“Thank you, first sergeant.”
“It’s part of the job, major.”
McDaniels nodded again and concentrated on the route ahead. He suddenly remembered Finelly and Derwitz served in the same unit, and he turned to look at the big, blond-haired soldier driving the van.
“Finelly, are you—”
“Good to go, sir. Losing Derwitz sucks, but it’s not like we were tight buddies. But I think he did pretty damn well today, didn’t he?”
“I’ll be putting him in for a silver star, for damned sure.”
Finelly nodded and drove on silently. McDaniels took the time to examine his M4 before they arrived at the next intersection. He wanted to ensure it was 100% operational before stepping out of the van. He heard Gartrell and Rittenour doing the same, changing out magazines and cycling the weapons to make certain their actions weren’t getting fouled.
Ahead, a barricade separated the street from the intersection The NYPD tow truck smashed through it at well over forty miles an hour, sending wooden saw horses and sand bags flying. The rig hurtled into the intersection on the other side, sending a police cruiser pinwheeling away. The tow truck slammed into the vehicles in the intersection and knocked several of them askew. The rig’s reverse lights snapped on, and the vehicle rolled back for another run. Through his NVGs, McDaniels saw the zombies stumbling toward the truck from the various shops and alleyways. Dozens of them. He heard Earl gasp from the bench seat behind him, and he guessed the janitor caught a glimpse of the shapes in the reverse lights’ glow.
“Leary, you’ve got about forty zeds closing on you from the rear, and you still have at least two holding onto the back of the truck. Recommend you bash the shit out of everything in your way and get the hell out of there, over.”
“Workin’ on it, major,” Leary responded. “It would be awesome if you guys could hold them off me while I’m doing my job, over.”
“Finelly, stop here,” McDaniels said. Finelly tapped the brakes and brought the van to a halt two hundred feet from the intersection.
“Am I parking, or just waiting for a moment?” he asked.
“Park it. Earl, get in the driver’s seat. Ritt, come forward with me. Finelly, stand guard at the rear with Gartrell. Everyone out.”
The soldiers exited the vehicle and slammed the doors shut behind them. Rittenour joined McDaniels at the front of the van while Finelly faded back and positioned himself with Gartrell.
“What’s the op, sir?” Rittenour asked.
“You get to show me how good a sniper you are with an M4. Take those zeds off Leary’s back.”
Rittenour raised his NVGs on their mount, then looked through the night vision scope atop his M4. McDaniels kept an eye out for any zombies in the immediate vicinity, but the racket caused by the tow truck had captured the attention of every zed in the area. None of them were looking toward the van.
Yet.
Rittenour lined up for a shot, then fired one round. Downrange, one of the zombies riding in the bed of the tow truck toppled into the street. It had only been steps away from the rig’s cab, and Leary. McDaniels saw several of the zombies at the rear of the pack that was descending upon the tow truck slow and turn. They peered in the van’s direction, but in the darkness they apparently couldn’t see it.
The muzzle flash will change that, McDaniels told himself.
And right he was. Rittenour fired again, and the other zombie in the tow truck fell face first into the bed. The stenches which had been staring in the van’s direction clearly saw the flash of Rittenour’s weapon, and several of them began shambling up the street. Yet most of the horde remained fixed on the dark shape of the tow truck, it’s brake lights flashing on and off as Leary horsed the mammoth vehicle into the intersection.
“We really should have done something about those tail lights,” Rittenour said.
“We really ought to do more about the zeds headed our way,” McDaniels suggested. Following his own advice, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and prepared to fire. “Gartrell, what’s the SITREP from the rear? Over.”
“All clear for the moment, Six. Some zeds heading our way, but not enough to get panicky over. No sign of OMEN, though Finelly and I are on the lookout, over.”
“Roger that. We’re about to go loud up front.” To Rittenour: “I’ll take targets on the right side of the street, you take ones on the left.”
“Roger that. Tell me when.”
“Now.”
The two M4s cracked as the two Special Forces soldiers fired single shots at the zombies as they advanced up the street. With each shot, a zed crumpled to the wet pavement, its skull ravaged and torn; it was rare for one of the men to miss their intended target, though it did happen on occasion. The zombies approached mindlessly, completely ignorant of the fate that awaited them, exposing themselves openly to the weapons fire. That was the most frightening thing for McDaniels. This enemy was truly unyielding.
But after a few moments, more zombies turned away from the tow truck, attracted by the crackling gunfire. Moaning, they advanced up the street as quickly as their dead legs could carry them. From behind the van, McDaniels heard the rattle of Finelly’s MP5, followed a moment later by the throaty roar of Gartrell’s AA-12. Both elements were in contact now.
“Reloading,” Rittenour said, and he pulled the empty magazine from his rifle. McDaniels only grunted an acknowledgement and kept up the fire, taking down zed after zed as they surged toward the idling van. Beyond them, the tow truck continued battering its way through the clogged intersection, backing over zeds as Leary reversed the rig for another run. It didn’t render the zeds completely ineffective, but it did make it much more difficult for them to harry the Special Forces sergeant as he did his work. That gave McDaniels an idea.
“Ritt, how much do you think that van weighs? Three, four tons, maybe?”
“About four and a half tons, maybe,” Rittenour said absently as he slapped another magazine into his M4 and charged it up. He shouldered the weapon and resumed firing as McDaniels’ weapon went dry.
“Reloading,” McDaniels said, and went through the process. “Leary, let me know when you’re done with that intersection, over.”
“Almost done, Six,” Leary responded.
“Six, we’re getting a hell of a lot of attention back here,” Gartrell said over the radio. “We might want to displace from this position over.”
“Great idea, first sergeant. Have Finelly return to the van right now, over.”
“On it, over.”
“Crossing over,” McDaniels said to Rittenour, and Rittenour lifted his M4 so McDaniels could slip by in front of him. Once the black major was clear, he dropped the weapon back into position and returned to firing on the stenches. McDaniels slipped slightly on the expended cartridges littering the street.
“What’s up, sir?” Finelly asked as he ran to the driver’s door and pulled it open. Earl immediately vacated it.
“I want you to blast a path through those zeds with the van,” McDaniels told Finelly as he climbed into the vehicle’s cab. “The rest of us will follow on foot and keep the zeds at bay as best as we can, but right now, we need to bull a path through those things, and this van ought to be heavy enough to do it.”
“Roger that,” Finelly said. “You want me to go now?”
“Rittenour, get out of the way!” McDaniels yelled, then nodded to Finelly as Rittenour did as instructed. “Do it, we’ll be right behind you.”
Finelly closed the driver’s door, dropped the van into gear, and took off. Behind it, Gartrell turned, startled by the vehicle’s sudden departure.
“Don’t worry, first sergeant, no one abandoned you,” McDaniels said. “We need to use the van as a weapon now to bull through these zeds, otherwise we’re going to run out of ammo. Let’s follow the van to the intersection.”
“Got that,” Gartrell said, firing one last blast at the zombies advancing from the rear. “Still no sign of OMEN, which has me fairly p
erplexed.”
“Understood, and we’ll continue worrying about that, but if they never show up, I’m all for it. Rittenour, ready? Let’s go!”
The three soldiers sprinted after the van as it slammed into the zombies in the street. It was a horrific sight; bodies flew everywhere, and the van bucked up and down like a bronco that refused to be broken, crushing bodies beneath its knobby tires. Other zombies threw themselves at the vehicle as it passed them, but they merely bounced off the vehicle’s sturdy frame and crashed to the street. The soldiers following the van made short work of them, eliminating them easily as they slowly clambered back to their feet. From behind, more zombies massed, but even the most fleet of them were unable to match the pace of the living. Just the same, Gartrell dropped back every now and then to fire some rounds behind them, taking down those ghouls which managed to get too close.
“Major, I’m through the intersection up here,” Leary said. “But I’m not too confident about the next one. I’ve beaten this rig to hell, and it’s about to go tango uniform, over.”
“What’s the problem, Leary? Over.”
“Busted radiator, Six, and a definitely messed up front end. Don’t worry though, I’m not going to baby it. Let’s just get rolling, over.”
“Hold up for us for as long as you can, we’re still dismounted. The van is almost at the intersection, we’re on foot about a hundred feet behind it, will be on board in about sixty seconds, over.”
“Six, I can’t sit here for sixty seconds, there are too many of these zeds around me. Gotta roll, over.”
“Understood, you’re good to relocate. We’ll be right behind you, over.”
As the trio ran up the dark street, firing at any zeds which posed even a remote threat, McDaniels heard the tow truck’s diesel engine roar as it accelerated down the street toward the intersection with First Avenue. After that, there were only two more intersections left to clear, York and East End avenues. They were getting there.
We might just make it out of here yet.
As Gartrell fired another salvo to their rear, he made a puzzled sound over the radio. McDaniels glanced back, and saw the first sergeant staring back the way they had come.
“Gartrell, move your ass!” he barked.
“Roger. Thought I saw something back there, just wanted to check it out.”
They made it to the van and climbed in. As they did, Rittenour noticed Derwitz’s body, still lying in the back.
“Shit, we forgot to dump Derwitz,” he said as he climbed over the dead trooper.
“We’ll do it at the next intersection,” Gartrell said. “Take his weapons and gear, we’re going to need everything he’s got.”
“Roger that,” Rittenour said, slamming the rear door closed just as a zombie hurled itself against them. The van bounced on its shock absorbers as several of them attacked the vehicle, pounding on it with their fists.
“Let’s go, Finelly!” McDaniels said.
The van’s tires spun as the vehicle accelerated forward, running right over those zombies standing before it. McDaniels bounced up and down in his seat, and grabbed onto the rollover handles with both hands to keep from being thrown against the dashboard. Finelly fought with the steering wheel, his teeth clenched, his eyes hidden behind his night vision goggles.
Ahead, the tow truck accelerated down the street, trailing a plume of steam. It also left a wake of damaged, twitching bodies, scores of zombies that had tried to stop the vehicle by throwing themselves in front of it. McDaniels wished more of them had the opportunity to do so, for even zeds couldn’t move that fast with broken backs and legs. The van bounced again as it rolled over the jerking corpses. From behind his seat, McDaniels heard someone retch, and a moment later, the sickening reek of vomit filled the van. Gartrell swore.
“I’m sorry,” Safire said. “I’m claustrophobic, and the motion of the van—” He broke off and vomited onto the van’s floor again. His daughter patted him on the back, murmuring comforting words.
“Rittenour, have you stripped Derwitz’s body of his gear?” McDaniels asked, just to keep his mind off the smell of the vomit and the fact that it made him want to puke as well. He couldn’t even roll down a window to get some fresh air inside. As if reading his thoughts, Finelly flipped on the fans.
“Almost done with that, but haven’t had the time to go through his pack,” Rittenour said.
“He’s got MREs, spare NVG batteries, ten clips of nine millimeter for his MP5, another four clips for his pistol, an IR strobe with spare batteries, a flight helmet…” Finelly recited every item as if he were reading from a shopping list.
“Make sure you get his goggles and give them to Earl,” McDaniels told Rittenour. “And hurry the hell up, we don’t want him turning while he’s still in the van!”
“That’s a no shit circumstance, major,” Rittenour said.
“Six, I’m at the intersection of First Avenue,” Leary announced over the radio. “I’m working it over now, over.”
“Roger that, Leary. We’ll do the same thing as before, deploy a bit behind you and try to draw the zeds off, over.”
“Much obliged, major.” Anything else Leary said was drowned out by the rending crunch of metal that blasted over the radio link before Leary ended his transmission. Ahead, McDaniels watched the tow truck surge into the intersection. And as before, stenches practically popped up everywhere, rising from behind dead vehicles, stumbling out of shops, or falling out of the sky. McDaniels had no idea how many of them there were, but counting those to the rear of the van, it must have been thousands.
This is going to get worse before it gets any better.
“Halt here. Troops, dismount,” he ordered, and he threw open his door. He did not take the time to conduct a proper scan, and for his trouble he was immediately attacked by a zombie that rushed the van from the sidewalk. In life, the zed had probably been a healthy teenage boy. In death, it was just another vile scarecrow looking for a meal. McDaniels swore and grappled with the ghoul as it slammed into him, driving him back against the van. His feet slipped out from under him, and he crashed to the asphalt on his butt. It was cold and wet. As he struggled to get his M4 turned on the grotesquerie, he felt its teeth scraping across his helmet as its hands raked across his face and tore away the night vision goggles. From the rear of the van, there was a shout from Rittenour, and then a scream from Regina, followed by a pealing cry from Earl’s daughter. McDaniels ignored it and concentrated on getting his feet back under him, then launched himself upright like a jack-in-the-box. At the same time, his hand came up behind the ghoul’s neck, and its jaws parted wide, exposing a slash of blackness that McDaniels saw even without his goggles. He spun and slammed the zombie into the side of the van face-first with all his strength. As it the ghoul rebounded, McDaniels stepped back and drew his sidearm. He double-tapped the corpse in the head at extremely close range. The zombie collapsed to the ground like an uprooted telephone pole.
There was a single gunshot from the rear of the van, and McDaniels ran to the rear to see what the situation was. He was shocked to find the bullet-pocked doors were closed and locked. Where the hell were Gartrell and Rittenour?
“What the hell is going on in there?” McDaniels said over the radio.
The doors opened and McDaniels stepped back, snapping his NVGs back into place. Derwitz’s body rolled out of the back of the van and slammed to the asphalt. The back of his head was missing. Rittenour stepped outside, followed by Gartrell.
“What the fuck happened?” McDaniels asked, glancing at the men before scanning the street for threats. And they were there, ghouls skulking along the sidewalks, advancing toward the idling van. Apartment buildings stood like gigantic, silent sentinels all around them, dwarfing the van. In the near distance, the tow truck’s engine bellowed as the rig slammed into cars.
“Derwitz reanimated before we could dump him,” Gartrell said.
“And he fucking bit me,” Rittenour added, a slight edge of pa
nic in his voice. He ripped off his left glove and held up his hand before his NVGs. He groaned.
“Skin’s broken,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Holy fuck, I could be infected…”
“You’re going to be dinner if you don’t man up and soldier, troop. Stay here with Gartrell, and zero some stenches!” McDaniels turned and ran back to the front of the van. He took his position off the front right fender and glanced to his left, visually checking to ensure that Finelly was in his assigned position.
“Zeds coming in from the left,” Finelly reported.
“Coming in from the right, too. This is a residential area. More deadheads knocking around. Shit, I thought everyone had evacuated this far up.” McDaniels shouldered his rifle and started firing. The rest of the soldiers did the same.
There was nothing else they could do.
CHAPTER 28
“Boats are ready to go in the water, skipper,” Lieutenant Petersen told Hassle.
“We’re not ready for anyone to go ashore just yet,” Hassle told him. “Until we hear from the Army guys, no coastie goes into the water.”
Petersen nodded. “Understood. Just wanted to make sure you knew everyone was ready when you give the word.”
“I appreciate that. Anything from the deck lookouts?”
“Only that there are bodies in the water, and that some of them are still moving. Every now and then, one bumps into the boat and tries to get aboard, but of course, they can’t.” The Escanaba’s sheerline was almost ten feet above the waterline, and the waves in the East River weren’t sufficient to propel any of the zombies onto the cutter’s aft deck.
“Captain, we’re attracting a lot of attention.” Lieutenant Commander Sullivan motioned Hassle to the front of the bridge and pointed to the flat screen displays that carried the FLIR feed. Hassle stepped up beside his XO with Petersen shadowing him. He looked down at the screens. Sure enough, all along the riverside, packs of the dead had collected, and those packs were growing. The fence on the FDR Drive kept most of them back, but there were more than a few lurking around the pilings and piers below the cement breakwaters.
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