So It Begins (Defending The Future)

by James Chambers

  “Or we can search for an extension ladder,” said Dorna.

  “Well, if you want to do things the easy way,” replied Lao with a smile.

  “They keep the ladders in the tool shed,” said Gail, who had walked over to hear better. “Do you think you can get everyone out?”

  “We’re going to try . . .” started Shaker.

  “Absolutely,” said Hastings. “Problem is, we have to keep you safe, and bringing you with us to take the building isn’t going to do that.”

  “I don’t want to be left alone,” Gail said.

  “I understand, but if we leave someone behind with you, there is less chance of us living long enough to get to the people inside the building. The shed looks strong. We could have you lock it from the inside and open it when we come back for you,” said Hastings. “How does that sound?”

  “Scary,” said Gail.

  “Good. Scared is good. It’ll make you careful, help keep you alive.” Hastings took out her personal sidearm, took off the safety, and handed it to the girl. “Do you know how to shoot?”

  Gail nodded. “My daddy taught me.”

  “Good. This has twenty shots. Only use them if you have to. The noise will attract more deaders.”

  “But you’ll come back for me?” asked Gail.

  “We will,” said Shaker.

  “You have my word that we will not leave you behind,” said Hastings.

  “Okay,” said Gail.

  Dorna used her stemmers to move into the masses of deaders and attack. The best the remote could manage was randomized blows which were almost totally ineffective, so Dorna changed tactics and had the stemmers run away as living-like as the programming would allow. The fast, sudden movement triggered the prey centers of their reanimated brains and they gave chase, leaving only a handful of stragglers at the east side of the building. The quintet moved quickly with the girl between them toward the shed. Lao used his Host-issued multi-tool to cut the lock.

  Luck smiled as they pulled out an extension ladder. Hastings helped Gail get inside and showed her how to lock the doors using the chain and a bolt.

  “You’ll be back for me?” she asked again, nervously.

  Hastings made an X over her chest with her index finger. “Cross my heart. Do not open this door unless one of us tells you to.”

  Gail nodded and Hastings shut the door.

  The quintet made a mistake by running for the wall. One of the stragglers caught the movement out of the corner of his eyes and came after them.

  “Incoming five o’clock,” said Kline.

  “Everyone up the ladder as soon as we have it standing,” said Shaker.

  Lao and Shaker laid it so the top was on the sill of a third floor window.

  “Go,” shouted Shaker, hitting Lao on the back. Lao climbed as fast as he could, smashing the glass with the butt of his plasma rifle, using his gloves to clear out the shards before climbing in.

  Next up was Dorna. She left the remote below the window, but had the far end of her belt line hooked to the device. Once she was in, she reeling it up after her.

  Next up was Kline, but the deader had crossed the school field and was, approaching the soldiers.

  “Damn,” said Hastings and shot out both the dead man’s knees. It stopped his approach, but the shot of the plasma round was heard by more of the reanimated, who now converged on their position. While the first had been moving as a leisurely searching pace, the others were now racing, as were others from around the town. “Go!”

  Shaker shook his head. “My command. You go, I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Damn straight you will be,” said Hastings, pulling out her retractable beltline and hooked the clip on the back of Shaker’s battle belt. “I’ll pull you up, you pick off those deaders.”

  Shaker nodded and sat on the ladder, his back to the building. Hastings climbed up, pulling the larger man behind her. The rungs were of the self-turning variety, which made the task much easier, but still a challenge for the fifty-plus-year-old woman.

  Shaker started shooting the nearest zombies and learned that Benedict hadn’t been kidding when he told them a firefight with deaders was something you never got used to. When facing down weapons that can cut them in two, human foes, and even most of the other monsters, will take cover or at least flinch as they are turned into chopped meat. The reanimated were drawn to the noise of gunfire like moths to a zapper, so shooting them only increased the frenzy of their attack. Firing at them was the one way to make sure a soldier attracted the most attention from deaders. The zombies in the back would rip apart the reanimated in front of them for a chance at gunner chow. Of course, not shooting them tended to allow the reanimated to either eat or convert their human foes. Usually both.

  Hastings barely climbed fast enough to keep Shaker out of zombie hands. The hungry dead tended to be weaker at higher motor functions. That didn’t mean they couldn’t climb ladders; it just meant they didn’t do it pretty. One tried to walk up it and fell through the rungs, so the next one managed to step over him with one foot before tripping face first. His fall allowed the female dead next in line to walk over him to get closer to the soldiers.

  Fortunately, by this point Hastings was already through the window, yanking Shaker in behind her.

  “Lift the ladder. Shake and shoot ’em off!” ordered Hastings. Working together, the quintet pulled back and pushed down, lifting the ladder and the three trapped deaders off the ground. The next wave of dead men and women reached up and pulled down hard enough to lift all five soldiers off the floor.

  Shaker and Hastings let go and opened fire, tearing the zombies on and below the ladder to bits of bone, muscle, and organ jelly. The trio of soldiers who were still holding the ladder dropped down and pulled it inside the window.

  “Try not to touch that end,” said Dorna. “Big contamination risk.”

  “Let’s secure this building ASAP and check the basement shelter,” said Shaker.

  “Do we need to guard this exit point?” asked Kline.

  “No way deaders should be able to climb up the side of the building,” said Dorna.

  “We go down one floor at a time,” said Shaker.

  And they did. The upper floors were good, but the first floor had been compromised in several sections, too many for a five-person force to secure, so they locked the steel fire doors from the stairwell to the first floor before descending to the basement.

  Shaker looked to Hastings, but the older woman nodded for him to do the honors, so he knocked.

  “Host forces here. Is anyone alive in there?” asked Shaker. “We have the area secured.”

  A bolt scrapped against metal as it was drawn back and the door opened a crack, just enough for a man with a bearded face to verify Shaker’s words.

  “Oh, thank God. I’m John Ruddy, the mayor.” He looked up. “Colonel Hastings? You came down for us yourself?”

  “How many are in there with you?” said Hastings, ignoring the reference to her former rank.

  “We lost part of the town. We got as many as we could in the shelter. There’s six hundred and twelve of us in here.” Each of the quintet’s faces lit up at how many survivors there were. “And we’ve been out of rations for two days,” said Ruddy.

  “Mayor, we’re going to need to get everyone up to the roof for evac. I’ll need those of you who can still walk to help those who can’t,” said Shaker. “Kline, call for some Harpies.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kline, using his long-range comm as the others helped the townspeople to the stairwell. Twenty minutes later, all the civilians were topside on the school roof, instructed to lie down in the center and stay away from the edges. That gave the soldiers access to watch or fire at the deaders. The civilians took up almost half of the open space. Although there was fear on their faces, there was also relief at having someone else take charge.

  “Kline, where’s the Harpy?” said Shaker.

  “Kyklopes control said ETA is two hour
s,” said Kline.

  “Why so long?” asked Lao.

  “Coordinating drop sites,” said Kline, shrugging in apology.

  “I hope we have that long,” said Dorna, looking over the roof’s edge. “The deaders are in a frenzy. They can see, hear, and smell the civilians and the original damage to the building may be worse than we thought. They are literally tearing apart the south side of the building. They keep this up and that entire wall could collapse and bring part of the roof down with it.”

  Shaker joined her at roof’s edge. “Damn it. We’re trapped. We’re only five floors up. That wall falls and they might be able to use the rubble and exposed structure to climb up to get us.”

  “Be quieter,” whispered Dorna. “You’ll panic the civies.”

  Hastings grabbed the long-range comm from Kline. “Kyklopes Control this is Colonel Hastings.”

  “Ma’am, you know your rank was stripped . . .” The air jockey’s tone was polite, but there was a condescending edge to it.

  “Shut the hell up and listen. We have six hundred plus civilians on a rooftop of a damaged building in Knob Lick that is in danger of collapse and is being overrun by deaders. We will lose the goddamned civies if we don’t have a Harpy at our position in fifteen,” said Hastings.

  “I’m sorry, only Major Benedict has the authority to change pickup schedules,” said the voice at control, without a hint of actual regret in his tone. In fact, Hastings heard a few sniggers in the background at having the architect of this disaster screwed by it.

  “Then put Benedict on now,” ordered Hastings.

  “The Major is busy right now. I will make sure he gets the message,” said Control. Hastings could practically see the smirk on his face.

  “Just because I screwed up, don’t punish these people,” pleaded Hastings.

  “Pickup will be when scheduled,” said Control, too politely.

  “Either you put Hans on this channel in thirty seconds or I relay what happened on Cascade on a planet-wide broadcast,” said Hastings.

  “You don’t have the signal power . . .”

  “But I can tap into the civilian system and broadcast on all channels. Hans cut me out of Kyklopes, but that does nothing for my personal access code for the planetary system,” said Hastings.

  “Maybe if you told me what the information was . . .” The voice on the other end had lost its cockiness and sounded nervous.

  “Keep me on hold another twenty seconds and you’ll find out along with everyone else,” said Hastings.

  In nineteen tocks Benedict was on the line. “Andie, what the hell are you doing? A Host officer even speaking of Cascade can be given the death penalty.”

  “As you know, I am no longer an officer of the Host,” said Hastings.

  “You could still be put to death,” said Benedict.

  “By who? You? That would mean you breaking your word when you promised not to kill any of my crew. Hans Benedict may be a traitor to the Sway, but an oath breaker? Come now,” said Hastings. “Besides the way things are going, I’ll probably be dead before you get your chance.”

  “What do you want?” sighed Benedict. She knew that tone and in her mind’s eye she could see him running both hands through the stubble on the top of his head in frustration.

  “Emergency evac for our civilians,” said Hastings. “Your control boys have been dicking me around. My civilians are about to become deader food.”

  “Andie, I’m sorry but you’ll have to hold the line. There are plenty waiting ahead of you. We have to take largest numbers first. One group has three hundred plus. Two groups have more than two hundred,” said Benedict. “You have sixty.”

  “Hans, I have over six hundred,” said Hastings. The line went to dead silence. “Hans?”

  Dead air broadcast for another minute before Benedict came back on. “Andie, you have my sincerest apology. You were being screwed with by members of my crew who didn’t think my amnesty was good enough for you. I was told you only had sixty. The people who did this are on the way to the brig and you have two Harpies en route to Knob Lick. ETA eighteen minutes.”

  “Good. Tell them to burn fumes.”

  “Andie?” said Benedict.

  “What?” said Hastings.

  “Nice job. I knew you were still in there somewhere. Sorry I pulled a gun on you,” said Benedict.

  “Don’t be. You were right. Maybe having the only man I ever loved threaten my life was what I needed to wake me up,” said Hastings.

  Benedict was notoriously poorly versed in the sharing of emotions normally necessary in personal relationships, being of the actions-speak louder-than-words philosophy. “Andie, I didn’t . . . You never said . . .”

  “Past tense, Hans. Hastings out.” Turning to the assembled townspeople, she said, “Harpies will be touching down in less than eighteen. We will get the weak and injured on the first drop ship, everyone else on the second.” Hastings’ eyes went wide. “We don’t have everyone yet. We have to get Gail.”

  “Ma’am, look at them down there. It’s suicide. We have to wait for the drop ship and use their guns to clear the deaders out,” said Shaker.

  Hastings hesitated, looking out across the field and frowned at what she saw. “She doesn’t have that kind of time. Look.”

  In their frenzy, the reanimated had accidentally knocked holes in the wooden shed the girl was hiding in. In a very human reaction, Gail made the mistake of screaming once. She instantly quieted, but it was enough for a few nearby zombies to turn their attention on the shed. The front and side walls would be kindling before very long.

  “We have to get her,” said Hastings.

  “It’ll be suicide,” said Shaker. “And it would leave the rest of the civies unprotected.”

  “You’re right,” said Hastings. “But I gave her my word. You hold the line. I’ll get her.”

  “Ma’am, I forbid it,” said Shaker.

  Hastings grinned. “Is that an order, James?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is,” said Shaker.

  “Put me on report then,” said Hastings. “Dorna, bring your want-to-be stem soldiers around here. What’s their ETA?”

  “Three minutes work?” asked Dorna.

  “Not really, so you’ll have to try to come behind and get us an exit. Maybe an old-fashioned wagon circling strategy,” said Hastings.

  “Already working on programming the moves,” said Dorna.

  Hastings nodded. “Kline, give me the end of your belt line.”

  “Why?” said Kline.

  “Once Dorna gets us back to the building, I’m going to hook it to Gail and you lot are going to pull her up here,” said Hastings.

  “No, we’ll use it to pull both of you back up here,” said Shaker.

  “Works for me. Just because I’m going on a suicide run doesn’t mean I want to die,” said Hastings. “Everyone but Lao get a rake ready to blow those deaders to hell.”

  Warfare always advanced weapons design. Host soldiers carried grenades and rakes. Each was designed so shrapnel from the initial explosion exploded seconds after contact with oxygen, giving lots of deadly second chances. Smaller bits of metal were also harder for a field surgeon or medic to remove, and nicked more arteries.

  Rocket launchers were still used for heavily armored targets, but for the average soldier in the field they were too bulky. Rakes were the optimal solution, the marriage of missile and grenade. Pulling the pin ignited the formerly inert solid fuel, turning it into a rocket. Sensors in the nose held off exploding in less dense materials like flesh in favor of letting the propulsion system rip enemies to shreds. A rake explosion made a grenade look like a cream pie. They weren’t used without something very solid between the launcher and the target. Each soldier carried a half dozen, one on the outside of each thigh and four on their battle belts. That left room on the belts for four grenades.

  “Why not me? Hell, I can get a grenade as far as a rake. I have the best arm on the station,” said Lao.


  “I know. I saw your baseball stats as part of your academy records before you even arrived on Kyklopes. How else do you think I knew enough to pick a ringer for my softball team?” said Hastings.

  “Battlestation champs three years running,” said Lao, flexing his shoulder.

  “The noise of the rakes and the cover fire these three are going to lay down to cover my ass is going to attract deaders by the dozens. I want you to lob grenades off the far side of the building as far away as you can manage at reasonable intervals once our rakes are spent. With luck the dueling noise will confuse them or they’ll go toward the louder explosions, which will hopefully have the added bonus of stopping their destruction of the building. Everyone give Lao three of your grenades. I of course expect you to try for maximum deader damage with each toss rather than wasting them purely for a distraction,” said Hastings.

  “I won’t let you down, ma’am,” said Lao.

  “I know you won’t, Flauker,” said Hastings. “Now let’s tenderize us some deaders.”

  Four rakes did a nice job clearing the field, but they were limited in that the soldiers didn’t want them going off too close to the already weakened walls of the school or the rapidly splintering wood of the tool shed. Human soldiers would be corpses or at least bleeding out after the barrage from the hand missiles. Many of the deaders had lost enough parts to make locomotion difficult, but some were managing, their limbs hanging on by slivers of tendons.

  Hastings lowered herself by her primary beltline to the ground, pulling the end of Kline’s line with her. The first explosion from the far side of the school covered the sound of her plasma round to the pelvis of a deader that had spotted her. It blew apart the bones so the legs had nothing to stabilize them and the zombie collapsed to the ground. A second round to the head stopped it from crawling after her as she cut her line to run toward the shed. The half dozen deaders nearest to the wooden shack were untouched. Getting them would have meant risking killing the girl. None of them left their positions because their primitive brains knew there was prey inside the shed, so they were not distracted by things that went boom.

  Adrenaline pumping through her let Hastings move like a woman half her age, closing the gap and picking off two zombies with as many shots, blowing gray matter in streams through the exit wounds in the opposite sides of their skulls.