Transformation: Zombie Crusade VI

by Vohs, J. W.

  Luke sighed. “Wyatt said those brothers who disappeared—you know we found one as an infected today—were both experienced, responsible patrolmen. Two guys, on horseback, who were just on a mission to observe and report . . . something just feels off about the whole situation.”

  “Are you worried that some of the hunters following us could have attacked them?”

  Luke leaned back and looked at Gracie quizzically. “Not in the least. Those are the only hunters around here that I wouldn’t suspect.”

  “Okay . . .” Gracie yawned. “Why don’t we take a group of fighters to wherever the brothers were supposed to go and have a look around for ourselves?”

  Luke reached over and switched off the light. “That’s a really good idea; I’ll talk to Wyatt about it tomorrow.”

  Gracie fell asleep quickly, and Luke relaxed as he listened to her soft snoring. Eventually, he drifted off as well.

  The tri-fold door was slightly ajar, leaving only a small crack to peer through. The corner of a dark and dingy bedroom was visible, but sounds of movement indicated that someone else was in the room. Suddenly, a sharp scream pierced the darkness. The door slid open to reveal a female hunter with long matted hair sitting on the edge of the bed. She pivoted to face the closet before letting out another high pitched shriek that seemed to bounce around the room. Luke stumbled forward, and the hunter stood and eyed him curiously. Just then, the door to the bedroom burst open and two men, with guns drawn, stepped inside. Almost instantly, dark shadows from behind Luke fell upon the men, and the female hunter turned to Luke and smiled malevolently. He reached out and snapped her neck, and her head disintegrated into hundreds of tiny black helicopters . . .

  CHAPTER 26

  The plan was simple, as plans go, although the planners had very little idea how the attack would play out once they reached the refinery. A brand new cabin cruiser, captained by J.J., would carry Jack, Carter, T.C., and Orvil to a yet-to-be-determined landing point somewhere north of the tanker being fueled up by the refinery. The goals were to disable the tanker and disrupt the operations of the refinery. They still weren’t sure about how they were going to accomplish either objective, but after everything that had happened recently, Jack and Carter were more than ready to play soldiers again.

  “Why on earth do you need T.C. to go along?” Charlotte had fire in her eyes as she glanced from Jack to Carter, then back to Jack. “He’s just an inexperienced kid who’ll be more trouble than he’s worth to you.”

  Carter tried to appease his sister. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘im—”

  “You shouldn’t have to keep an eye on him, you idiot. You’re going off on some dangerous mission—focus on the damn mission and keep my son out of it.”

  “Yer son is livin’ in a dangerous world. Yer son ain’t a little kid no more, and he don’t have his daddy to show ‘em how to be smart ‘bout survivin’ and—”

  “He’s got me. Are you sayin’ that I’m not smart enough?” Charlotte narrowed her eyes and raised her voice. “Are you sayin’ that I don’t know how to keep my family alive? We’re here, aren’t we? We didn’t need big, bad Carter to ride in and save us.”

  “Ya had Curtis!“ Carter spat.

  “Don’t—” Jack tried to interrupt.

  Charlotte spun on her heels and slapped Carter’s face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about so I suggest you shut up.” She turned to Jack, and asked icily, “And how could you go along with this ridiculous idea? You’ve been livin’ with us; you know that T.C. is an immature, self-centered teenager who wouldn’t remember to zip up his pants if we didn’t remind him.”

  “I do know what you’re saying, Charlotte, but I think you need to consider some of Carter’s points—and remember that he can’t express himself much better than a goat with a hammer.” Jack shot Carter an angry look that let his friend know in no uncertain terms to keep his mouth shut. “I’ve spent time with T.C. and he’s not a kid anymore, but you’re right—he’s inexperienced and immature. He’s also big and strong and full of young male energy and anger. He needs direction, and you could do a whole lot worse than Carter and me to provide that—we’re not raiding a horde or looking for a fight, our goal will be for all of us to stay out of sight. We really could use T.C.’s muscle if we have to carry our gear between waterways.” He walked over to Charlotte and took her face in his hands, “I promise you that I wouldn’t have agreed to let T.C. come with us if I thought it was a reckless idea. He’ll have both Carter and me looking out for him, and he will be an asset to us. Can you trust me on this?”

  Charlotte stared into Jack’s eyes for several seconds, and as a few stray tears spilled down her cheeks, she silently nodded her agreement.

  Carter’s jaw dropped as he watched the exchange between Jack and his sister. “I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but there’s somethin’ goin’ on here—“

  “You’re a tool alright,” Charlotte snapped as she wiped at her eyes.

  Jack was more direct. “Just shut up, Carter.”

  Luke woke up with a slight headache and a vague memory of a female hunter, baiting two men with a human-sounding scream. He didn’t know if it was a memory or a dream, but he was anxious to get to Whitesboro and have a look around. He was dressed and almost out the door when Gracie stopped him.

  “Hey, Babe, I woke up with a good idea.” She climbed out of bed and stretched. “We should put together a specialized break-out unit for exploratory missions or small-scale engagements—just a few Hummers and platforms with specific crews. Our goal should be to be fast and flexible. What do you think?”

  Luke shut the door and gazed at Gracie appreciatively. “I think it’s like you said—you woke up with a good idea. We could try something like that today when we check out Whitesboro.”

  “Didn’t you want to talk with Wyatt about that?”

  “Yeah, and I was on my way to do just that. If you hurry up and finish getting dressed I’ll let you come with me.” Luke tossed Gracie her boots. “I might even let you buy me breakfast.”

  Gracie slipped on several layers of clothing and pulled on her boots. “Just give me one more minute,” she said as she disappeared into the bathroom.

  Luke groaned and picked up his book. “You mean one minute like when there’s a minute left on the clock in a football game. It says one minute, but it means five or ten.” He sat down and started to read his tattered copy of Preindustrial Warfare, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  He was surprised to find First Sergeant Joe Logan standing in the hall. The gruff commander didn’t wait to be invited in—he brushed past Luke as he asked, “You plannin’ on sleepin’ in every morning? I don’t believe in burnin’ daylight.” He picked up Luke’s book and leafed through it absentmindedly. “This stuff is good to know these days.”

  Luke closed the door again and turned to Sergeant Logan. “I didn’t realize we’d set a time to meet this morning—”

  Logan squinted at Luke curiously, “I can see why you wear the sunglasses. And we didn’t have a meetin’ time. Some of my boys were just anxious to see you and your set-up for themselves.”

  Luke gestured for the First Sergeant to sit down. “Actually, I think you’re timing is perfect. We were just—”

  Gracie popped out of the bathroom and smiled at the stranger sitting across from Luke. “I thought I heard voices.” She held out her hand. “I’m Gracie, also known as Captain Seifert-Smith, but please call me Gracie.”

  Logan stood to shake Gracie’s hand. “I’m sorry to intrude, Captain?” He looked at Luke for an explanation.

  Luke smiled at the First Sergeant’s confusion. “This is my wife, and she’s also one of my best officers.”

  “Well, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I don’t know if my men will be able to look past the fact that you’re just a couple of teenagers. I don’t doubt that you’re both excellent fighters, but command is usually earned through experience.” He nodded toward Luke. “Survivi
n’ a bite certainly earns you bonus points, but your wife will have a harder time convincing experienced soldiers that she’s earned her rank.”

  Luke didn’t appreciate anyone discrediting Gracie’s experience or abilities, but he did understand Logan’s point. “Like I said, I think your timing is perfect. We need to check in with Wyatt, but if all goes as expected, you and your group should follow us on a field exercise to Whitesboro. You should get a chance to see who we are and what we’re capable of before you commit to following our orders.”

  Wyatt shared everything he knew about hunter sightings in the Whitesboro area, and he gave Luke and Gracie a basic map of the abandoned town and how to get there. The decision was made to take five of the Black Brigade’s Hummers, each pulling a combat-trailer, which was what the troops had begun calling the cage-like fighting platforms. They didn’t include any of Wyatt’s cavalry for this exercise since they wanted Sergeant Logan and his men to focus on what Luke’s forces had been trained to do. Luke expected to draw out a few stray packs of hunters attracted to the sound of humans; they would be dealt with quickly and efficiently. He also decided to run the small convoy through a series of formations along the route, mainly to show off for Logan’s group.

  The gray-fog of exhaust from the column of vehicles spread over the Texan landscape as the soldiers warmed up their diesel engines. With a temperature somewhere around twenty degrees, the ground was rock-hard and the roads covered with a dusting of powdery snow that had accumulated over the course of the previous night. A much hoped-for warm-up had yet to materialize even though the calendar said it was February.

  Gracie and Luke shared the lead Hummer with two soldiers she’d selected from her unit. They both had former military experience, and she thought that was an added bonus to their other qualifications since Sergeant Logan’s troops would be able to identify with these men who didn’t have any problem following her orders without question. Zach and Maddy each took charge of a Hummer and selected three-member crews to accompany them. Luke then chose two squad leaders to command their own and vehicles. In total, twenty people from the Black Battalion set off to show another twenty people from the troops at Preston what Luke and this part of the Allied Resistance Army were all about.

  It took less than an hour for the convoy and its audience to arrive at the edge of Whitesboro. They stopped in front of what remained of a fast food restaurant and assessed the situation. Although the town looked completely deserted, Luke sensed the presence of hunters. The first order of business was to form a laager and make enough noise to attract the attention of nearby flesh-eaters. He requested that Sergeant Logan and his soldiers incorporate their vehicles into the laager and observe Luke’s forces from the caged fighting platforms. A few of Logan’s men expressed doubt that there would be much to see in an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere, but they were still intrigued by the defensive formation of the combat trailers and the disciplined young soldiers running the show.

  Luke had climbed to the top of the marquee and was sitting under one of the golden arches with a pair of binoculars to quickly survey the area. He spotted the first pack before he heard them; he was somewhat surprised that they weren’t moaning or howling as they approached—they were jogging in unison in the middle of one of the main streets leading from the center of the town.

  “A couple dozen hunters approaching from the South,” he called down. “Helmets up!” Instinctively, he turned his field glasses in the opposite direction and focused on the state highway and interstate exits a short distance behind the laager. He couldn’t see any hunters, but he knew they were there. It made sense that the noise of the convoy would have attracted creatures along the route, but he hadn’t sensed that they were being followed. About the same time the pack from town was within crossbow range, another forty or fifty hunters stood up and peered over the ledge of the overpass.

  Gracie saw them too. “Maddy, keep an eye on your flank—we might get some action from those exit ramps.” She glanced at Luke to make sure he was seeing the same thing. She heard the crossbows release their bolts and turned to watch the result when movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. The hunters on the overpass were jumping over the edge and landing apparently unscathed on the road below.

  Luke slid down to the ground and stepped toward the surviving members of the first pack he’d seen. Perhaps half of this group had survived the hail of bolts, and now they ran into Luke and his devastating axe. The hunters tried to avoid the fighter who didn’t smell or carry himself like a human. They did their best to run around the death-dealer and his lethal blade, but half of them were destroyed before Zach with his hammer, and Gracie with a halberd, expertly dropped the rest.

  While Gracie and Zach had been showing off their skills, Luke noticed that there were no longer any flesh-eaters on the overpass, and he concluded that they were now forming up for an attack on the opposite side of the laager. In his heart, he knew that this had been a coordinated attack by intelligent creatures capable of communicating with one another. “Back to the laager!” he shouted before sprinting towards the tiny circle of vehicles and sliding over the hood of one of the Hummers.

  Zach and Gracie were right on his tail. Maddy had taken charge of the defense against the new attack, placing two men each in three of the fighting cages. She also ordered a pikeman into each of the Hummers’ fighting ports. The rest of the soldiers guarded the spaces between the vehicles.

  The hunters had learned nothing from the destruction of the first wave of attackers, rushing the human position en masse in a tactic that had probably worked for them before. Not this time. The first volley of crossbow bolts dropped ten of the beasts as they began their assault, and the men in the cages had pre-loaded extras they used to drop half a dozen more monsters as they closed on the laager. The pikemen in the fighting ports of the Hummers stabbed mercilessly with their twelve-foot shafts, punching right through skulls with nearly every thrust. A handful of monsters actually managed to breach the laager, only to find Luke and his bloody axe waiting to greet them. Then it was over: the Whitesboro pack was no more.

  First Sergeant Logan and his men had watched all this unfold with growing unease. They had been anxious to add their firepower to the assault, and they were stunned when Luke politely refused Logan’s offer of assistance. They were even more stunned when a ring of dead and dying hunters surrounded the laager not more than fifteen minutes later, without the use of firearms or any other artillery.

  Wanting to travel under the cover of darkness, Jack and his team left town an hour before dusk. They were placing their trust on a nearly full moon and a clear, cold sky to provide enough illumination on the river to avoid the many obstacles that could damage their midsize cabin cruiser. J.J. had convinced them that he knew the lower Mississippi as well as any pilot still alive, but travelling the river during the hours of darkness always had been, and was still, a dangerous proposition. Jack felt the potential reward outweighed the risk, and Carter fully agreed with his long-time comrade—they wanted to be as discreet as possible if they were heading into Barnes-controlled territory.

  As the cruiser left one of the Vicksburg piers behind in the setting winter sun, Orvil sidled up to Carter and asked if he was worried about hunters.

  “Naw,” he replied. “We learned a long time ago that those critters ain’t the most dangerous on the planet. I’m worried about soldiers with guns defendin’ the refinery and the tankers.”

  Orvil looked even more nervous. “How we gonna avoid the flesh-eaters and enemy soldiers?”

  “Tomorrow night, soon as it gets dark, we’ll strap on NVGs and pull out some sharp toys. Any hunters mess with us will be dead really quick. When we get close to the refinery, me and Jack will switch to ARs with silencers on ‘em; we see the soldiers before they see us and put ‘em down.”

  “What happens if we get past all that?”

  Carter grinned like a feral cat with a bird pinned to the ground. “That’s when
the fun really starts! We get to blow stuff up.”

  “How are you gonna blow up them tankers? Those things are bigger than you think.”

  “I know how big they are,” Carter wryly replied. For a moment he remembered the battle off the coast of Middle Bass Island. “They can still be taken out.”

  “How?” Orvil sounded extremely skeptical.

  “Two words: dynamite and shaped charges.”

  “That’s three words.”

  “Naw,” Carter protested, “there should be a hyphen between shaped and charges.” Jack emerged from the cabin, took one look at Carter, and started to turn around. “Hey, Professor, ya can’t keep avoidin’ me—this boat’s only ‘bout thirty feet long.”

  “I’m not avoiding you, but I’m not going to discuss Charlotte with you either.” He kept his voice low and glanced around to make sure that T.C. hadn’t overheard his mother’s name. “Not here anyway.”

  “Fine, but I want some answers as soon as we git back to Vicksburg; I don’t begrudge ya findin’ comfort where ya can after losin’ Andi the way ya did, ‘cept if it’s with my sister.”

  Orvil couldn’t help but overhear the exchange between Jack and Carter, but he kept his head down and his mouth shut. He was glad that, for the rest of the trip, there was no more mention of personal issues.

  In spite of a harrowing journey during the night in which they almost collided with a massive oak tree floating down the middle of the river, they spent most of the next day hiding behind a wrecked barge whose bow was stuck in Louisiana mud. Even though they were still twenty miles north of their destination, they felt it was necessary to remain out of sight as much as possible.

  They set out again at dusk, and J.J. landed the cruiser a mile north of the electric glow of the refinery roughly an hour after sunset. The young pilot would stay with the boat; he would be anchored north of the site until notified by the small hand-held radio that the strike-team would turn on only after what they hoped would be a successful mission.