Zombie Killers: Ice & Fire

by John Holmes

  With that threat neutralized we heard the pilots coordinate as they circled the base assessing their targeting options before lining up for their bomb run. It was now obvious that the naval base was where the anti-American forces were operating.

  The helicopters began to line up for final approach on the target, a large parking lot near the Naval Base. William and Ethan’s bird was in front with ours behind. The plan was for us to go into the city and set down in a clear area to figure out the 5W’s so a future mission could take care of the anti-American presence. The 5W’s of course are who, what, where, why, and when.

  We went feet dry over land as the Hornets lined up for their bomb run on targets at the navy yard. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a missile arced out of a cloud bank and curved into the tail of one of the F-18s.

  “Holy shit!” The helicopter pilot yelled in surprise. “That was a sidewinder missile!”

  “Where did it come from?” I asked.

  Looking up I could see the contrails of the missiles and aircraft, the fireball from the destroyed Hornet, there was no parachute. The second Hornet maneuvered wildly trying to locate the source of the launch. Out of the sun I saw a second missile contrail. The Hornet driver jinked and popped flares and chaff to try and fool the missile.

  “Cancel the mission.” JJ’s voice said over the radio. The helicopters began to turn around.

  “It must be an F-22 Raptor from Langley Air Force Base” Adam deduced.

  “Langley is only twenty miles north of here.” the helo pilot said.

  The F-18 lost its duel with the F-22 and took a missile hit in the fuselage. I couldn’t tell if the pilot made it out or not.

  The helicopters were back over water racing away from the aerial combat. The F-22 did not want us to get away though; it launched a radar homing missile. It locked onto the other chopper, now in the rear of our retreat. My helo continued to flee the scene but the other chopper pulled a tight turn to try and fool the missile. It headed towards the city where it could hide among the tall buildings and lose the homing missile.

  It didn’t work. The missile hit the slow moving rotary aircraft straight on the tail. I could see two people thrown out of the helicopter, but I lost them as the helo maneuvered around a tall building on its way down. I couldn’t tell what happened when the Blackhawk crashed.

  “We have to turn around!” I shouted at the pilot.

  “We can’t go back there.” The pilot said. “We were ordered out, besides if we go back there we would only end up like the others.”

  “My cousins are back there!”

  “Forget it mate. They’re gone.” Adam counseled.

  “I’ll get an unmanned vehicle orbiting the city as soon as you return to base. We’ll find out what happened.” JJ said. “We’ll be back.”

  Chapter 13

  ETHAN

  I was relishing this rare opportunity to stay above the dirt; enjoying the sites without having to watch my back. I barely knew something had happened before I felt a massive jolt and saw one of the SEALs and William thrown out of the bird as we dropped in a violent spiral. Before I could grab for him he was gone. The pilots call to “Hang on!” was too late. Glad I wasn’t sitting on the edge. I saw the tall buildings wiz past the open doors as we spun uncontrollably. I couldn’t tell how far we made it before we finally hit the deck, nor do I know how long we were down before I came to.

  The fuselage was in rough shape and small fires smoldered around me. Luckily I was still ambulatory. I looked around and found a fire extinguisher. My vision was blurry but I knew that if any fuel made it to fire I would be in trouble. I looked myself over first. I banged my arms up as I flailed in the descent, but no broken bones as far as I could tell. My legs seemed to work but I figured my right ankle was sprained. Wouldn’t be an immediate problem with my boots providing support and compression. Glad I actually wear boots, unlike... No time to think about that. I checked my head last and noticed that I was bleeding at a pretty good rate from a gash on my hairline.

  I broke open a combat bandage and tied it around my head as I began to check the other crewmen. The closest man to me was the crew chief. His head is twisted almost completely around with his eyes opened wide. I couldn’t get a pulse. Painless way for him to go and now one less for me to worry about. I could hear the gunner moaning and saw him sprawled on the left side of the aircraft, now at the bottom.

  “Are you ok?” I asked.

  I could see him spit blood as he responded, between gasps. “Chest….hurts. Can’t….breath.”

  “I probably won’t be able to help but I’ll get you out of here.”

  I wrestled to get us out the open door above us, using nylon netting to pull myself up. He was clearly in pain but I couldn’t exactly be gentle. It seemed to be sometime in the afternoon but I didn’t think to check my watch. As we came out the top I surveyed the area. It looked like we hit in the middle of a cul-de-sac, probably several miles from where we stated our violent descent.

  I didn’t see any zeds but I knew the crash would draw them. I left the gunner about 50 feet from the crash. It looked like a nice area; at least it would have been if the groundskeeper hadn’t taken the last couple years off.

  “It’s important that you lie on your side so that your airway stays open. Try to keep the noise down.” I counseled the gunner, who was already turning pale.

  I ran back to the crash site but started to feel light headed and fell before I made it. I felt pretty woozy but I tried not to think about it. I could worry about that if I was still alive after I got the others out. The rear compartment was now empty so I headed to the cockpit. It looked like we hit nose fist and there wasn’t much left. As long as the area stayed clear I could focus on keeping the gunner alive. He was moaning pretty loud now and I continued to think about his treatment as I exited the side door.

  There were about 5 zombies surrounding where I left him. That explained the moans. I didn’t have much time to dwell on my SNAFU before I heard the noise of an engine bouncing off buildings heading toward the crash. I ducked back into the chopper and surveyed what supplies I could take. I was going to have to run and whatever I found in here could help my chances on the ground. I was able to grab two packs and the chopper’s first aid kit.

  I didn’t wait for them, whoever they were, to get any closer. I grabbed a grenade from my pack, pulled the pin and tossed it into the cockpit before climbing out and sprinting headlong toward the tree line. I heard the explosion behind me, but since cool guys don’t look at explosions, I kept running. I crossed the 40 meters to the trees fairly quickly and I didn’t think I was seen so I took a moment to observe my pursuers.

  They parked between where I was hiding and the crash. They were driving a standard Humvee. Probably not hard to find one of those these days, especially with the density of military installations in this area. But it made me wonder what other military hardware they had access to, I mean, besides fighters, and air to air missiles. Two men got out. At this distance I could just about hear what they were saying.

  “Better be careful. There are still secondary explosions.” said the first man, mistaking my deliberate sabotage for accidental damage.

  “Looks like at least one man survived the crash. He didn’t make it far before the dead got here.” inferred the other.

  The zombies didn’t pay them any attention as they feasted on the gunner and the two took their time dispatching them with well aimed shots from their rifles.

  I shouldered my M-14 and used the glass to get a better look at them. As they moved toward the crash, the flames cast light upon them and I was able to get a pretty good look. They didn’t look like most of the Reavers I’ve encountered. They were surprisingly well groomed and wearing military style uniforms, not unlike my own, as well as tactical gear.

  “We need to clear and hold this area. The General will want to see this.”

  “Roger that.”

  I stayed low and quiet so I wouldn’t draw any at
tention from the dead or living. I went prone behind a tree and continued to observe their movements. It soon became apparent from the way these men secured the area that they had had some kind of formal training. Retired military? Reservists? National Guard? I kept watching until more men showed up. It was clear at this point that there was a ranking structure in place with these men. One of the new responders barked out an order to search the area for more survivors and I took that as my cue to leave.

  Chapter 14

  It wasn’t hard to put distance between myself and the searchers. The dark set in and aided my escape and the suburban terrain was favorable. Plus they didn’t even know I was out here. I think they only made it about one hundred meters out from the crash before turning back. There were fewer zeds than I would expect from a residential area, but I suppose that if these men are operating in the area they have been cleaning up.

  I started looking for a place to set up for the night. I kept moving through the development for a little more than a mile until I came upon a house that sat away from the others. It looked like it was probably the show home for the development, which means there wouldn’t have been any inhabitants before so there shouldn’t be any zeds now.

  I moved around the house, looking in the windows as I circled. I didn’t see any movement as I made my way into the back yard. I came in slowly through the back door into the kitchen. Every surface was covered in dust and the particles dance in front of my flashlight. I took out my chop stick and pounded the butt against the marble countertop which resonated nicely throughout the house.

  I heard a singular moan in reply coming from the front of the house. I left my supplies and rifle by the back door in case I had to run back out that way, drew my .45, and, along with my chopstick, I made my way forward, passing through the doorway I came to the living room.

  Standing just out of sight on the other side of the doorway was the source of the moan, a lunging real estate agent complete with yellow blazer. I was able to side step her and finished her on the floor with a single cleave. Zombies rarely think two moves ahead, neither do I for that matter, but it hasn’t been a problem so far.

  I checked the rest of the house to my satisfaction, then after getting all my gear up to the attic, I raided some bedding from the other rooms and used it to cover the windows so I wouldn’t project any light. Now that I had stopped moving I could finally take stock of my assets.

  I still had my primary and secondary firearms plus two hundred rounds for the M-14 and another one hundred for the SIG along with about six fighting knives, pocket knives, multitools etc. I had maybe three liters of water, but I had a bottle of purification tablets, two MREs and three supplement bars along with a radio and various survival gear I keep on me at all times, including a nice map of the area. I checked the other bags and found more water, rations, and 9mm. I wouldn’t need all my med gear but it would come in handy if I found anyone friendly enough to trade.

  Having taken stock, I turned my attention to my injuries. My head wasn’t bleeding anymore but still throbbed. I cleaned the wound and changed the bandage, took off my boots, and felt my right ankle immediately start to swell. I wrapped it and iced it with an instant icepack from the helo’s FAK. No other injuries stood out so I considered myself lucky compared to the rest of the crew. I hoped William died quick and painless.

  Once I finished treating my wounds I went over to the attic window. The house was situated on a small hill so I had good visibility. It was already pretty dark but I was able to pick out a couple landmarks and approximate my location. I posted to the IST5 Facebook page “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Chopper crew is KIA. William and the SEALs MIA. I am down somewhere about 10 klicks east of Portsmouth. I’ve seen what we’re up against. Looks like anti American ex military. They seem to be lead by someone they call The General. Maybe an old commander. I am safe at the moment. Will continue to observe until I hear further.”

  It’s a good thing smart phones are set up to operate via radio waves now because it was much safer posting that on the book than radioing in while every bad guy in the state listens in and triangulates my position.

  I couldn’t sleep just yet with my throbbing head so I went to the window. I could see lights from the crash site until just after 0200 when the vehicles started to breakaway and headed both west, toward the city, and north.

  As activity died down I began to reflect on my predicament. This was probably the first time since z-day that I’ve been truly on my own and I felt both alone and unburdened by my family, constantly having me keep them alive.

  Chapter 15

  WILLIAM

  I woke up with a start. I felt a sharp pain run up my leg. I looked down to see what remained of a business woman gnawing on my boot, which to my surprise was thick enough to stop her teeth. I guess The Walking Dead was right about that. I tried to get up quickly to incapacitate her when I realized my arm was pinned under a desk. Seaman Jackson, the SEAL who knocked me out of the helicopter was lying on top of it, with a broken neck. With one quick motion I rolled my body, kicking her off my leg, and pushed the desk off my arm. While she was stumbling back up, I made it to my feet and shoved my knife through the top of her skull.

  After she dropped into a heap on the floor, I did the same. I stared up at the ceiling feeling dizzy and I gathered my concussed thoughts. After we were thrown from the chopper, we flew through a window about halfway up a tall office building, and I must have hit the ground pretty hard, because I was unconscious for nearly a half hour before the she-lurker wandered in and tried making a meal of me. I had chest pain, so I probably bruised or cracked a rib or two, and I had to have gotten a concussion. I should have known trading my M1 helmet for an Ops-Core helmet would have been a good investment. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the advantages of an impact test, like they make you take for most high school sports, so I had to just power through it, and get back into contact with (the remainder of) my team.

  After I checked to see if the SEAL was dead or undead, I made sure that the room was clear and that I didn’t make too much noise walking around. After I found that there were no immediate threats, I went back over to the dead member of my helo team to take anything of use from him, and cover him with some curtains I found. While I was determining what I should take with me between the two sets of gear I discovered a problem that made some of my decision much easier.

  Apparently when I came crashing through the window into the building, the mount holding my Scope onto my rifle snapped, not to mention the glass inside was cracked. Luckily, at least in this instance, it didn’t pour when it rained. I quickly remembered the Jackson’s Remington MSR, also chambered in 7.62 that I had been eyeing since we left the ground. Back in the “old world” these two rifles made me drool, and even now, I find it a struggle to choose between them. But after all, I’m already up shit’s creek, why use a paddle when I’ve got a motor. After seeing that his scope and mount didn’t suffer the damages that mine had, I placed his Leopold Mark 4 scope atop my rifle as if I was crowning a king.

  I knew that the sight would only need a slight bit of tweaking, considering the rifles wielded the same caliber, so I would worry about sighting it in later, then I grabbed the rest of his ammo, his food, and the rope he was carrying. Just like the Boondock Saints, you never know when you might need rope. Charlie Bronson always had rope. I took the rest of his useful gear and hid it, then, after saying a few words, and showing him as much respect as I could, I pulled Jackson’s prayer book out of his shirt pocket and read an excerpt from where he had a bookmark. After I started looking for a way to figure out what’s going on in Norfolk.

  As much as I wanted to get out of that building and find the helicopter, I had to get higher and survey the surrounding area and see who or what was out there trying to take us out. When I got to the roof, I found the sun was much higher and brighter than it was before the crash, so I took a moment to hook my dented helmet onto my bag, and pulled on my bonnie hat
.

  Just then I heard the screech of a PA system echoing off the surrounding buildings, projecting a disembodied voice, the origin of which baffled me. As I focused I began to understand what was being said and I felt as though my breath was cut short. The man on the speaker was directing patrols to find the downed helicopter, and be sure that there were no survivors.

  At that, I broke free of my petrified state, and began spinning around on the roof, looking for a column of smoke, so that I could try and get there before the roving patrols of anti-Americans. When I didn’t see it on my third rotation, I decided to walk the perimeter of the roof, and scan the surrounding area with my new scope for the source of the voice and a threat assessment.

  I looked to the North and I could see the Naval Base just before the horizon, but I knew that the voice couldn’t have come from there; it was too loud, too clear, so I knew that I didn’t have very much time before the patrols would be on me.