by Ricky Sides
Leroy Pratt, the driver of the truck wasn’t worried about the mission. He had taken on similar tasks a half dozen times in the months since he had joined Big John’s marauders, and to date, he had never even been wounded while doing so. The plan called for him to breach the gates, and then deploy his smoke screen, which consisted of a large chemical package that, when activated, generated a very large and thick cloud of grey smoke. The foot soldiers would then advance and infiltrate the enemy compound. Then they would take one strong defensive position after another until the opposition was left with nowhere to hide. That was when the real slaughter would begin.
No, Leroy wasn’t concerned about the mission. Therefore, when Big John gave the order to advance to the gate and breach it, he was eager to comply. He gunned his engine and drove the heavy vehicle off the blacktop and onto the surface of the dirt road leading to the refuge gate. His vision was limited by the small open space he had available to see through as he drove. The four by six inch, rectangular slot could be covered by a drop-down flap of plate metal. Doing so would blind the driver, but he could open it again at the flip of a switch, so even that drawback didn’t bother him. He was skilled at memorizing the lay of the land and being able to steer the truck to the desired destination, even when the flap needed to be lowered for several seconds as he took heavy incoming fire.
Leroy expected the defenders to open fire on his truck as soon as they saw it headed toward them. When that didn’t happen, he thought they were waiting for him to get closer before they began shooting. Soon, he was well within firing range, and still not a single shot had been fired at his armored breacher. Emboldened by the lack of resistance, Leroy depressed the accelerator and increased his speed. Then he heard an amplified voice warning him to stop or he would be killed.
Leroy smiled and thought they would have stood a better chance of deterring him had they opened fire en masse. No one else had ever forced him to abort one of his runs, but there was always a possibility that they might get lucky. Their threats were wasted on him. As the breacher, Big John gave him first choice of one of the women captives for a night, and he was already thinking about the things he planned to do to the one he selected.
He surveyed the gates with an eye toward the speed he would need in order to punch through both gates. They were of wood and wire construction and were not reinforced by steel bars or rods. The ditch beside the gates would be a problem, if he ran off the road, but he didn’t anticipate that happening. Even if they opened fire with everything they had, forcing him to close the viewport shield, he could hold the truck steady long enough to penetrate both gates, but they had yet to fire a single shot.
Leroy Pratt was driving his truck thirty-five miles per hour, which he estimated was more than enough speed to accomplish his mission. He was forty feet out and lining up with the gate when the pair of bombs, hidden beneath the dirt road, detonated, rupturing the gas tank and turning the interior of the truck cab into a raging inferno. The twin explosions blew all four tires and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. The momentum of the vehicle kept it moving the final distance to the edge of the ditch.
Leroy’s burning truck rolled over the edge and crashed into the bottom of the ditch. He wouldn’t be getting his pick of the women tonight. He had died instantly when the concussive force of the twin explosions had torn him apart. Tommy Gunn knew his business when it came to setting up defensive explosives packages.
Big John’s men, who had been advancing on foot to attack the base, had made it to within a little over 100 yards of the refuge. They witnessed the destruction of their armored truck and tried to retreat as they fired wildly into the refuge.
Herb and his team opened fire, as did a score of defenders atop the berms facing the gates. They weren’t attempting to kill the enemy. Instead, Herb had instructed the men to target their legs, reasoning that wounded men would also tie up healthy marauders who would have to tend to their injuries. His team managed to wound about a dozen before the others made good their escape, but the rest of the defenders were less experienced. Two killed the men they were targeting when they misjudged their shots, but most missed altogether. They had all been taught how to fire their M4s, but lacked practice after their initial training. It was foolhardy to practice when even a single shot almost always drew zombies to the refuge.
Herb ordered the men to hold their fire. They watched as the wounded marauders called out to their friends for help and began to drag themselves back toward the road. Herb instructed everyone to permit the wounded men to escape and receive assistance from their friends if any was offered.
Back at the road, Big John was furious with this unexpected turn of events. His losses were piling up, and they had yet to penetrate the refuge, or even come close to achieving that goal. To make matters worse, the snipers who had attacked his men had escaped, and for all he knew were still stalking his men.
He stared through his binoculars at the large crater that had been blown in the road by the explosions. It blocked his advance as effectively as a reinforced concrete wall would have because it would no longer be possible to use a vehicle to breach the gates. That meant his people would have to do it on foot, and that would lead to mass casualties. No, he wouldn’t order his men to attempt that mission. Instead, he devised another plan. Although it was still dangerous, it at least had a reasonable possibility of success. He lowered the binoculars and began to organize his men. He called for volunteers to help rescue the wounded that were still dragging themselves toward the comparative safety of the road, and then he called his team leaders to him for a hasty conference.
***
“That was a lot of shooting,” Bernie noted quietly as he and Hernando moved closer so that they could see the enemy. “It sounded like a full out assault. I hope they haven’t breached the defenses.”
Hernando stopped and nodded gravely in agreement with that sentiment, but said, “The explosions we heard would most likely be the roadside packages detonating. They would only do that if the marauders were attempting to break through the gates. I’m confident that they would stop them before the enemy reached the gate.”
“We need to help them,” Bernie insisted.
“And so we will, but first, we need to know what is happening,” Hernando replied. The two men had stopped behind a tree and knelt down to converse in quiet tones. Hernando was about to make another comment, but he stopped and sniffed the air.
“What is it?” Bernie asked.
“Don’t you smell it?” Hernando responded. Then he added, “There are zombies near. Probably several of them.”
“You can smell zombies at a distance?” asked Bernie.
“Some of them, yes, but not all,” Hernando explained in a faint whisper. He then held a finger to his lips and cocked his head to the side as he listened. He heard a quiet moaning sound. Fifty feet to the west, a group of six zombies hobbled into view. They were the source of the smell and the sounds that Hernando had detected.
Bernie and Hernando fought down the urge to attack the zombies on sight. They remained still because they had no idea how many more might be in the area. So far, the undead creatures hadn’t spotted them. They seemed intent upon following the sounds of men shouting in the distance, and hadn’t even glanced in the direction of the men from the refuge.
As they waited, Hernando listened as best he could in an attempt to hear the approach of any other zombies. When Bernie moved as if to follow the departing undead, Hernando placed his hand on his shoulder and stopped the sniper. He nodded slowly in the direction of a heavy stand of trees and then he eased around to the other side of the tree he was beside and dropped to one knee to lower his profile. Bernie soon joined him and the two men waited in silence. They didn’t have long to wait. Another small group of seven zombies emerged from that direction. The men could hear them long before they could see them. When they stepped into view, it became apparent that they were following the trail left by the other group that had just passed t
hrough.
Bernie waited until that group of zombies disappeared from view, and then he looked to Hernando to see if the man detected any others near them. He now had a healthy respect for the Hispanic man’s ability to sense that the undead were nearby. It was easy to see why he had survived in Newport and managed to keep his people safe.
Hernando didn’t consider it at all remarkable that he had smelled and heard the approach of the two small groups. After all, he had had months of experience in avoiding them in the city where they were much more numerous, and there is nothing like a good healthy dose of fear to heighten the senses. He used those heightened senses now as he strained to detect the approach of other zombies. Finally, he shrugged and got to his feet. If there were other undead creatures nearby, he couldn’t detect them.
“What do you want to do now?” Hernando whispered.
“Our people in the refuge are still outnumbered. I say we use the distraction those things will provide to get back in the trees on the other side of the road. We can then set a few traps to surprise the enemy and try to secure a few more weapons and some more ammunition. I don’t think it’s going to be possible for us to get back inside the refuge to resupply.”
“Then we avoid the area where the zombies are attacking?” Hernando asked.
“Yeah, I think we should. It would be just my luck for the things to detect our presence and leave off trying to kill the marauders to attack us,” Bernie explained his concern, which Hernando found valid.
Hernando nodded in agreement and said, “The odds against us are high enough. I agree. We should avoid the zombies.”
The two men then slipped through the woods as quietly as possible, sticking to cover as best they could. They waited until they heard the screams of men and the discharge of firearms indicating the zombies had reached the enemy, and then they crossed the road well to the east of the marauder column.
The fight with the zombies didn’t occupy the enemy for long, but it was enough time for the sniper team from the refuge to slip through their lines and begin to implement their plans to set a few deadly traps and find a suitable spot to ambush the marauders.
Hernando was surprised that Bernie seemed so well versed in setting traps. At one point, he asked him where he had learned so much about such things. Bernie shrugged and said he’d had months of captivity with little to do when he wasn’t working, so he had spent a lot of time thinking about everything he had ever learned about survival. He had even requested books on the subject, and Herb had seen to it that he had access to all the reading material he wanted.
“He let you have access to military manuals?” Hernando asked.
“No, I don’t even know if they have any of those, but they have several good books on survival. The traps I’m setting were included for trapping small game. I’m just making them bigger for the enemy, and hiding them better,” Bernie explained.
“I hope we don’t stumble into one of those traps ourselves. That would be bad,” Hernando said.
“Yeah, so we need to remember where they are located. When this is over, we need to disarm the ones the enemy doesn’t trip,” Bernie explained.
The two men continued to move through the forest around the refuge. They set numerous traps, which was time consuming due to the need to work quietly. Most were simple spring traps that would drive a wooden stake into the body of the unlucky soul who triggered them. At one point, Hernando noted that the traps all seemed to target the legs and lower abdomen of the enemy. He questioned Bernie about the wisdom of spending so much time on non-lethal traps. He said, “I understand you are trying to spare as many men as possible, but is that wise, given our circumstances? Your traps are targeting low. Perhaps they are set too low to be effective.”
Bernie then explained the concept of wounding enemy troops to force them to commit other combatants to caring for them. “So in a way, we get more benefit from wounding some of them than we would if we outright killed them. Besides, a wounded man bleeds, and the zombies will seek out the smell of blood,” he explained.
Hernando looked at his partner with renewed respect.
“I know it’s a shitty thing to do, but it’s them or us, partner,” Bernie explained.
“I agree. I was just thinking that I am glad we’re on the same side,” Hernando said.
“So am I. I’ve heard a lot about your exploits in Newport. I once heard Jesse say that you were the bravest man he had ever met, and that impressed me. He also said that you were one of the kindest and most compassionate men he had ever met.” Bernie paused a moment and looked his new friend in the eyes. “I have to say that I agree with him. When this is over, if I survive it, I hope we can be friends.”
“We already are,” Hernando said. “You’re a brave man. I’d fight with you any day.”
“Same here,” Bernie said with a smile of happiness on his face. Getting to know Hernando had done wonders for his morale. He was the first person since the shooting to treat him like a decent human and trust him. He wasn’t about to let his new friend down.
“I do think I need to say something to you though,” Hernando said.
Bernie’s smile faded at those words. “Here it comes,” he thought. He expected Hernando to retract his offer of friendship.
“If you ever again let the lust for a woman make a fool of you, I will punch you in the nose,” Hernando warned.
Bernie’s smile returned and he quipped, “If you are really my friend, you won’t wait until I make that sort of mistake. If you even think that’s about to happen, you have my permission to do it then.”
Hernando considered Bernie’s words carefully in silence with a serious expression on his face. Bernie waited for his response, having learned already that Hernando was a deliberate man who took such things seriously and wouldn’t be rushed.
“Consider it a promise,” Hernando finally replied.
“Good. Now, let’s get back to work,” Bernie said.
Chapter 14
Zombie attack.
Until the zombie outbreak, Dusty Rutledge had been a maximum security inmate at the Mississippi State Penitentiary, located in Sunflower County. At the height of the chaos, the inmates had rioted and overpowered the few guards who remained on duty. Many of the convicts had gone on a killing rampage, slaughtering their enemies inside the prison, which included a few guards and a large number of other inmates, but Rutledge and a dozen others had wasted no time in making good their escape. They had fled the state just ahead of the zombie outbreak. They later learned that the government had used nuclear weapons on several states two days prior to their escape in a prison van. Only then did they begin to understand the absence of so many of the guards that had made it possible for them to overpower their jailers, and the ease with which they had avoided capture.
The outbreak had come as a complete surprise to the escapees, who had been kept ignorant of what was transpiring outside the prison walls. After their escape, the men had driven into Arkansas. In the middle of the night, they broke into a school building where they planned to hide overnight. They watched news coverage on television in the media center of the library to see if the authorities were aware that they were in the state. Only then did they learn what had been transpiring in recent days and the scope of what it encompassed. The men had naturally turned to Dusty who had been one of their gang leaders inside prison. Accustomed to following his orders, they listened to what he had to say.
The next morning, the group of convicts used the two shotguns they had stolen from the prison to begin their crime spree. They robbed a small town gun shop, where they acquired several semiautomatic pistols and rifles as well as the ammunition and extra magazines needed to utilize them. They went on to rob another in a different location in order to outfit each man with a rifle and a pistol. At the second gun shop, they had their only encounter with law enforcement when a Sherriff’s Deputy sought to intervene. They killed the man, and then killed everyone who had been in the store at the time so t
hat they would leave no witnesses.
Once they were well armed, they went about stealing supplies to augment what they had found located in the school building. The news had informed them that schools in the area had been closed indefinitely. Therefore, they planned to use the location as a place to ride out the outbreak. The school was a county facility, well away from any major population centers.
A week passed uneventfully before anyone stopped by the school. The men had been lying low and waiting to see what happened. They had plenty of food, thanks to the bulk supplies for the school lunch program, not to mention all of the food that they had stolen.
Unfortunately, as food became scarce, several people in the area got together and decided to raid the school in the hopes of finding the very supplies that the former convicts were consuming. Twenty-three men, women, and late teen youths broke into the school intent upon ransacking the supplies. The sixteen males and seven females were shocked to discover that a well armed group of men had beaten them to the supplies and were not about to share with them. Dusty’s men grabbed several females to use as hostages. They then forced the men to submit to being bound. Afterward, the females were locked inside a room at the other end of the school, while the males of their party had their throats slit. It would have been better for the females had they shared the same fate. Instead, they became the victims of a dozen sex-starved outlaws who practiced every form of depravity known to man on them until they begged for death.