barrier …”

  “It’s a threat,” said Ahmed. “The General is holding this over his people’s heads. Maybe not overtly, but if push came to shove, he could always use the threat of these zombies to justify martial law. If you look closely, you will find a radio receiver hooked to a detonator. His military forces probably have a fortress that can resist even the whole horde, with high walls. In the event of revolt by the civilians, they hole up, blow the barrier, and the civilians are done. Probably have an escape route too. Boats, most likely.”

  I nodded. “So much for the job of the military being to protect and defend civilians.”

  Hart turned to me. “Do you want me to disable it?”

  “Can you do it without setting it off, one hundred percent guaranteed?”

  She thought about it for a minute, studying it again with the binos. Finally she answered with a flat “no”.

  “Odds are, it’s rigged. Not to blow, but there are probably anti-personnel mines all over the place.”

  “OK, well, that settles that. Let’s get away from here and go talk to the mad man.”

  Chapter 98

  “OK, Ahmed, you’re out. Red, you’re his spotter. Lay low and watch for my signal. This could go bad pretty quick.” We slowed the boat, and they slipped over the side into the water, weapons and packs balanced on two inflated inner tubes.

  We had left them on the empty, northern part of the causeway. Hopefully the watchers on the shore hadn’t noticed us slow down. It left them no avenue of retreat, which I wasn’t comfortable with, but they both took inflatable life vests so they could take to the water if necessary.

  “If we’re not back in twenty-four hours, then Hart will come get you with the boat. Do hourly radio checks with Liberty Main, and call in the hammer if things go bad. Level that.” I pointed to a building which crouched on the shore, surrounded by Texas barriers, ten foot high slabs of concrete. From it flew the Vermont state flag, and underneath that flew the yellow Gasden “Don’t Tread On Me” flag. Through the binoculars I had counted three guards standing on a platform inside the wall.

  “Time to poke the dragon,” said Brit, and she, Hart and I headed out in the Zodiac, towards a dock that stretched out into the water. The half mile passed quickly, and as we pulled up, we could see a reception committee waiting for us. A half dozen soldiers, backed by a .50 caliber heavy machine gun. Hart kept her MK-19, mounted on a pintle in the boat, trained on the machine gun crew. They tracked us all the way in until we pulled up to the dock. I climbed up the ladder onto the dock, and Brit backed the boat away, idling about a hundred meters off shore.

  I stepped forward and saluted the two star Major General standing in front of me. He was a short, compact man, wearing full battle rattle, and he had an intense, blue-eyed stare. He glared at me for a moment, and then quickly returned my salute, seemingly out of habit more than anything. Behind him, four bodies hung from a makeshift gibbet, swaying gently in the breeze. No quick deaths, those. Instead of dropping them and breaking their necks, a quick death, these scumbags had pulled them up, leaving them up to strangle. I tried hard to hide the look of disgust on my face, but the man standing in front of me saw it. His expression hardened.

  “Sergeant. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and for men with hearts of iron.”

  “Save me the speech, General. Next you’re going to say you’re a sheepdog, guarding the flock from wolves.”

  We stood that way for what seemed like an eternity and was probably no more than fifteen seconds. Behind him stood a man wearing full Colonel rank, and two guys from what I figured were his brute squad. They were both over six feet and muscle-bound. I ignored them and looked at Danny Westbrook, who brought up the rear. He nodded to me.

  The General broke the silence.

  “Staff Sergeant Westbrook here tells me that you are with the Regular Army, some kind of scout team. I’d like to see some credentials, please. And a copy of your orders.”

  Seriously? Orders? What planet was this guy living on?

  “Ah, General, the only thing I can show you is my old ID card. In case you haven’t noticed, things have been a bit squirrely over the last few years. I have no written orders. In fact, I’m just here to get my men. I understand they have been your guests over the last few we
eks.”

  “Um, guests, no, not actually. They are prisoners, on trial for murdering several of my men.” He waved his hand, and Ziv and Doc were escorted out of the gate of the fortress. Actually, Ziv walked out under his own power, in handcuffs, but Doc was dragged out by two men and dumped at my feet. The guards went back inside the gate, and I knelt down to him.

  “Hey, Nick,” Doc managed to whisper. “You’re late.” His face was a mass of bruises, and there were cigarette burns on his arms. No fingernails on his right hand. “I never said shit.”

  I looked up at the General. “Am I supposed to be impressed? I’ve seen worse in Afghanistan. What, exactly, is your point?”

  “My point is, Sergeant, that I am the law here. This is the Sovereign State of Vermont, and we are no longer a part of the United States. If there even is such a thing, which I doubt.”

  This wasn’t going to work. I had seen it before, leaders who let power go to their heads. Little warlords who wanted to set up their own little kingdoms. I despised them. Still, I had to try.

  “General, let me explain something to you. Right now the US Army is fighting a massive brawl down by New York City. Last year we retook Denver. Next year we will be taking back Northern California. We seized the oil fields in Mexico. It may take a year, or two, or even three years, but the Feds will be here. You are sitting on top of a vital transit route and shipping line, once we get the canals back in order. Oh, and in case you hadn’t noticed, we settled the whole secession thing more than a century ago.”

  He stared at me, glaring, then walked past me, looking out at the lake. The Colonel, who I assumed was his Chief of Staff, walked over to him and talked to him quietly. After a minute, I broke into their conversation.

  “General, regardless, you and all of your troops were recalled to Active Duty three years ago. I know you have radios and you heard the broadcast. Right now, you and all your men are in a state of rebellion against the United States. I can’t hold your men responsible, because, for all I know, they think they are acting under legitimate orders, but you, as their commander, are liable. I’m giving you one chance. Stand down, turn over control of the island to the civilian population, and things can go back to normal. I won’t say anything about what happened before we made contact. This is a fight that you cannot win.”

  He turned to me. The Colonel put his hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

  “My men know full well what they are doing.You have a lot of balls, Sergeant, I’ll give you that. It’s going to need an extra strong rope to hang you. We fought, all by ourselves, and survived. Where the hell were you and your precious federal government? No, we don’t need you. As far as those civilians you’re whining about, they’re a bunch of useless sheep who got us into this mess in the first place.”

  He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, the time for those things have passed. The US was rotting a long time before the Zombie Apocalypse, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let myself be ruled by a bunch of Liberal retards. You’re just another one of those New Army touchy-feely punks, coming here with a bunch of women to back you up. In fact, it will feel GOOD to hang you. Your friends, too.”

  “Then, Sir, I have no option but to place you under arrest for rebellion, treason, and murder. You’ll be coming with us, back to Albany.” I placed my hand on the stock of my rifle, but I kept my eyes on Danny, wondering which way he was going to jump.

  Danny stepped forward. “Sir, it’s time to let it go. Turn it over. What you did, hanging those civilians, was wrong. Nick is giving you an option. Please take it, before things get worse.”

  “Sergeant Westbrook, your opinion is noted. Corporal, please arrest him, and Sergeant Agostine, also.”

  One of the brute squad reached out to grab Danny, and all hell broke loose. Time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time.

  Danny leveled his M-4 and pointed it at the Corporal. “Stand down!” he yelled.

  The Colonel pulled out his pistol and fired at Danny, catching him in the neck in a spray of blood.

  Danny spun around and fired a full auto burst toward him, emptying his magazine before he fell, and rounds tore through the General’s legs, hurling him down to the ground.

  The first guard brought his pistol up to fire at me, and his head exploded in a pink mist from a sniper round fired by Ahmed.

  Ziv hit the other guard on the side of his face with his handcuffs and then started wrestling with him, trying to choke him, slamming his head against the ground and cursing at him in harsh Serbian.

  The .50 caliber started hammering, but Hart was faster on the trigger, and a string of 40mm grenade rounds slammed into the sandbagged position, chewing through the bags and striking the gun, silencing it.

  Brit slammed the boat into high gear towards the dock.

  As he fired, the Colonel grabbed a Motorola two-way on his harness and hit the transmit button. A muffled BOOM rolled over the water. I shot him through the head and he fell to the ground.

  Doc rolled over and kicked the guard struggling with Ziv in the head, stunning him.

  Ahmed took out the remaining three guards in as many seconds with sniper fire.

  I ran over to Danny, pulling a field bandage off my kit and pressing it to his neck. Blood was everywhere. He had been hit in an artery and was bleeding out quickly. I pressed my hand over the wound, but it kept squirting out. Not again. Just like that kid on the barge.

  “DOC, HELP ME!’ Doc crawled over, and pulled my hands off Danny’s neck.

  “He’s dead, Nick. Let him go. We have to get out of here.” He was right; the flow of blood had stopped, Danny’s eyed had glazed over. I reached up and pushed his eyelids closed. Then, with a ripping sound, I pulled the Velcro American flag off my uniform sleeve and put it on Danny’s chest.

  “All enemies, foreign and domestic. You did good, Brother.” Then I stood up and helped Ziv carry Doc to where Brit had pulled up to the dock.

  As we passed the General, he tried to drag his pistol out of the holster and aim it at me. I kicked it away, then tied tourniquets around his legs. Each had a bullet hole through them, one in his thigh and the other through his kneecap.

  “Help me!” he moaned.

  “Fuck you, you traitor, I hope the zombies take a long time eating you. You swore an oath to your country and your state, and you broke both.” Then I kicked him in the wounded kneecap and he screamed.

  “That was for Danny. And this is for Doc” and I kicked him again. He screamed even louder.

  I started back towards the island and Brit shouted at me, “Nick, where the hell are you going?”

  I yelled back, “I have to warn the civilians!” As I spoke, a UH-60 rose from the back side of the island and thundered off in the direction of Isle Le Motte. An air raid siren started sounding. I looked over to the right, and saw that the zombies were swarming down the causeway. I stopped, turned around, and ran back towards the boat. I guess they knew now.

  As I ran down the dock, a crowd of civilians appeared, running for the gate to the fortress. Before they got there, it slammed shut, and a stream of tracers reached out into the crowd, chewing through their bodies. The crowd broke and ran, but the zombies were in among them, biting and clawing.

  Hart had cast off the line holding the boat to the dock , and Brit yelled at me “Let’s go, you fat old slug!” I fell more than I jumped, landing on Ziv, who cursed me in Serbian. We pulled away and raced back over the water to where we had left Red and Ahmed. The spot where they had been was swarming with a nonstop stream of animated corpses, heading onto the island, but we picked up the two of them floating on their inner tubes, kicking hard away from the causeway.

  “Hart, can you blow that bridge?”

  “Sorry, Nick, my mouth just isn’t that big,” Hart deadpanned, then got serious. “How much C-4 do you have?” Brit handed her a brick, about a pound or so. “Oh hell yeah, that will work.”

  She slipped over the side onto an inner tube and pad
dled over to the bridge. We backed off another hundred meters while she worked, packing the C-4 under one of the bridge pilings. As she did so, zombies were reaching down to grab at her. One got hold of her hair, and she coolly fired her pistol straight up into the zombie until it let go, then finished what she was doing. I guess she had gotten over the shock of seeing her team mates killed and was back to being a smooth operator.

  When she got back to the boat, I nodded to Ahmed. He leaned forward with his rifle resting on the bow, and fired. A puff of dirt shot up just above the C-4. When Red snickered, he muttered “damn waves,” and fired again.

  The C-4 exploded with a dull crump, and the bridge shattered into a million pieces, throwing wood and concrete into the air. The rush of zombies stopped short, some falling into the water, the volume of their howl kicking up a notch and carrying across the waves.

  “Whoohoo, Hart! Put Red on your shoulders and I’m going to call you Master-Blaster instead of Lady Brianne!” She ignored her, and we watched as the pieces fell down into the water.

  “You know several thousand got onto the island. Those civilians are dead,” said Ahmed.

  “Yeah, but there is one thing I can do for them.”

  I reached for the radio.

  “Orion, this is Lost Boys. Execute Arc Light, Target AA 2375, over.”

  “This is Orion. Roger, execute Arc Light, Target AA 2375, out.”

  Three miles up, a mix of a half dozen B-52H and B-1B bombers had come back on station after carpet bombing a zombie horde outside Newburgh. They had been patrolling over the Adirondacks for the last two hours, ready to support combat operations anywhere in the Northeast. Scout teams had priority of fire if there were massed targets, and I had worked with these guys before. Two years ago, the team had extracted the navigator and copilot when one of the overworked, sixty years old B-52s had come apart midair, and their chutes had carried them down onto some flatland just outside Syracuse. Before we had left Albany, I had given a target list to the Air Liaison at the Task Force Headquarters.