by Lundy, W. J.
James slapped the bottom of his rifle’s magazine and stepped off, not looking behind him. Rogers waited until James created a bit of distance then turned and winked at Jacob before falling into the slack position, following James down the debris-ridden sidewalk. Stephens pushed Jacob off ahead before moving Jesse behind him; they fell into a long, stretched out column, traveling slowly but deliberately at the same time.
Jacob watched as James and Rogers worked together clearing areas and blind spots around corners. They quickly cleared danger areas and leapt back ahead before pulling the rest of the column in close behind them.
The way they traveled down the main street was far different from anything they’d done in training. The method in which the point man and slack man played off of each other’s movements and hand signals seemed choreographed. Jacob slowed as he watched the men out front clear another corner until Stephens moved up behind, urging him forward.
“What’s wrong? You see something?” Stephens whispered.
Jacob flinched, startled by the man moving up beside him. “What? No, it’s just… how am I supposed to do that?” he asked, pointing ahead with a free hand.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it. Trust me, you’ll be glad you got teamed up with us,” Stephens answered.
Jacob stopped and froze when he noticed the men out front had vanished from view. Stephens grabbed him by the collar and together they knelt behind the body of a large Chevy sedan resting on flat tires.
“Where did James go?” Jacob whispered.
Stephens didn’t answer; instead, he put a gloved finger to his lips to signal silence while he searched the streets ahead. Jacob looked back and saw Jesse lying flat on the ground, his M4 resting in front of him. Marks was just behind him, looking through a pair of binoculars. Jacob turned back ahead and searched the empty street.
He saw a flash of movement on the far side of the street, which turned out to be a stout woman in a flannel shirt and camouflage pants. She carried an assault rifle close to her chest and ran to the front of what was once a pharmacy. She stopped at the front and two more men dressed similarly ran past her and leapt through the broken storefront window. After a brief pause, she followed them inside.
“Deltas?” Jacob whispered.
“No… bandits, maybe militia; either case, they’re bad news and we try to avoid them when we can,” Stephens answered.
Jacob looked at the building then back at Stephens. “So we just ignore them?”
Stephens shook his head. “Any groups out here are usually bad news; the types that can’t adapt to the camps or military service. Best case, they’re friendly and want our gear and help but they’ll slow us down and deplete our supplies.”
“And worst case?”
“They’re hostile and will kill us to get what we have. Listen, some of them ain’t all bad, but the groups out here are noisy and they take a lot of chances. Especially the ones this close to friendly lines, there’s usually a reason they choose to live in the hot zone. We need to keep our distance, okay? You may find this hard to believe, but it’s not all puppy dogs and rainbows outside the wire.”
Jacob nodded his understanding. Stephens pointed far ahead, turning Jacob’s attention back to the patrol. The point man was on his hands and knees and waving them forward.
“Okay, bro, you need to be sneaky now. Get your ass up there without them seeing you,” Stephens whispered, patting Jacob on the back.
Jacob nodded and pushed himself back onto his rear. He gripped his rifle tight as he took a last look toward the pharmacy building. The stout woman was nowhere to be seen. He stepped off lightly at first, testing the sound of his footfalls. Hearing nothing, he picked up the pace and ran ahead expecting to hear the sounds of gunfire. Finding another bit of cover ahead, he stopped and ducked low to hide behind a small van while he caught his breath. He glanced back and saw Stephens signaling for Jesse to move up.
Jacob duck-walked ahead and looked around the front bumper of the van. Closer now, he could see into the pharmacy storefront and hear the sounds of shelves being pushed over, but the woman was still nowhere to be seen. Looking ahead, he spotted Rogers waving him on impatiently. Jacob got back to his feet and sprinted forward. Running with his head down, he didn’t stop until he was feet away from Rogers. He carefully slowed his pace and knelt down beside the other soldier, breathing heavily as he pressed himself into the cover of an old stone bench.
He looked over his shoulder in time to see Jesse move up and drop into cover beside him. They held their position until all of them were grouped back together. Rogers shot Jacob thumbs up before the man climbed back to his feet and resumed his patrol just behind James. Stephens waved Jacob on and he moved ahead and fell back into the column. Looking around, they’d manage to move through the town and were now approaching the marina.
Long sets of wooden docks with small boats in all states of disrepair greeted them. Some were sunk in the water all the way the rails, their taut ropes still tied to cleats on the docks. In some places, larger boats had dropped below the surface and taken bits of the wooded pier structure with them. Jacob moved quicker now, mimicking the movements of James and Rogers ahead as they ran crouched down on the tips of their toes and stopping only briefly to look at their surroundings.
Soon they were deep into the marina, near a U-shaped fork in the wooden docks. James stepped near the edge of the dock and reached out at a filthy canvas tarp, covered in mildew and mold. He tugged at the edge and fought the fabric until it moved. Rogers stepped forward and assisted the bearded solder; together they removed the heavy tarp, revealing a dark inflatable boat resting beneath.
As soon as the craft was uncovered, the two men leapt aboard and dropped the outboard engine into the water. The boat was coated in a non-reflective black paint, the bottom made of a soft aluminum covered in rubber skin. Marks ran up behind them with Stephens and Jesse in tow. “Okay, let’s get this thing moving. We have a rendezvous to make.”
Jacob moved along the dock and prepared to jump onto the small inflatable when a gunshot echoed from the main street.
Chapter Thirty
“Aww shit, they’re in it now,” Rogers gasped, looking through the scope on his rifle. “Not much I can do from here; they're out of range.” He was positioned high in the bow of the inflatable, standing so that he could see beyond the marina and into the main street.
Marks moved ahead to look past him. “What do you see?”
“Looks like those fools attracted some unwanted attention. I got Delta movement coming on to the main drag, less than ten for now. Those fools better move before more show up or they’re gonna get cornered,” Rogers reported. A woman’s ear-piercing scream put emphasis on Rogers’s statement.
Marks looked down then toward James sitting over the controls; his eyes were locked on the town, his gloved hands pumping into fists hungry for action. “It’s not our mission, James. Come on, let’s start the boat and get us out of here.”
James, instead of starting the engine, raised his hand. “Sir, if I may?”
“Go on, but make it quick.”
The pace of the gunfire from the main street picked up, as did the screams. The sound of the battle was terrifying but still far away. Suddenly, the chaos was joined with the howls of the Deltas. “Sir, just let me put some fire downrange, help pull some of them Deltas back in our direction and give those fools a fighting chance at least. Hell, sir, we got time and distance on our side. We can get in the water before them things get anywhere near us,” James said calmly, yet failing to hide the urgency in his voice as he continued to look back.
Marks shook his head. Gunfire raged behind them. “Fine… make it happen. Take one of the cherries, but don’t go far, stay in the marina… if you fuck up, we won’t be able to wait.”
The bearded sergeant smiled and backed away from the controls, turning and jumping back to the dock in a single leap. Pausing, he looked back at Jesse then turned to Jacob. “You ready to get your
dick wet, rookie?”
Jacob looked up at him with shock in his face. Showing confusion and fear, he shrugged; he then nodded, knowing what he had to do.
James laughed. “Good, then drop that pack like a set of college girl panties and come run with me. You ain’t lived 'til you’ve had some alone time with Sergeant James,” he said, offering a hand to Jacob.
Jacob dropped his rucksack and pushed himself forward. Reaching out, he took James’s hand and was yanked out of the boat and nearly across the far side of the dock. James took off at a light jog, not waiting for Jacob to steady himself. Explosions, mixed with the sounds of the gunfire, ricocheted across the marina.
“We’ll have the engine ready to go; don’t be late,” Marks called out after them.
Jacob leapt forward. Keeping his rifle tight to his chest, he struggled to keep up as James rounded corners looking for the end of the docks and searched for the perfect position. James turned left and moved toward a wooden boathouse structure. Near the boathouse was a flimsy wooden barrier with a gate and a large concrete planter blocking vehicles from driving onto the docks.
James dropped in close behind the wooden barrier next to the planter then signaled Jacob to find a position near his side. Jacob watched as the bearded soldier removed a pair of hand grenades and set them on the wooden barrier to his front. Jacob reached for his own grenades, but the soldier reached out a hand, stopping him.
“Nope, this is just insurance; two should be enough—save yours for later,” James said before looking back to the front.
Jacob could see the mass building far ahead, gathering on the sidewalk across from the pharmacy. Whoever was in the building was putting up a fight, keeping most of the Deltas in the street. The things were standing, using the abandoned cars for cover as they fired into the empty storefront. If they charged, the fight would be over.
“I’ve never seen them fight like that,” Jacob whispered.
James spit on the dock as he raised his right hand to make adjustments to his optics. “Yeah, they get smarter every day. Most still run at you, but every now and then, we find a group like this that knows how to fight.”
“Once I start firing, they're going to change direction and come at us. You need to be quick and make your shots count. Don’t let your rifle go empty, but call out if you have to reload; I need to know what you are doing at all times. Stay close to me,” James said with excitement in his voice. “Understood?”
Only hearing every other word, Jacob nodded his reply, causing James to spin and grab his shirt collar. “I said, understood?”
Jacob backed away. “I got it!”
“Then fucking say so; this ain’t scout camp—you need to sound off!” James lifted the rifle back to his eye. “We’re wasting time, let’s go to work.” Eager to join the fight, he swiveled, quickly found a target, and pulled the trigger.
Jacob raised his own weapon and searched the street to the front, looking for targets. As he searched, he watched the Deltas drop to James’s rifle. Others stopped firing into the pharmacy, turning in the direction of the new threat. Jacob looked at a tall male through his scope; the creature turned and faced him, its mouth open and ready to scream. Jacob flinched and squeezed the trigger at the same time. Keeping his eye on the target, he was rewarded with a pink mist as the creature dropped to a knee. Refocusing his eyes, Jacob held his breath and fired again, this time watching as the thing’s head snapped back.
He locked onto another target and fired at it on the move. The bullet struck true, and the skinny man tumbled forward from the impact. James let loose a three-round burst into a mass of creatures charging at the storefront. Searching for targets of his own, Jacob locked in on another man who was running toward the docks. He eased back the trigger and fired, missing completely, the rounds dropping behind the creature. He continued to pull the trigger and watched a round impact at the man’s feet, missing again. More screams came from close by; so close he thought they were on top of him. Jacob rose away from the scope and saw that a small group had broken off and moved at them from a flank.
Concealed in a blind spot, they’d gotten to within a hundred feet and were closing at a dead sprint. Jacob stood and backed away from the barrier. Lifting his rifle, he fired quick shots and dropped the first runner. Jacob turned on the balls of his feet to fire into the chest of a woman with a torn shirt. She was armed with a steel rod and slashing at the air as she screamed while running toward him.
Two pulls of the trigger and she stumbled out of control, crashing to the ground. Jacob pivoted hard again and found himself looking into the devilish black eyes of the final attacker. Empty handed, it sprinted on with fisted hands, its teeth bared and lips curled back to reveal charcoal-black gums. It screamed as its arms flailed wildly.
Jacob aimed center mass and pulled the trigger. Feeling no recoil, he looked down and saw that his rifle’s bolt was locked back on an empty chamber. His left arm dropped down, frantically searching his chest rig for a fresh magazine. The screaming man closed the distance and became airborne, flying over the barrier as Jacob tried to feed a full magazine. The metal box slammed against the empty magazine that he’d forgotten to drop. Now fully panicked, Jacob yelped and gripped the rifle, lashing out at his attacker. James spun a half second before the creature impacted; he fired two quick shots, knocking the creature off its path and into the water.
“Well, you fucked that all up. Come on, it’s time to move, rookie,” James shouted. Gripping the first grenade in his hand, he removed the pin and threw it deep to the front. Before it detonated, James had the second pin pulled and arcing into the distance after the first.
He pushed Jacob ahead and together they ran to the small inflatable. The explosions cracked behind them in rapid succession. The gunfire softened, although the telltale sounds of rounds zipping overhead continued; the zips and pings sounded off as they harmlessly struck far away objects. Jacob ran with burning lungs down the dock’s maze of paths. As they neared the inflatable, they heard the engine running—the boat had already been turned in the water and was being held close to the dock, awaiting their return. Jacob neared its side first and poured off the wood surface, tumbling into the boat. Jesse reached out and, grabbing him, stabilized him against the rigid hull.
Jacob pushed back and let his head hang while he gasped for air. He watched as James casually stepped into the inflatable and took a seat at the controls near Rogers. He grabbed a bottle from his cargo pocket and took a long drink. He looked back at Jacob and winked. “Nice work, rook.” He slapped Rogers on the back and said, “Get us out of here. They’ll be hungry now.”
Rogers let the throttle move forward. The engine roared, causing the bow to lift out of the water. As the small boat picked up speed and smoothed out over the lake, Rogers navigated it to open water, aiming for the coastal patrol ship that sat in the dark blue waters of the lake. “Any of those friendlies get away?” Marks yelled over the engine.
James nodded. “Yes, sir; I saw three break out from the pharmacy and run for it once we joined the fight. I lost visual with them after that.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Take her in slow,” Marks ordered. “We don’t need to go getting shot up by a nervous deckhand.”
Jesse sat up, leaning forward. “Those things don’t drive boats. Why would they be nervous?”
The soldiers turned and looked at him. Rogers smiled, showing his teeth. “You’ve been out of touch, boy. Deltas can do it all now.”
“No way? Drive a boat? What about a car; can they fly?” Jesse asked.
Rogers laughed. “Everything. Longer they cook, the more dangerous they are.”
“Damn,” Jesse muttered.
Jacob looked on as Jesse leaned back against him, shaking his head. Rogers eased back on the throttle. As they moved slower, the lake’s swells became more apparent, the boat rising and falling on the water. Objects on the large ship quickly came into view. Rogers killed the throttle, allowing the boat to glide
along the surface toward a back corner of the ship. Two men on deck in digital-blue camouflage ran to the rail, one holding a shotgun at the ready, the other a bright flashlight. The man with the light leaned forward and aimed the beam.
“You all know the drill,” a sailor shouted down at them.
Everyone turned and opened their mouths into the beam of light. The sailor scanned their faces then lowered his light and tossed a line. James caught the other end and held the inflatable close to the ship then tied it off to the ladder, steadying it as Marks reached up and placed a boot on the ladder’s rung. Once he was away, Jacob climbed up next, following the lieutenant until he was on the deck of the ship.
Jacob moved away from the others and pushed against the rails. The deck was large and gray with a building structure just to the left, a hatch door pinned open. Across from him was a large machine gun. A sailor stood watch over it while looking out toward the shoreline with a pair of binoculars. Another sailor emerged from the hatch, rushing to Jacob’s side and helped him out of his rucksack. Others gathered around, lending a hand to carry their gear through the hatch. They were ushered down a passageway and into the ship’s galley where they were directed to large round tables. Jacob followed his team to the front and found a seat at the end of the first row.
Sailors at the front of the galley filled white porcelain cups from a large stainless steel cylinder and handed them out to the waiting men. A young sailor, barely twenty, looked down at Jacob as he passed him a cup of steaming coffee. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any chewing gum, would ya?”
“Uh, no,” Jacob answered.
The sailor bit his lip and nodded. “Okay. Well, if you come across any, think of me, okay? I can trade you for it,” the sailor said, walking away. Jacob held the cup to his lips and sipped as he looked over at Jesse sitting across from him. His friend shrugged his shoulders and tried to hold back a laugh. “No chewing gum? Damn, these guys got it rough,” he whispered.