The Shores Of The Dead: Omnibus Edition

by Josh Hilden

  Brandon St. Andrew was twelve years old and he was not sure that he would live to see thirteen. When all of this shit had started he had been on a hike through the Appalachian Trail with his scout group. They had been camped just off of the main trail when a group of hunters had come stumbling into camp. The four men had been horribly wounded and Mr. Rowland the scout leader had tried to help them. The men had attacked Mr. Rowland and the other scouts, taking them down one by one. Brandon had lead a small group of his friends back to the small rangers cabin they had passed a few hours ago and they had barricaded themselves inside. When the sounds of the dead following them had gotten close Brandon had volunteered to be the one to try to lead them away and find help, he was the oldest by two years and the one in best shape.

  Now Brandon wished he had just stayed in the Cabin and waited for help. It had been more than thirty hours and he had been unable to pause for more than half an hour before the things that used to be his friends were on him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to go on for much longer.

  In the early light of dawn he saw the observation platform high in the tree that was less than a hundred yards ahead of him, and the rope ladder was down. He threw every last scrap of energy he had into his legs and sprinted for the ladder. As soon as he hit the trunk he shimmied up as fast as he could almost but thankfully not quite dropping his back pack to the ground. Just as Mr. Rowland shambled up to the base of the tree he pulled up the rope ladder and passed out from exhaustion.

  When he woke it was midday and the sun felt good after the long cold night he had endured. He took two measured swallows from his almost empty canteen and then looked over the edge of the platform. Below him were all four of the hunters in there day glow orange jackets and all of the scouts that he had not left back at the Rangers cabin. They moaned and reached for him but they were a good twenty feet below and even if they could climb, which he doubted, they had nothing to grab onto.

  For the first time since he had lead his charges from the campsite horror show he opened his pack and assessed his material assets. One compass, one Multitool, one canteen almost empty, binoculars, lighter, emergency fishing gear, an extra set of socks and underwear, and then he saw the leather case about the size of a shaving kit that if his mother had known he had packed it she would have skinned him alive. It was his “Wrist Rocket” sling shot and one hundred steel ball bearings.

  When his big brother Pat had bought it for him he had told him that at less than fifty feet the sling shot could hit as hard as a .22 caliber pistol. Brandon took the sleek black aluminum and plastic contraption out and lowered the brace onto his forearm. He loaded one of the ball bearings into the leather pouch that sat at the ends of the two lengths of high tension rubber. And then he aimed it at Mr. Rowland’s head and pulled back.

  “Sorry sir.” He said and let the shot fly.

  There was a sick crunching sound and a small hole appeared in Mr. Rowland’s forehead. The man crumpled and moved no more. Brandon cheered and loaded the next round, this one hit a scout in the throat and it had no effect. This worried Brandon so he shot another in the chest and it also had no effect. Then he thought of Mr. Rowland’s head wound and aimed for a head shot, the target dropped.

  “I got you now assholes!” Brandon cried and took them all down in twenty minutes. Five days later, after reaching a small hill town and learning the scope of the crisis, he returned to the cabin where the other boys waited and told them what had happened. He still had all one hundred ball bearings, each carefully dug out of their targets. He and the other scouts dug in around the cabin, the woods were their realm after all.

  Book Three

  The Final Stand

  Chapter One

  1

  South of the Mackinaw Bridge

  Lower Michigan

  November 21, 2012 AD (Day Thirty Five)

  3:30am EST

  They slogged through hundreds of miles of countryside and did their best to avoid all urban areas unless they were hunting for supplies or responding to requests for help. Now the Rangers were taking a well-deserved rest before embarking upon the next, and maybe hardest, portion of their trek north.

  The encampment was quiet. To an outside observer it would’ve seemed they were being lax in their security measures. But they’d been on the road together for a long time, and under the less then gentle tutelage of Clay Sanford, they’d come together as a cohesive unit. The sentries were all hidden away from prying eyes, they used salvaged night vision goggles and red filtered flashlights to keep an eye on the countryside. Special squads of three were dispatched into the night to silence any of the Dead that might happen to wander by without attracting the attention of others, whether they were living or Dead.

  Their numbers had more than doubled since they departing the city of Belleville, taking most of the former residents with them. The majority of the new Rangers were the survivors from the fallen Hession Compound. It was the information provided by these people which allowed the Rangers to skirt around the Army of the Dead, and arrive at the bridge ahead of them. The decision had been made that they would begin the clearing of the barricades and the crossing of “Big Mac” at dawn. Tensions and excitement amongst the rangers was high.

  Kyle sat on top of a former city of Detroit bus. They’d found it 100 miles South, devoid of people and with the keys still in the ignition. After a quick paint job and the addition of some armor, it was a welcome addition to the convoy. He was playing the night vision binoculars across the landscape of fresh snow glowing in the moonlight, when he heard someone climbing the ladder inside the bus to the roof hatch. He turned to see his sister poke her head.

  “Want some company?” She asked and then climbed up before he could answer yes or no. She settled down next to him and drew her own binoculars from the field jacket she was wearing.

  “Ben sleeping?” He asked putting his own optics down.

  “Yep, he’s been pushing himself hard in the hand to hand training,” She added defensively.

  “No complaints from me or Clay, Ben works harder at the drills than almost anyone else.” He didn’t want her upset, Jennifer tended to be very touchy about her new husband if she felt he was being insulted. They’d been married by Liam three days before, when they had been enjoying a brief break after making it all the way around the Army of the Dead. Kyle was the best man, and Scarlet the maid of honor.

  Jennifer nodded and then asked, “When are you guys getting married?”

  Kyle rolled his eyes in the dark. His sister had been pushing the two of them to make it official since the engagement. Both he and Scarlet wanted to wait until they’d settled somewhere before they did it. “We are not having this conversation again Jennifer,” He said flatly.

  She started to laugh and that surprised him. She’d been doing that more since the wedding. “Funny, your woman told me the same thing half an hour ago. Then she made me get out because she said I was going to wake the baby.” He did a double take at the grin that was splitting her face.

  “What do you think about the plan?” She asked him and the grin disappeared. They’d been debating the plan since confirming the stories about the Army of the Dead were true. Some people wanted to change direction when they crossed the bridge. Head for Sault Saint Marie and then cross into Canada. Kyle and Liam had talked everyone around, and they were still heading for White River. But there had been a new twist added. It was a twist born in the mind of Jennifer Millette.

  “I think it’s dangerous, and it’s going to leave us exposed for too damn long on that fucking bridge.” He grumbled and then added, “But if it works, it’s going to make things a little easier to handle, at least in the short run.”

  They were all boggled by the revelation that the Army of the Dead was not frozen in place. Ever since the temperatures dropped below 18 degrees things were safer. The Dead were frozen, and the Rangers had been smashing them as they found them. But when they’d scouted the Army of the Dead they saw tens of thous
ands of the Dead up and moving as if it were a balmy 80 degrees. Add into the mix the artillery and armored fighting vehicles the Army was sporting, and it was no wonder everyone they’d run into up here in the area of the bridge was scared shitless.

  “If we leave things as they are right now, the Bridge is going to provide a direct route for the Dead to follow us. The population of the Upper Peninsula was small before the Dead Rose, but the South was pretty densely populated.” Jennifer said, and brought out a thermos and poured them both cups of hot instant coffee.

  “I didn’t say that it was a bad plan, I just think it’s dangerous.” Kyle said a little petulantly. He was not used to giving in to his sister when they disagreed.

  “Well as it happens I agree with you, but it still needs to be done.” She said, and then they both watched the night without talking. Things had changed for them since the Rise of the Dead. Before they’d been family but always antagonistic with one another. Now they were tighter than any two people that didn’t share a bed could be. She was his best friend and he was hers.

  Tomorrow would be the biggest test of what they had forged on the journey.

  Chapter Two

  1

  North of the Mackinaw Bridge

  Upper Michigan

  November 22, 2012 AD (Day Thirty Five)

  5:25am EST

  Snow was heavy on the ground. The roads outside of White Harbor had not been plowed at all. The decision was made to preserve fuel at all costs. In some places two feet of snow covered the ground, and the convoy heading south was forced to inch their way behind the Bitch. The monster plow had been painted white and brown to blend in with the background, making it harder for the enemy to see them.

  The scouts sent south to locate this “Army of God” returned three days ago with a tale of horror to tell. They brought 31 refugees with them who’d escaped their enforced servitude in the Army, and they’d reported the fall of Hession to the Council in White Harbor. Many of the Wolverines took it hard. In the time they’d spent inside the safety of the Hession Compound, they’d made friends and more than a few romances begun.

  Lt. Colonel Lisa Sutton was silent. She’d not slept more than two hours at a stretch in the last three days. The dreams were coming in a rapid machine gun fashion, and it was all she could do to make herself lay her head down and try to sleep. There was more weight on her shoulders now than at any other moment in her life. Aside from the dreams, she thought she was handling it all as well as could be expected.

  But every time that she slept, it was a variation of the same theme. She followed Sandy’s voice as she tried to climb her way up a jungle mountain in a torrential rain storm.

  “Are you doing alright boss?” Sam asked from the driver’s seat. With Rich leading the combat detachment as they attempted to secure White River and evacuate the people, Sam was her sole confidant. Capshaw was left in charge of the Militia in White River, with Nancy to help organize things inside the perimeter for the evacuation that seemed more and more likely as the rumors were confirmed.

  “Just wool gathering Sam, anything new?” She asked, gesturing to the headphones around his neck.

  “Nothing new except hundreds of the dead frozen to the ground” He hesitated and then plowed forward, “The things are frozen but they still seem to be trying to move and feed.” He shivered.

  “There is something beyond science going on here and we all know it.” She said.

  “I can't argue with that Boss.” He said then perked up as he heard something on the radio. He moved the headphones back over his ears and concentrated.

  “We have company boss. The scouts report that there is a column of…well they say it appears to be a small army on the south end of the bridge.” He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

  Lisa looked thoughtful and then said, “Well let’s go find out if they be friend or if they be foe.” She laughed a little, when they had been girls she and Sandy loved playing pirate. Sam gave the appropriate orders and the convoy moved forward with the Bitch leading the way.

  2

  On the Mackinaw Bridge

  Upper Michigan

  November 22, 2012 AD (Day Thirty Five)

  7:05am EST

  Two Bradley fighting were vehicles parked side by side across the middle of the bridge. Both of their 25mm cannons were pointed right at the lead elements of the Rangers’ caravan. The pods for the TOW anti-tank missiles were visible on the turrets, but Liam was pretty sure they were empty. He could see several other vehicles obviously been armored since the Rise of the Dead. They were backing up the armored fighting vehicles and the half dozen infantrymen spread out around them.

  “I really wish we had a couple of helicopters to do some proper fucking recon.” Liam growled as he lowered the binoculars and set them on the hood of the Hummer.

  “There was no way our people could get close enough to see what they had last night.” Jennifer said, picking up the binoculars and checking things out for herself.

  “Oh, we could have gotten closer. But at the time, I decided that checking out the movements of the Army of the Dead was a little more important than pushing everyone we had at a bridge that was deserted yesterday.” Kyle said. They all heard the irritation in the young man’s voice. He took his command over the recon elements of the Rangers very seriously.

  “Jennifer is right.” Liam said, turning to look at him. Every time he saw him he thought of his son Jake. He missed him and his sister every day, but now he had this surrogate family to take care of. “There was no way we could know there were apparently military elements still active up here.” He shifted his weight on the cane, his leg always hurt when the weather got colder and it was nearing zero at the moment.

  “Maybe,” Kyle said reluctantly, and then he was all business. “Do we approach and try to talk, or do we try and find another way across the straits?”

  “I say we talk,” Jennifer piped up.

  “I agree with Jen,” Clay Sanford said from the map he was studying. “We would have to hunt for boats, and I bet most of them are gone. Plus there is still the plan to consider, I think its completion is essential.” The big man rarely spoke up without being asked, but when he did they had all learned that it behooved them to listen.

  “My people wouldn’t have too hard of a time cobbling something together to float us across.” Kelly offered. The miracles that she and Benny could wring out of their cadre of mechanics and engineering students were nothing short of amazing.

  “I say we talk,” Liam said and then looked at Kyle, “What do you think Kye?” It was important that they agreed with one another when they addressed the other Rangers.

  “Yeah, I agree. But we need to be careful.” Kyle said and the others all nodded at him in confirmation. It had been a long time since any of the Rangers dismissed Kyle’s opinion. And since the incident at Belleville, they’d all begun to see him as their good luck talisman. Liam thought they would mourn him if he died, but that they would be terrified if they lost Kyle.

  They gathered the Rangers together and discussed what had been decided. Group conferences were the standard procedure in the Unit if time and circumstances permitted.

  “Who goes forward?” Jennifer asked.

  “I say Kyle and Clay.” Dr. Aten said.

  Kyle was startled by the suggestion, and then even more startled when he saw that every other Ranger nodded in agreement. He looked over at Liam to see if he would object, and was shocked to see that even he thought that Kyle was the perfect choice. There was little arguing, once a decision was made by the assembled Unit. Things tended to happen quickly.

  15 minutes later, Clay Sanford and Kyle Carson were walking down the center of the mammoth bridge. They trundled through almost a foot of accumulated snow. Clay was carrying one of the M-4 Carbines from Wright Patterson, and Kyle was holding a reasonably white bed sheet attached to the end of a long shovel.

  “For the record, sir, I don’t know if this approach is the best id
ea.” Clay said as he deliberately kept the muzzle of the rifle pointed away from the fighting vehicles and squad of soldiers.

  “Maybe not, but considering that they hold the bridge, I figure the soft approach might be the best. Plus they have to know that the rest of the Rangers are covering us. We aren’t exactly unarmed.” Kyle said. Then he almost stumbled in the snow, but the big man deftly stabilized him and grinned. Clay definitely thought the kid had the makings of a damn fine officer in him. It’d been Kyle’s idea to mount the two 50 caliber machine guns they’d appropriated at the foot of the bridge, with a clear field of fire if anything went wrong.