Zombie Dawn II: A Zombie Apocalypse Sequel

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Zombie Dawn II: A Zombie Apocalypse Sequel Page 5

by Crowley, J. A.


  One day, Luis came back to the Armory badly wounded. He’d been shot in the leg. Sadie ended up nursing him, and I helped her. While she worked, Luis told us about the fight.

  “I was out in Burlington, seeing if I could find survivors or zombies. Had a couple of wolves with me, a few shamblers, and a brain. Santos had ordered the brain to follow my orders and to protect me from the zombies. It worked somehow. He wanted more bodies for another attack on the Farm. We weren’t finding nothing, but kept looking around.

  We ended up in this nice neighborhood, kind of big houses set back from the street. One of the houses seemed like it hadn’t been looted or burned. Almost felt like someone might be in there.

  It had been so long since we’d seen anyone that we let our guard down a bit. I sent the brain and the wolves around the back and sides while I walked right up to the front door and knocked on it. My shamblers were right behind me. All of a sudden, I hear a bunch of quiet pops from around back. Believe me, I’ve been hearing that sound my entire life. Silenced .223 rounds. I ran as fast as I could away from the house, just as the front door opened and this tall, skinny guy opened up with a twelve gauge. He blasted the shamblers to hell, then nailed me in the ass with a load of birdshot as I ran.

  Just when I thought I was in the clear, I saw another guy come around the side. He was the shooter. He lined me up for a kill shot, but one of the wolves took a final run at him, spoiling his aim. He got me in the shoulder. I think the guy with the shotgun killed the wolf. I got away while they ran back in the house.”

  Something about this incident made me wonder if Jack had wounded Luis. That type of trap sounded like Jack, and the fight happened near, or maybe at, the old house we called the Bat Cave. Could Jack be on his way here to free Mike and me?

  Chapter 21: Mike’s Journal—Mike and Lita

  I don’t care who reads this now. I am in love. Lita and I went all the way last night. It actually started when we were fighting. She got me down and, instead of trying to hit me, she ground herself against me, down there. And kissing me. It was weird, at first. Then it felt kind of right. Then, I was rock hard and figured a few things out all at once.

  First, this felt great. I think I was in love. We hadn’t even kissed before, but we liked each other. Definitely. I’d been noticing her a lot lately. Her smell. Her breath. Her body. She had curves all over, and I didn’t. I’d thought about it, but never put it all together. I instantly figured out why my balls had been aching so much lately.

  Anyway, she started it, and I’m glad she did. First the kissing, then the touching. She was rough, and so was I, at first, but we slowed down a bit. Now I know what they mean when they say heavy breathing. We were like two race horses at the end of a race, but we were just starting.

  I won’t tell you all of the details. Couldn’t even begin. But her breasts, her neck, her ears. Her smell—cinnamon, swamp, sweat. Her heat. Her thighs. Her wetness. That smell. You either know what I’m talking about, or you hope to find out.

  Neither of us had ever done this before, and sometimes it was frustrating as we figured out what went where. But we’d both just laugh, take a second, figure it out, and take the next step. It all felt really good, even the laughter.

  We did stuff I’d only dreamed about, for hours, over and over again, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. I am in love.

  Chapter 22: Jack’s Journey—Bat Cave

  After our trip to the woods, I was really glad to approach Burlington. We came in slowly, staying well away from the Armory, as we made our way to what Mike used to call the Bat Cave. I told Micah about all of the stuff we had cached there, and about Barry and Elliott, Brick and Edith, and how Mike used to name everything. I ended up crying a few times, because those days, before Mike and Kate were taken, were the last happy times I’d known. Or might ever know again.

  We arrived at the Bat Cave without incident. It had not been disturbed and was still abandoned. We didn’t see anyone, human or zombie, as we came in. I guess that was due to our eradication efforts, Santos’ zombie army, and the passage of time. But it was good to see, since my Plan A was to eventually clean up and re-settle Burlington—if all went well.

  One thing I had remembered to bring, or maybe I still had it in my pocket and just brought it along, was the key to the front door at the Bat Cave. It was nice to have something work out OK for once. We waited until dark, then a bit longer. I explained to Micah how we’d “clear” the place.

  “First, I go in and find cover. Then, I’ll point to you and you get to a place where you can cover me. Then, I’ll move, and cover you when you move. We’ll do that until we have done the entire house, basement to attic. Got it?”

  “Sure, Jack, just like those TV shows, right?”

  “Yeah, Micah. Just like TV. Make sure you shut the front door after you are in. Lock it, too. And don’t touch anything. I left a few booby traps in there. Just cover me, do what I say, and don’t touch anything.”

  “Roger that, Jack.”

  “Jesus Christ, Micah. Just don’t touch anything.”

  When I knew the place was unoccupied, we went in. It had the feel of emptiness. You know it when you feel it. For example, a house like that will always be a little colder than the outside. Dusty. Silent, but with some house noises, creaking and stuff. Of course, it was pitch dark and our batteries were low, so it was still pretty creepy.

  I started with the front hall, and we cleared the first floor. Micah handled it like a champ. He looked so good doing it that I could tell he’d watched more than his share of TV. If he’d have had his safety off, it would have been perfect. But I could tell the house was empty, so I didn’t tell him about the safety.

  We headed down into the basement. All of the supplies down there seemed fine. We quickly cleared the rest of the house, too.

  I had one of those “fuck it” moments and started up the generator. To my surprise, it started right up. We’d put stabilizer in the fuel, but I expected it to go bad. Micah fired up the wood stove in the kitchen, and we broke out some chow, cooked it, stuffed ourselves, and fell asleep. Not really a military type operation, but it was worth it.

  After a couple hours of sleep, I decided to fire up the short wave and raise the Farm. Again, to my surprise, it worked perfectly and Sean answered immediately. I started to snivel a bit when I heard his voice, and he did too. We spent a few minutes catching up. He told me all about all of his projects and the clean up after the battle. I told him how much I loved him and how proud I was and to be brave. He got Bobbie and she brought me up to speed, too. I thanked her for saving me at the end of the battle. She got a kick out of that but got right back to business.

  “Did you get Mommy yet?”

  “No, baby, but I’ll do my best.”

  “I miss you. I even miss Mike.”

  “Yeah, me too. I hope we’ll all be together soon. I love you Bobbie. Hang tough. Can you get Uncle Jim?”

  “I’m right here little brother. Why the fuck did you run off like that? I have a team ready to go, just say the word.”

  “Jim, I don’t even know if they are alive. All I caught was that one glimpse. We can’t risk the Farm if this is just a wild goose chase. Just hunker down, stay safe, guard my kids, and fix things up. I don’t want to have to do any cleaning when I get back there.”

  “It’s all done you lazy fucker. I’ll take care of it. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Over and out. Watch those kids and your own ass, dumbshit.”

  Some things never change.

  Anyway, I got a bit more sleep. Woke up around eight, to the smell of Micah cooking breakfast. Followed by the sound of the security alarms. I’d forgotten about those, but the Bat Cave was wired up with motion detectors and even security cameras. I pulled up the video and saw an ugly looking human motherfucker and a bunch of brains and wolves approach the house. The human started down the walk with a few shamblers, while the brains and wolves circled around to the back.


  “You take the front,” I whispered to Micah. “Take the damn safety off and make sure you are loaded up. If the door opens, blast away and don’t stop. I left a second 12 gauge there for you next to the stairs.”

  “You got it, Jack.” He seemed almost excited.

  I’d taken care to clean and reload my M-4 and put a suppressor on it. I went to one of the disguised firing ports we’d built into the second floor and waited as I watched the brain and the wolves on video. We’d set up the back yard to funnel any attackers towards the firing ports. Sean actually came up with it. It worked perfectly. You could tell the brain wanted to spread out, but he couldn’t. The brain and six wolves ended up right in my sights. I lined them up and lit them up with the suppressor. First, body and leg shots to put them down, followed with kill shots to keep them down. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

  When they were down, I moved silently around the side of the house to the front. I couldn’t see the rest of them, so I figured they were at the front door. I was right. All of sudden, Micah opens up with his 12 gauge. I come around the corner, and about five shamblers are down with that human gorilla barrel- assing down the front walk. Micah shot him in the ass with birdshot and he stumbled. Just as I lined the fucker up, I saw a zombie coming from the left. I guess I hadn’t put them all down for good. As I turned to meet the threat, Micah nailed it with a triple tap. I snapped off a quick shot at the human, think I hit him, but he kept moving.

  “You did great, Micah, just perfect.”

  He actually blushed. “You were really good, too, Jack.”

  I blushed too.

  “We’re pretty lucky to be alive. Now I know they are at the Armory. We need to go scope that out. We may be able to get some reinforcements if things go well.”

  I checked Micah’s face. “Are you sure you want to stay with me, Micah? You can go to the Farm if you want. This is really dangerous.”

  “I’m with ya all the way, Jack.”

  “Thanks, Buddy. You are a good man. Now finish that breakfast, would you?”

  Chapter 23: Kate’s Diary—A New Addition

  Just when you think this place couldn’t get any weirder, it does. Bonnie told me that Mariana had a baby yesterday. I have seen her each and every day, including yesterday and today, and I had no idea she was even pregnant.

  I always had some suspicions about her and Santos. He was such a creep, always touching and fondling her. I figured he was the father. She often stayed in his room, many times with others. Including Joumana. Santos seemed so gay, I always thought it must be for military planning or some other administrative task. Now I knew what he was up to.

  Come to think of it, maybe Santos had fathered Joumana’s baby as well. The only male members of the Inner Core were gay, and I doubt any human would dare touch her. It had to be him.

  Seeing Joumana and Mariana around each other and the two babies seems to confirm my suspicion. You can pick up telepathic chatter from them. They each hate the other, and they’d each love to kill the other’s baby. Joumana fears Santos, and Mariana loves him. I guess that keeps them from doing it.

  At least they don’t let me down there anymore. They know I’d do my very best to kill both of them.

  Chapter 24 Mike’s Journal—Shooting With Ian

  I was a pretty good shot, but Ian was a different story. Like a home-taught guitarist meeting Carlos Santana or Jimmy Page. He spent hours and hours pacing off distances along highways and open spaces, muttering about that “wanker,” Furlong, and that “mutton head” Harrison. Turns out Furlong was a Canadian sniper who nailed a Taliban at 2400 yards. Harrison beat him by nailing two Taliban, in a row, at 2700 yards. That’s over a mile and a half.

  Furlong and Harrison were in a war situation. They had to hide. Their enemies tried to hide. They had limited opportunity. Ian and I, on the other hand, had almost unlimited opportunity. And we kicked the shit out of Harrison’s record.

  Ian would set up overlooking an interstate highway. He’d use paint to mark each 100 meter mark. He would not start closer than 2,000 meters, and he’d mark out to 3,300 meters. That’s over two miles. The sweet spot was 3219 meters. That’s two miles. Ian would paint a red cross right there. We’d set up some debris so that the zombies would get stuck right at the cross. It takes two or three seconds for the bullet to get there at that distance, so you need a static target in order to have a chance.

  Then, we’d set up something that made a lot of noise, usually an old battery powered radio playing loud Led Zeppelin, near the cross, and we’d each man our shooting stations, then wait. During the wait, we’d exchange stories.

  Ian’s stories blew mine away, but he’d still listen. He seemed to enjoy hearing boring details of a teenage boy’s life almost as much as I enjoyed his stories of his training, deployments, and his horrible childhood. I guess boring can be good sometimes. Ian got more enjoyment over my unsuccessful attempts to feel a boob at the movies than I did at his explicit descriptions of gory combat, extreme training, and weekend benders with special forces groupies.

  Anyway, the zombies would ultimately end up lined up in the kill zone. To score, you had to call your shot, usually by shirt color, and it had to be the first one in line. Head shots were double.

  Ian could actually control his pulse and blood pressure. Bio feedback and meditation. He’d tried to teach me how, but I didn’t get it.

  At two miles out, the slightest bit of wind will throw the shot way off target. We could practice the drop, but the drift was the hard part. Basically, you had to aim about seven feet above the target, then estimate the wind and aim, say, three feet to the right as well. It was more art than science.

  Ian was amazing. I’d watch through my scope as he fired and spot for him. First shot, two zombies to the left. Second shot, one zombie to the left. Third shot—headshot. Fourth shot—headshot. Fifth shot—missed, but nailed a zombie in the third row.

  Then it was my turn. First shot low, fifty yards up the road. Second shot, never saw it. Third shot, nailed a zombie in the pack. Fourth shot, nailed a zombie in the third row. Finally, with my fifth shot, I nailed the right zombie but in the chin and neck.

  Since the head came right off, Ian gave me that one, so the score was 2 to 1 after the first round.

  “It was your gun, asshole. Your max range is 1400 meters, mine is 800.”

  “You whining Yank. Your bloody gun should shoot as straight as mine. It’s just my native British superiority that lets me shoot better.”

  “It’s on, bitch. Switch guns and start over.”

  So we did. He made me go first. I had a great round. Part because of the hardware, part because of the practice. I caught the wind perfectly. My first round was a squidge high but then I nailed three in a row, all headshots. My last shot actually drilled three zombies, but not the one I was aiming at.

  Ian had a bit of trouble. His gun was a bit better, so the adjustment to mine was a bit harder. When the wind started to swirl, I thought I had him. He missed low, missed right, then nailed two in a row. His last shot hit the target in the right shoulder. After two rounds, the game was tied at four.

  We never got in the third round, because all of our firing had drawn a pretty decent pack of wolves. We had Marvel, my watcher, watching our asses but he was such an idiot that he was focused on the game and not watching. At least he was pulling for me.

  Anyway, we had a tense few moments when the wolves attacked. We all acquitted ourselves well. Ian had two Beretta nine millimeters with 15 round mags and could shoot really well with both hands. He was a machine. No misses, no wasted motion, reloads as fast as a striking snake.

  I had a Sig .45 but it only held 7 rounds, and I only had two magazines, so I ended up using my trusty katana to finish up a few. Thank God Ian was backing me up, though. I got the blade stuck in the back of one guy’s skull and the bone must have been thick because I couldn’t get it out. I had to stand with one foot on his head and one on his back and wiggle the goddamn thing back a
nd forth until it came out. Then it broke, so I used the remaining shard to drop one,

  Fortunately, Marvel had entered the fray with his auto Mac 9 and sprayed everything, including a few wolves. He almost nailed Ian, and Ian almost dropped him but was able to hold the shot. Since the zombies were all done, Ian took a moment to bust Marvel’s nose up with a short left, but had to stop there since we knew more were coming. We bugged out and got back to camp as quick as we could.

  When Santos found out that he’d almost lost his two top snipers because they were playing a game, he locked us up together for a day or so. No food, no water. No bucket to shit in. The cell was small enough that you couldn’t really stand up, either. A good reminder that we were slaves, after all. But Ian and I became fast friends that day. It was either that or he’d have to kill me, because I reminded him about two hundred times that we were tied. In fact, I claimed to be the best sniper in the world, since I’d shot the best single five round clip ever.

  Ian snorted, but he had to admit I had a point!

  Chapter 25 Jack’s Journey--Botched

  Micah and I finally arrived at the armory. Waited outside, hidden under a rolled-over semi. We could see a corner of the parking lot, and the main gate. Heavy zombie traffic, including a lot of wolves and brains. A bunch of the intact ones. We were well hidden, and we hung there for over a day.

  A few times, I saw Mike through my scope. He’d grown a bit, seemed to be thriving. He’d filled in a bit, but his eyes were hollow.

  He was in and out all the time. It appeared that he had some freedom. He was usually with a ginger redneck and big soldier.

  Mike’s freedom gave me hope that Kate was alive, since I could not see Mike doing anything for the zombies if she were dead.

  Later that day, I saw someone attack Mike while he wasn’t paying attention. He was just standing there all alone, checking the area out with binoculars. The attacker had a slight build, tall, looked like a female. She landed a blow with some type of pole, sending Mike spinning to the ground. He was laying on his back, looking up at her. There was no one else around the help. The big soldier had left an hour before, and the redneck was for some reason not with Mike. This attacker pulled a knife, moved towards Mike, and made a motion like she was about to slit his throat. Not knowing what else to do, I take the shot. Just as I see Mike laughing and smiling.

 

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