“Where are they?” I demanded, speaking into my radio.
Tara fired three rounds into the chest of a raider, a skinny man wearing his jacket and a pair of socks, nothing else. He fell back, and the hatchet he was holding landed in the dirt beside him.
“Center of the ravine, past the part where it curves inward,” replied Xavier.
I could see where it bent in toward the camp. We were close.
“Dad! We’re being shot at.” Mary sounded frantic. “Lizzy’s hit! I think Tim was too.”
My heart rate skyrocketed. “Who else is with you?”
“Terrance is here, and Michelle.”
“We’re almost at the spot. You sit tight. The other Pave Hawks are on the way.”
I should have just gone ahead and had all of them attack at the same time, but, no, I had to be considerate of Yellowstone maybe getting hit by a few thousand zombies. As if we hadn’t learned how to lead them away. As if they couldn’t be dealt with, provided they weren’t guided by raiders. It had happened once before. It could be happening now. God, this sucked. What was the right choice, and had I royally screwed up?
Dale dropped to one knee and shot a woman who had just swung out on a rope stretching between two trees. The ravine wasn’t very wide, maybe twenty five, thirty feet. I had no idea how deep it was. Since she was hit in the throat, I don’t suppose it much mattered.
The small group waiting to cross turned and charged. The Zablocki twins calmly began to target them, focusing on whomever was raising a weapon. Those who simply ran at us were left for me. How considerate. I did my part, however, likewise opening fire. Unfortunately, the distance wasn’t great, and two managed to close.
“Dad!”
I found myself flat on my back, one on top of me. I’d managed to swing my gun to the side to block the knife he carried, catching him in the wrist. I might have even broken his arm, but that didn’t stop the other hand from grasping my face, dirty fingers trying to gouge out my eyes. Struggling, I whipped my head to the left, and his hand slid down to my throat. That was hardly an improvement as my ability to breathe suddenly vanished. The man was strong.
My right hand went to my hip, the other trying to push him away. I fumbled for my pistol. He slammed me in the face with his free arm, and I saw stars which quickly began to grow black. Then fingertips brushed against the handle of my knife. Jerking it free, I stabbed sideways as hard as I could. The blade hit and scraped against his ribs. His grip was not broken. I struck again. This time the weapon sank deep, and he screamed.
Air came flooding into my lungs, and I managed to get a foot up. With a shove, he tumbled back, and Tara shot him. I glanced at her. Her gaze lingered just long enough to ensure I wasn’t hurt. She then returned to the more pressing task of killing the enemy. With roaring flames highlighting an otherwise dark night, and plenty of chaotic shadows dancing about, simply finding a target could be difficult.
On my other side was Dale. He’d been attacked by the second raider. Like me, he had been unable to shoot the man outright. Unlike me, he’d managed to bring the stock of his rifle up and slam it into the fellow’s face. The man was down and unconscious, so I tore some strands from his shirt, using these to bind both wrists behind his back. There were a few things I wanted to know.
“Prophet’s on the other side,” said Tara suddenly.
“What! Where at? Are you sure?”
“Saw his black leather when a light turned on.”
I peered into the darkness. There was no sign of anyone. Whoever turned on the lantern had switched it off again promptly, likely as not getting slapped by his comrades for giving away their position.
“Rope was cut,” added Dale.
So much for following them. Mary!
“Mary, you there!?” I cried, almost screaming into my radio.
“Here.” Her voice was ragged. “I’m okay.”
Thank God for that.
“What about Lizzy and the others?”
“Michelle’s dead. Lizzy took one in the side, but I don’t think it’s bad. Tim got one in the hip, but that’s just a graze. Terrance twisted his ankle. It’s not broken, hopefully, but he’s hurting. May not be able to walk.”
I hated losing anyone, but keeping Mary alive was a priority. Michelle’s family might not like hearing this, but I’m sure they felt the same about their loved ones. And, while I didn’t adopt Mary until shortly after her fourteenth birthday, I considered her every bit as much my child as Asher.
“Are you safe right now?” I asked.
“No one else is shooting. I think they’re all gone. I can’t see anyone.”
“Kimberly, you listening?”
“I’m here, Jacob,” came her response.
“Drop the remaining bomb on the other side of the ravine. The prophet crossed over. I can’t follow, so I want you to burn him up.”
“On it,” she answered.
The homemade napalm blossomed thirty seconds later. I have no way to telling if we got the bastard or not, but it was the best I could do. Once the other Pave Hawks arrived, they would scour the area and shoot anything they found.
* * *
“Two burned bodies,” said Harvey. “Neither is the prophet. One might have died from the fire. The other was put out of his misery. No tracks that I can see either, too many rocks. None of the planes have spotted anything, and the one with the heat sensing gear is having trouble due to the fire. At this point, they could be ten or more miles off, anywhere to the north, west, or south.”
I cursed, loudly. “How many escaped?”
“Five, ten.” He shrugged. “I don’t think that many managed to cross over, and a few of those tried to keep fighting. Tara and Dale said they hit several before they finally turned and ran. Those bodies are separate from the pair we found further off.”
The firebomb used on the far side of the ravine proved effective, and the fire it started quickly grew out of control. It spread incredibly fast, and I was guessing several thousand acres were now aflame. It had pushed west due to the wind. This was something at least, the fire moving away from our position. Regarding the campsite, those flames had also spiraled more than I’d expected. After we recovered Mary, Lizzy, and the others, Harvey was forced to pull most of the militia back. Again, the wind favored us, pushing the conflagration up against the cliff and ravine that had bordered the raider camp.
“What about the Pave Hawks?”
“The choppers are all back in Yellowstone,” said Mary. She was sitting on a fallen tree a few feet away. “We can call them if we need to. Kimberly radioed in a little while ago too. She saw deer running, and they were barely able to get out of the way of the fire. Do you think the raiders could?”
“No way any of them are faster than Bambi, but I want a body to be certain. I hate having to make assumptions.”
“You might, by a God given miracle, find some bones, the way the fire is now,” said Harvey, “but I wouldn’t count on it. There’d be no way we could tell who they belonged to anyway.”
I stared at the desolation on the opposite side of the tiny ravine yet again. Maybe those who’d vetoed my earlier plan of burning the raiders out of the woods weeks ago had been correct. Fire attacks clearly had some serious drawbacks that needed to be taken into consideration. Oh well, nothing I could do about it now.
“Let’s pack up and get going.”
“Finally,” murmured Mary.
“We are going say the prophet is alive, since we have no proof to the contrary, but the raiders are gone as a group. With a handful making it out, if that, and none known to exist anywhere else, they are no longer a threat.”
“Yay!” My daughter was less than enthused. “We win.”
“Mary, call in a helicopter. You can ride back with Xavier or whomever and visit Lizzy in the hospital. Go ahead and give Captain Briggs a detailed report too.”
She perked up at that and quickly called in the request. Lizzy and the other wounded, along with Michelle
’s body, had been flown out on the Pave Hawks shortly after the battle.
“We’re finally back to just having to deal with shamblers,” I concluded, feeling less than satisfied.
“Amen to that,” said Harvey.
“Enjoy the peace while it lasts. You know we’re going to be a launching point in the effort to clear the country of the things, whenever the government gets around to it.”
“At least they’re stupid and don’t shoot back.”
“And there are over three hundred million of them, not counting Canada or Mexico,” I commented, “or Central America for that matter.”
“What about our prisoner?” he asked.
The raider I’d bound the night before was currently tied to a tree with a very bored Tara and Dale watching him.
“Might as well get to the questioning. Stick him in a chair next to the ravine, close to the edge but facing the camp. I want him to be looking at the bodies of his buddies and thinking about plummeting down and splatting. It might help.”
The twins had to slap and punch him a few times – the man was determined to resist – but they soon got the raider into a folding chair and secured him with plenty of duct tape. Tara also stripped off his jacket. That did not go over well. The looks directed at her were of pure hatred and malevolence.
“Xavier’s on his way,” said Mary.
“That’s good. You might want to be elsewhere.”
Her eyes widened. “Why’s that? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to find out what he knows, and I don’t think there’s any chance he’ll talk without persuasion.”
She hesitated. “I’ll stay.”
“You really should go, Mary.”
“You should,” agreed Harvey.
“No. I’ve seen what they do, and I’ve been in lots and lots of fights.”
There was a big difference in having to defend yourself or others and pre-meditated violence against a helpless, restrained target. Still, I couldn’t find it within myself to send her away. Was that exhaustion, or was I becoming too hardened by all that had happened?
“Where is the prophet going?” I asked. “This assumes he didn’t burn to death.”
The man didn’t utter a word.
“Dale, remove his shoes and cut off three toes.”
Mary turned a nasty shade of green but did not avert her eyes.
“Put some gloves on first. He might have all sorts of nasty things floating around in his blood.”
I hate latex gloves due to a particularly severe allergy. I never use the things, can’t even wear them for more than a few seconds before I start breaking out in a rash that will quickly become unbearable. This didn’t mean others should neglect some elementary precautions.
“I ain’t telling you shit!”
The raider’s words were determined, but he was squirming. It was not clear if this was because Dale had donned the gloves, taken from one of our first aid kits, or if it was because Tara had severed the heads of two of the dead, one being a woman, and was lining them up in front of the captive. She apparently understands psychological tactics, or perhaps Tara watched lots of old horror and war movies. I’d have to ask her later. Neither twin had ever mutilated the dead before. In fact, they generally ignored the bodies of those they killed, aside from recovering any weapons or useful supplies.
“Your boss ran away and left you here,” I pointed out. “All your friends are dead. Your families are dead, buried in a cave back that way. Trust me on that one. I dug in far enough to see the bodies. You really want to join them?”
Dale was reaching for the man’s sneakers when he lurched backward. I was slow to react. Dale was also caught off guard by the unexpected movement. Neither of us was able to prevent the prisoner from tumbling off the edge of the ravine.
“Future rule,” I said softly, breaking the silence. “If I try to freak someone out by putting them next to a seventy foot drop, stop me.”
Interlude – Renee’s Story
I wasn’t the only one fond of night vision goggles and all they allowed a person to do. Renee led an assault of her own while I was off chasing the prophet, and she put the wondrous devices to good use hunting down the small group of raiders who’d been harassing the Black Hills.
“We sure they’re in there?” asked Rudy.
He was one of the volunteers bolstering Renee’s force. In all, she had thirty people with her, most arranged in a loose circle around the farm house and barn. At first glance, the structure appeared empty and abandoned. Windows were broken. Part of the roof had collapsed. Weeds were growing everywhere, only, those by the rear door had been trampled. There were also fresh tire marks near the barn.
“Someone has been here,” she replied.
No one else in the small group clustered around Renee commented. It was these hand selected individuals who would rush the house and barn while the remainder ensured none escaped. This did not include Rudy. He was a mediocre shot at best, but the man knew his first aid, having been on the receiving end more than once, primarily due to accidents while rock climbing. Serving as their medic, he had to be close enough to respond quickly.
“Tony, take Christia and get the barn, one of you going in each side. I expect they’re keeping their transportation there.”
He gave her a thumbs up and with his partner in tow began to belly crawl through the high grass. The moon was down, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Additionally, Renee might rip his head off if he acted in anything less than a perfect manner. When it came to operations, she was perhaps the most professional person in the Black Hills. Renee definitely spent the most time squeezing information out of the military trainers. She had even gone so far as to travel to Yellowstone to speak with the soldiers there.
“Back door,” she said, pointing.
That pair likewise set off, carefully approaching the house in a roundabout manner that made full use of the limited cover. Renee’s group, consisting of her and two others, were the last to leave. They’d take the front. Rudy sat down to wait.
* * *
It only took a few minutes to get into position. During that time none of the pre-positioned snipers spotted any movement. The place appeared abandoned. Even so, Renee was fairly certain this was where the raiders had been camping. It was isolated, so zombies were a lesser concern, and it was sixty miles from the Black Hills. That was close enough to launch all sorts of nastiness but still be outside any reasonable search area. The placement made sense, and it would have gone unnoticed had a long range flight lacked an ultra-observant spotter who noticed some people in the distance. A second flight two days later discovered tire tracks in the mud. The pilot never slowed, just flying past as if he was heading somewhere else. Pictures were taken, however, and these were blown up and carefully examined.
“Status?” she whispered, into the microphone attached to her sleeve.
A chorus of ready came back, in proper order, each member of the assault team having been assigned a number. It was time to go.
“Green light,” she said.
Renee rushed forward, crossing the twenty feet to the front door, and carefully tested the knob. It was locked. Gesturing for one of her companions, the woman stepped back. The sledgehammer slammed into the door, breaking through the lock and shattering the frame. It swung open with a bang, and Renee darted inside. The living room was empty. A quick glance confirmed the same for the dining room. One of her comrades exited the kitchen, having come in through the rear. Another moved to examine the den and the steps leading to the basement. She headed directly for the staircase.
A man staggered into view above her, and Renee put a round in his chest. He crumpled to the floor, the round failing to exit through his back. She tapped him a second time in the head as she moved past. The hallway, appearing green through her goggles, was empty. More of the team followed, and she pointed at the four doors, one of which was ajar. Renee chose that one for herself.
A figure appea
red in the portal, this time clad in the telltale, reviled jacket. Before he could even make sense of what appeared to him as little more than a dark blob, Renee fired, the soft pops of the silenced weapon making far less noise than his scream of pain. Again, a head shot ensured he would never get up, and she entered the bedroom, the barrel of her gun leading the way.
More gunfire erupted, all of it from her team. She lined up a figure on the floor. He appeared to be unconscious, a half empty bottle resting nearby. Otherwise, the room was clear.
“Status?” she requested, as soon as the firing ceased.
Tony and Christia were the first to respond. “Got nine bikes and one SUV inside the barn. No hostiles.”
The others rattled off their own reports, and the snipers outside confirmed there was no other movement. Renee used a pair of handcuffs to secure the drunk. The same was done with the other two survivors, one of whom had taken a round in the arm. That had quickly been tied off with a tourniquet.
“Get them downstairs and do a more complete search. Bring me any computers or writings. Rudy, get in here,” she added, speaking into the microphone.
* * *
After their medic stitched up the prisoner’s arm, Renee ordered the three separated. One was taken back upstairs. Another went to the barn. The third was placed in the basement. They could neither see nor hear the others. The six interrogators, on the other hand, were in constant contact via their radios, the audio of which was limited to earpieces. Renee decided to stay with the pair handling the fellow upstairs. It was the more comfortable room.
“I don’t give a damn what your name is,” snarled Tony. “Therefore, I won’t be asking. However, you are going to tell me where the prophet is.”
“Fuck…”
The sock, which was filled with exactly twenty seven steel ball bearings, slammed down on the man’s left hand. Bones crunched, and blood began to ooze from the wound.
“You fucking bastard!”
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Page 18