by Josh Hilden
Everyone except for Kelly had been surprised at Ben’s mechanical abilities. The young man just seemed to understand the way things worked deep in his guts. It was a little eerie.
“You know, if you were really in the Army, you’d be in deep shit for calling the commanding General Old Man to his face.” Clay Sanford said with a grin. It was just impossible for any of them to stay mad at Ben. He was like the Rangers’ mascot, except he had a bite to back up his bark.
“True, but Liam isn’t exactly a General, is he?” He asked grinning.
Liam ignored the banter between the two men. Things were about to come to a head, and he was unsure if they were going to be able to pull this off. He just thanked a God that he still didn’t believe in that they’d sent the noncombatants up to the town. Even if they won this, he had the feeling there was going to be a hell of a butcher’s bill before the day was over. He just wished that he’d been able to convince Kelly to head north as well.
All conversation stopped when a volley of multicolored fireworks burst in the skies over the southern end of the bridge. That was the signal they’d agreed on. The Dead had arrived and the fight was on.
“Alright people,” Liam said into his radio. “It’s time to get this show on the road.” He switched the band to the circuit between himself and Colonel Sutton. “I think it’s time you moved out Colonel, over.”
“Affirmative General, over,” she replied.
“Good Hunting, Lisa, out” As he keyed back over to the main circuit, he saw half a dozen vehicles including the two Bradleys begin to drive down the bridge. All he could do now was wait and hope.
Kelly silently took up a position at his side and slipped her hand into his. He didn’t look over, but he returned the squeeze.
10
Bridge Foot
6:15am EST
The first wave of the Dead fell to the prearranged traps and the withering fire of the forward units. The numbers were so vast that a hill was created by their falling bodies. The Spotters and the Militia fighters were beginning to run very low on ammunition, and it appeared there was no end to the numbers of the Dead the enemy could throw at them.
As far as Ken Michener knew there wasn’t.
He scanned the line in front of him. He could see the vehicles making up the core of the Army of the dead advancing. He knew their Hellish King and his court were in there, but they were out of his range. There was no way that his people could hold any longer, they were within range of the enemy sharpshooters, and they had begun to take losses from their fire.
“All personnel this is Eagle One, fall back to mid-point, I repeat fall back to mid-point.” He said into the microphone. Then he followed his own orders and began to retreat down the length of the bridge. When he was sure all of his people who were able to fall back had, he removed the small remote from his pocket and punched in the five digit code. At the positions they’d just abandoned, explosives strapped to a dozen five gallon propane tanks detonated. Even at 100 yards, the minimum safe distance, they all felt the heat and the shockwave of the blast.
“All right, people, now back to the rally point!” Ken screamed. They all boarded the bicycles they’d stashed, and began the ride to meet the people heading down to reinforce them. They’d lost 28 people in the action. Ken prayed the losses were not in vain. Behind them the fires burned, and the Army of the Dead was temporarily stopped.
11
The Army of the Dead
7:55am EST
Adam Baker scanned the scene before him with a stony face betraying none of what he was feeling. Inside he was pissed. Since he’d taken the Greater Mark, his emotions had become more suppressed in his service to his Dark Lord. In an abstract way that bothered him, but he just didn’t care very much most of the time.
His annoyance with the people who’d tried to block their passage across the bridge would have been considerable before being changed by the power. His Master had given him a job to do, a job more than within the scope of his powers. But something about the scene in front of him felt wrong. Those people had not been overrun. They had withdrawn in a more or less orderly fashion. Leaving his people to stop the fires so the Dead foot soldiers could cross the bridge and sing for their supper.
“Looks as if things are more or less under control now, Adam.” A smug voice said from behind him. Adam silently ground his teeth before he turned around to speak with First Minister Louis Barton.
“Yes, they do appear to be under control.” Adam said flatly.
“Well, Master Rudolph said you were the best man to command the Army and lead us to victory.” Everyone who received either the Greater or the Lesser Marks changed in some fundamental way. Adam thought it amplified the foundation of their personalities to be used in service of Ast-Murath. Barton had become even more slimy and silver-tongued than he’d been when they caught him in Ann Arbor. Where Adam had been given control of the Army and command of the Forces of God, Barton had been put in charge of the spiritual nature of their growing nation.
He conducted the rituals and sacrifices in the name of Ast-Murath. Barton was the one who went in first when they’d taken a community or overrun a refugee band and offered them the choice of joining them and taking the lesser mark. Those who refused were either enslaved and put to work or given to the beasts who had been men.
“None of this feels right,” Adam said as he turned his gaze back to the smoky ruins of the barricades at the foot of the bridge.
“What do you mean?” Barton asked. It was no secret amongst the elite that Barton thought Baker was a fool. He had been turning those who’d taken the lesser mark against him. Ashley informed Baker of this. She knew Baker could eliminate Barton with a word. Still, every time he was in the presence of the slimy pseudo priest, he wanted to draw the axe from his back, and smash in his head like a rotted melon.
“They retreated too quickly, and they did not appear to be panicked.” Adam said.
“I think you are being paranoid, Adam. They fought hard, but they were over matched. I’m sure they had exhausted their ammunition supplies trying to stop us.” Barton giggled, “I’m also sure it was a surprise to them to see the Dead under our Master’s control are not frozen where they stand.”
That was true. In the last week, everyone they had taken down had been horrified to see the Dead that Rudolph Clarke commanded were still mobile. More than one pocket of survivors had simply thrown their guns down and walked out when they realized they were ringed by thousands of the Dead. The downside was they were slaved to the pace of the mob of walking corpses.
“Perhaps I am Barton, but it is better to be cautious and proceed slowly than to throw caution to the wind and charge right into the enemies’ guns.” He might have continued in that vein, but they both felt the pull of their Master as he approached.
“Gentlemen, why are we still stalled here on this end of the bridge, instead of moving ever forward? Why have we not pursued and destroyed those that oppose us?” His voice was rising as he spoke. “Why have we not captured the whore, who sits just on the other side of the bridge, mocking us?!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled.
“My Lord Clarke,” Barton said, “I think we should have moved out an hour ago, but General Baker thinks we need to show more caution. He feels we may be walking into a trap.” There was a smarminess in his voice that brought forth some of the old fire in Adam Baker.
“Lord Rudolph, I feel that it is better to move forward with our eyes open, rather than plunge into the fire with them shut tight.” Baker sounded calm and measured, but Rudolph Clarke scared him and he knew his Master’s volatile nature was unpredictable at best. He tensed and was not disappointed by Rudy’s response.
“General Baker,” Rudy began, and when he drew the branding iron from inside his trench coat, Adam stiffened and Barton took two steps back. Rudy jabbed it at Adam with every third word. “I want you to order my Army forward and sweep the enemy from out of our path. I want you to smash through their
pitiful defenses and capture the Slut Whore! And then, Adam, we are going to finish what my predecessor started, and free the One True God from bondage, and then I will rule this FUCKING WORLD!”
Barton looked as if he wanted to run. He squeaked every time Rudy jabbed the Branding Iron at Adam. But the General remained impassive. He calmly raised the radio to his mouth and spoke.
“Attack,” he said and Rudy smiled at him.
“General, I believe that you should lead the Army from the front, to inspire them with your divine skills.” Rudy said sarcastically and then walked away.
12
Mackinaw Bridge, Center Tower
8:35am EST
Lisa wanted to vomit at the site of the Dead as they mindlessly charged the position. The two Bradleys were up front, and they were banging away. It was impressive to see them chew through rank after rank of the Dead, but she knew that their ammunition reserves were very limited and they would be empty soon.
Ken Michener and his people passed through more than an hour ago. They had all wanted to join her people in the defense of the center tower. She told him they’d done enough and sent them back to the encampment. She admired their bravery, and the job they’d done drawing the enemy into the net, now she had a dirty job to do of her own.
Ever since they’d left, she’d been waiting for the hammer to fall on them. When the enemy finally closed within range, she ordered the long distance guns to fire on them. It was surreal to watch the battle progress. So many of the Dead fell that a temporary wall of them was formed across the width of the bridge. For five minutes the gun had gone silent, then the wave of the Dead crested the pile of their brethren and the fighting resumed.
“Colonel, I think we should consider falling back.” Ben Millette said from her right side. The young man had been given command of the detachment of Rangers following her and her people to the center point of the bridge.
“Not quite yet Mr. Millette,” she said absently. She wanted to have the living human elements of the Army of the Dead in her sights before they fell back to the head of the bridge. She glanced over at the younger man and hid a smile. She knew he was worried about his new wife and their unborn child. She understood, Nancy and Charlie were never far from her thoughts, and she knew Liam treating her like a daughter was going to make Nancy very happy. Plus she really liked the crusty old man. She knew it would take very little time for her to grow to love him like a true father. She thought that she might already. Her real father had been absent, and her stepfather had been an abusive fuckwad, but she knew Liam Harrison was a good and loving man.
Through the smoke and haze of the confined and artificial battlefield, she saw the flags of the enemy. It was a crimson sigil that hurt her eyes to look at set on a liquid shiny black field. The sight of the flag bothered her, because she felt like she could almost read what it meant. The back of her mind felt oily and guttural. Then for the first time, she clearly remembered one of her dreams, but in that dream, the tide which was really the Army of the Dead had gotten her and made her one of them. What frightened her was the sight behind the flags. There were half a dozen M-1 Abrams tanks, ten Bradley fighting vehicles, and several pieces of mobile artillery. The enemy had them completely outgunned.
Things quieted a bit as the defenders’ Bradleys finally ran out of ammunition for their massive cannons. It was time to move.
She yelled into her radio over the fury of the battle and the moans of the Dead. Moans which still set her hair on end. “Prepare to fall back!”
Engines began to start, and one by one the vehicles began to retreat. As Lisa entered the Jeep Cherokee she looked back at the Bradleys. They’d served their purpose, and now they would have to be left to block the road while the fighters retreated. It was hoped that by sacrificing the armored fighting vehicles, they would convince the leaders of the Army of the Dead that they’d indeed routed the defenders.
“Alright,” she said to young man behind the wheel. “Let’s see if your boss can actually pull this off.”
“The General can do anything!” The kid proclaimed loudly. Lisa hoped that he knew what he was talking about.
13
8:55am EST
The Head of the Bridge
Liam kept looking at his watch and then through the binoculars strapped around his neck. He thought the wait might drive him crazy. The force from the central tower should have been back three minutes ago, but so far they had not crested the bridge’s exit.
In the short time that he’d known Lisa Sutton, he thought he knew why his daughter loved her. The woman was tough and resourceful, but she hadn’t lost her essential humanity amidst all of the madness. When Nancy told him she was a lesbian, and that she was leaving Todd, he’d been shocked. No man wanted to think that their child was gay, at least a parent from his generation. But he never condemned her or knowingly made her feel bad. He worried she would never find someone she could be happy with. On the few occasions the family had gotten together, unlike her brother, she’d never brought a special someone for the family to meet.
It saddened him.
“I think I see them,” Kyle said from his position above him on the roof of Wolverine One. “Yep, it looks like most of them made it away from the tower. At least from here, it looks like the losses were about what we expected.” He sounded clinical, and that bothered Liam. Ever since he’d nearly been run to the ground in Belleville, the kid had been harder and more practical. Liam knew that even if they made it out of this intact, Kyle would have to take on more and more responsibility.
“Alright, fire the flare.” He said. Kyle picked up the flare pistol lying next to him and fired the red star shell. That was the signal to everyone assembled at the northern end of the bridge to prepare for the final twist and dip of this morbid fucking dance.
Red burst in the air.
All around them, the encampment boiled with the activity of several hundred former survivors and refugees now tempered into lean and hardened warriors. They all knew they had to grab the head of the Army of the Dead in the vice of their firepower, and hold them there until the bulk of the enemy was firmly on the bridge. Only then could the Big Mac be brought down.
The first of the vehicles containing the fighters from the holding action on the bridge arrived. The people disembarked and took up their positions on the line. There was only going to be one chance at this, and everything had to happen in order.
The Cherokee with Lisa in it pulled up to Wolverine One. She got out and walked over to Liam and Kyle. She looked at the two men, and they saw the fear in her eyes. She wasn’t hysterical, but she was extremely amped up.
“Tanks,” she said without any preamble, “Those mother fuckers have tanks, and Bradleys, and field artillery. If we let them over here, we are going to be shelled into the fucking mud!” Her breathing was hard but steady.
“Aw Christ Liam, she’s not fucking kidding!” Kyle said pointing at the bridge. The first of the enemy’s armored force could be seen in the distance, slowly moving down the expanse of the longest suspension bridge in the world.
Liam lifted his own field glasses and examined the situation. “There are still a lot of the Dead, and what appear to be a dozen trucks in front of the tanks.” He said absently. Then he reached for the radio and spoke.
“Bring out the Dragons.” He said.
“Are you sure?” Kyle asked. The Dragons were nearly obsolete anti-armor missiles the Rangers acquired when they had raid the National Guard Armory in Ypsilanti. They had ten of the precious units, and when they were gone they would have no more.
“Yes, we hit the armor after the Dead and the trucks in front of them have crossed the bridge. We can’t afford to let them cross the armor over here.” Liam said.
Kyle nodded and passed the full orders on to the rocket teams.
14
General Adam Baker
In General Baker’s opinion they’d pushed past the defenses at the center tower too easily. It was easy for Lo
rd Clarke and Barton to send him forward, while they remained safe at the southern end of the bridge until this was finished. It was extremely foolish to commit the sum of their armored assets, and the best of the living soldiers, in the first wave. It had been very difficult to find the people with the knowledge to operate the complicated machines, and replacing them if they were lost would be ten times more difficult. But when Lord Clarke gave him an order, Baker had no will to resist.