Keep Your Crowbar Handy

by SP Durnin

  Jake spat on the raider's body while checking to make sure the other guards weren't going to cause them any more trouble. The ladies had taken care of them both, almost without a sound. Then they ran the hundred yards back towards the abandoned school bus east of the plant to retrieve the girls' clothes and weapons. As they reached it, he held one fist in the air and faced the north. Up on the ridge behind the plant, a dim, red flashlight flicked on and off twice. Then twice again. There was a short pause then the light flashed four times and didn't return.

  That was the signal that Foster had taken out the remaining sentry with his Longarm sniper rifle and the outside of the facility was clear for the moment. They decided once Kat and Elle drew the trio in front outside, George (with Laurel watching his back from the turret of the Hummer) would take the rearguard out. After their companions moved inside—making sure to lock the gate behind them—Laurel and the fixer would keep watch until Jake's group retrieved the others. Although a little miffed she wasn't going along, the redhead didn't really mind remaining on the ridge above. From that vantage point, she'd be able to watch for any hostiles (dead or alive) and could warn the others, via the secure radios she and Jake wore.

  The fact that only five of the raiders remained within the building, had prompted the writer to change plans. Waiting for the rest of their party in the Mimi to arrive would only give the raiders more time alone with their friends. Jake and Foster had discussed it and come to the decision that, even though outnumbered, he and the two girls should be able to surprise the half-drunken hostiles and make hamburger out of them. They'd all had basic room-clearing training—Jake and Kat via Foster, and Elle by way of the United States Military. So down into the belly of the beast strode and crawled the three survivors.

  It wasn't fun, quietly slithering through two hundred yards of drainage ditch, especially the drainage ditch of a sewage plant, but Jake had done it. It had been the only way he could get close enough to back up the girls without being seen. There was a large field, sans anything resembling cover, between the ridge where they'd scouted the plant and the area they'd planned to neutralize the guards. While he might not have been seen if he just crouched over, Jake wasn't willing to risk Elle and Kat's lives on a maybe. So, an hour prior, he'd crept into the ditch just inside the tree line, and struck out through the soggy mess at the bottom. He'd only had to think about all the fun he'd had training with the SAS, and the greasy, rot-infused muck covering the lower third of the ditch hadn't seemed too bad. For the first sixty yards anyway. After that, the slime had taken on the distinct (and much more potent) aroma of death and, well, crap.

  Oh yeah. Become a civilian combat journalist, Jake thought, as he'd slid quietly through the foul-smelling gunk. Live a life full of glamour, fame, and excitement. More like mud, shit, and fucking terror. I should've been a dentist...

  As the girls dressed and donned their weapons again, Jake moved towards the sewage plant's gate, scanning the inner grounds carefully for any sign of movement. By the time Kat and Elle approached silently, he was sure there wasn't anyone (or thing) lurking in ambush, so the three moved into the facility proper.

  Jake went first, followed closely by the Kat, with the blonde sergeant playing rearguard. They paused and gave Elle time to snap a master lock through the gate's bar, securing the courtyard and preventing anyone from fleeing the area, then made for the primary building's side door. When they reached it, she used the thermal scope to check the space beyond. The last five raiders were all on the opposite side of the building in what looked to be the motor pool. Also, there was a block of offices inside between them and the trio seeking to gain entry. As long as they were quiet, Jake and the women had a damn good chance of catching their friends' captors unawares.

  Kat knelt before the door and pulled a lock-pick set from one of the pouches riding her web belt. She inserted one into the nob with her left hand, probing the lower part with her right using a needle-slim rod. Her eyes closed in concentration and her tongue stuck out from the side of her mouth, while she gently worked the lock's innards. Jake was both amused, and hit with a sudden wave of genuine affection, while he watched the play of emotions on her face as she attempted to gain access to the building. He was half expecting to have to pry the door open using the crowbar riding the length of his spine, but it only took her about twenty seconds to unlock it. After replacing the tools, she grinned at his raised eyebrows and silently mouthed the word Ninja.

  Jake rolled his eyes and they stacked to the right of the door. He'd learned the "stacking" technique overseas, when the crusty old SEAL had drilled his training brick over and over and over again, until they could, Fucking perform the fucking process fucking properly, as the older man so eloquently put it. The entry team lined up on the same side of the door. The second man put his hand on the first man's shoulder; the third man put his on the second man's and so on and so on. The last man in the stack readied himself, and then squeezed the shoulder of the one in front of him. Moving up the line, each man gave the one to their front the signal, until the lead man felt the squeeze on his shoulder. Then, knowing the team was ready, they entered the room. The first going left, the second right, on down the line, until the entire group was inside (preferably in three seconds or less) and they proceeded to decimate any opponents within. He took a few deep breaths, made sure the fire selector on his M4 was set on three round bursts, and waited. A few seconds later, when he felt Kat's hand squeeze his shoulder firmly, he pulled the door open, crouched and hurried inside.

  It was pretty dark in the offices, but not so much that they couldn't see to maneuver. Avoiding a half-full water cooler, the trio moved slowly down the hallway towards the far side of the building. A slim ribbon of faint light shone under the edge of the motor pool's door. It wasn't fully closed so once they reached it, Jake slowly put an eye to the gap to view the room beyond. Sure enough, a group of five men sat around a propane grill on chairs they'd removed from the offices the three had just passed. Each had a firearm, resting either against the arm of their chair or on the ground beside them, but not a single one held anything but a bottle. A couple of them were dead drunk, already passed out in their chairs.

  "So, why are we holding on to the skinny dink?" One asked.

  "Hostage," Another replied. "Poole thinks we'll be able to use him later to get their spiffy ride."

  "We got the broads for that. Besides, that guy has a big mouth. Bastard wouldn't shut up, even when Artie and me worked him over this morning."

  His companion laughed. "Heard him. Wha'd he call you? A limp-dicked, shit-gobbling, cock bandit? That was pretty funny."

  "Fuck you. I made the little bastard bleed for that one."

  Jake had heard enough. Using hand signals in the low light of the hallway so the bastards in the other room wouldn't hear them, he let Kat and Elle know what they were going to do. Both girls nodded, looking pretty pissed in their own right. The raiders' voices carried and they'd heard the comments about Allen. The three readied their weapons and began to stack at the door.

  "Any luck with the blonde bitch?"

  "Nah. After what she did to Pete, nobody wants to try her again just yet." The first one said, taking another pull on his bottle of Jim Beam before passing it to his companion. "Looks like she's gonna be a tough nut to crack."

  His friend laughed. "Oh, I've got a nut for her. Pete was stupid. As long as Poole doesn't come back until day after tomorrow, I'm gonna…"

  Nostrils flaring, Jake felt Kat's hand tighten on his shoulder. He nudged the door open and slowly edged into the room. The men were sitting facing away from the offices, which was good news for Jake's party. One of the three was so blitzed that he was looking at the ceiling singing badly to himself. The others were engaged in their conversation, so they didn't notice the newcomers until they were only thirty feet away.

  One man froze in surprise. The music fan smiled at the pretty girls. The third reached for his Bushmaster rifle.

  Jake's M4 gave
a triple huff. The raider and his rifle hit the floor, one unfired, both now unseeing. The two sleepers jerked awake at the sound of their companion hitting the concrete, fumbled for their guns, and caught a trio of rounds from the women's weapons in their chests. The music fan and Mr. Nutcracker went for their rifles as well. Jake dropped another and then the last with quick bursts to the center mass as they attempted to rise, then swept the area again, just in case.

  The only sound was the labored breathing of the first raider he's perforated. The man lay in a growing pool of blood, unable to speak due to the holes in his abdomen, trying to keep his insides from spilling out.

  Jake had never been a fan of cruelty, but there was no way he was going to waste his time trying to save this asshole who'd just bragged about working over his best friend. Stepping up beside the mortally-wounded raider, who looked at him with a mixture of fear and pain-fueled hatred, he put another three-round burst through the man's skull. The women who had been checking the other bodies, insuring none of them were just playing possum, paused as Jake executed the dying man. He turned to look at them, face filled with disgust, motioning for them to continue. He didn't need to think about what he'd just done, at least not until they'd rescued Al and the girls. There would be plenty of time to battle with his conscience later.

  They all swapped out their partial clips for full ones and began moving to the stairwell at the rear of the motor pool. When they reached the door, he signaled for a halt. "Elle, check the thermal."

  The blonde let her weapon hang against her stomach on its sling and scanned the second floor. "Looks like our sleeping friend in still in Dreamland."

  "Good. Kat, do you think you can take him alive?" Jake asked.

  The ninja-girl gave him an inquiring look.

  "I want some answers," he said.

  "As long as I can get close enough. You two might have to wait in the stairwell."

  "Let's go check. You take lead. If you think it's feasible, you deal with the guard." He gave them both cautionary looks. "I know you're both careful, but watch where you shoot if it comes to that. We don't want one of our people taking a stray round."

  The three crept up the dim stairway to the second floor and stopped outside the door. Kat crouched and, ever-so-slowly, pulled it open to peer down the hall. The sentry was still leaning against the wall, snoring softly. A single, gas-fueled Coleman lantern, set on low, sat beyond him in front of the nearest man to the door. Kat gave a double thumbs up and pushed her MP5 into Jake's hands. He began to take her arm, wanting to find out what her plan was, but got his answer as she pulled her sword. Elle was watching their rear, so she missed Laurel's friend smile and blow Jake a kiss before ghosting into the hallway.

  Jake watched as Kat crept onward, her back not quite touching the wall, not making the slightest noise. He didn't hear a thing. Not a breath, not a footstep, nothing. It was almost like she wasn't physically there anymore, but only an image in the form of a very appealing wraith, creeping closer to the slumbering raider. Once again she reversed her sword so the blade stretched out behind her shapely posterior, then continued stalking forward. Laurel's friend moved within arm's reach of the guard, and Jake hoped fervently that the man wouldn't stir. He had the raider in his sights. He would've killed the man without hesitation had Kat not set off herself, then struck the guard expertly behind the ear with the pommel of her sword. The raider fell to the floor with a quiet thump, a large knot already forming on the side of his head.

  Jake rushed forward, turned the man face down, and proceeded to frisk him. His vest held only a bottle of Tylenol, a small flask maybe half full of cheap vodka, a wallet, a partial pack of Camels, and a disposable lighter. He didn't have a firearm, or any other weapon. Not even a shitty folding knife. That was a bit strange, but Jake wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He pulled a trio of zip-ties from his Tac-vest and secured the raiders hands behind his back. Once he was sure the guard was restrained, Jake retrieved the Coleman lantern from down the hall, and Kat set about picking the lock on the first door.

  Seconds later, Kat swung the door open to reveal Maggie and Allen resting together against the far wall.

  The buxom woman held Jake's slim friend's head on her lap, smoothing his hair back from the mess the raiders had made of his face. One of Al's eyes was swollen completely shut and looked like it pained him, even in his sleep. There were numerous dark contusions covering Allen's face and his lips were split in several places, giving testament to the extent of the raiders' beating. The mechanic's nose was, thankfully, not broken and he wasn't missing teeth, but Jake had seen zombies that looked better. Maggie had a lot of blood in her hair that trailed down the side of her face, half soaking her shirt, and even from the knees up on her green fatigues. He thought she might have a nasty scalp wound, but the only obvious damage she'd taken was the red and quite swollen left side of her face. It looked like someone had popped her a good one, or given her a truly, harsh slapping. Her eyes were full of piss and vinegar as the three entered, however, and she gave them a bloody-toothed smile.

  "Am I ever glad to see you guys! I'd kiss every one of you on the lips right now, but I don't want to get blood on your mouths," she said.

  * * *

  Tracy Dixon's slippers were wearing away.

  Her pod still moved southwest. They'd been walking for weeks, slowly heading away from Columbus proper into the rural countryside.

  She hadn't taken much damage during the outbreak, unlike some of her impromptu companions. Not that any of them would care. Many displayed gory, painful wounds that would've killed normal humans outright. Bullet holes, stab wounds, missing limbs, torsos void of internal organs, all filled with fecund body fluids and maggots.

  The fly larvae were having a tough time of it though. For some reason, they seemed to be having a hard time digesting her flesh.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Though Jake badly wanted to help his friend, they still had to free Heather and Karen. "Elle, get Allen downstairs and check him out. Make sure he doesn't have any internal injuries. Mags? Are you together enough to give her a hand?"

  The blood-splattered woman nodded and helped Elle carry the semiconscious Allen gently from the room. When they'd disappeared through the stairwell door, Jake turned to find Kat already down the hall, deftly working on the other door's lock. He hurried toward her, wanting to call out but worried about the noise. Even though all the raiders were currently assuming room temperature, they were still in an unfamiliar place, in a hostile area, and needed to leave soon. He'd almost reached her, when she finished working her magic on the lock, put her picks away, stood, and pulled the door open.

  A pair of half-dressed raiders stood inside. It looked like they'd been asleep and had woken suddenly at the sound of the survivors talking in the room next door. The two men began to swing the muzzles of their weapons around, towards where Kat stood at the door.

  "Oops." She raised her eyebrows.

  Jake never stopped his forward motion. He grabbed her around her waist on the fly, snatching Kat from the doorway and spinning them away against the far wall as the raiders fired their first rounds. Bullets began chipping away at the opposite side of the hallway, knocking silver dollar size chunks off as they shattered on the reinforced concrete.

  Sheltering Kat with his body, Jake stretched around the door frame with his M4 and, hoping for a lucky shot, loosed half the weapons clip in quick, three round bursts. He swept it from side to side, trying to cover as much area as possible and cause the pair within to take cover. Another hail of bullets forced him to yank back with a hiss as one creased the top of his forearm. It wasn't a bad hit. The round had carved a shallow groove in his flesh, and it felt like someone had hit him with a white hot poker, but Jake managed to send another burst through the door before pulling back.

  Kat twisted against his arm, fumbling at the pouch on her belt and something metallic hit the floor. The sound of it bouncing was almost lost in the gunfire from wit
hin the office, as she leaned towards the increasing flurry of lead coming in their direction. Jake looked down to see her lips moving.

  Oh no, he thought, is she…counting?

  At four, Kat hurled the frag grenade into the room and firmly kicked the door shut with the sole of her biker boot.

  The explosion that followed blew the heavy door off its hinges. It slammed against the opposite wall, displaying an inner surface now perforated with dozens of holes from shrapnel released by the grenade, before falling flat to the floor with a resounding clang.

  Jake was still shielding Kat with his body as he stood, ears ringing from the blast, holding her away from the wrecked entrance. Leaning cautiously around the edge of the door with his weapon leading the way, he peeked into the room. Two ruined forms that used to be raiders were splattered messily across the far side of the office. Maggie and Elle were yelling up the stairwell for them, voices strained with worry, so he called back that everything was fine and they'd be down in a minute. Jake let his M4 hang down his back beside the crowbar from its combat strap, as the smoke flowing out of the room began to clear.

  They were still trying to catch their breath when Kat asked, "So... was it good for you too?"

  He would've laughed, if the image of her being turned into a hundred plus pounds of hamburger wasn't so terrifyingly vivid in his head.

  "That was dangerous, Kat."

  Jake's voice was so angry that Laurel's friend looked at him in surprise. He still hadn't let her loose from the protective, half-embrace and his eyes were closed. Kat didn't know it at the time, but he was trying to rid himself of the terrible image of her blood-covered body that hovered in the forefront of his mind.

  "Hey, relax!" she said jokingly, and tried unsuccessfully to turn towards him. "We all thought it was Karen and Heather in there, so there's no way I could've know about Eek and Ook with the semiautomatics. Besides, they weren't quick enough to nail me. I mean, hell-o-o? Highly trained, butt-kicking, ninja-girl here? You should know by…"