Dead Team Alpha (Book 2): The Stronghold

by Jake Bible

  There is a long, low whistle from the shadows far below the stadium and Val brings up her carbine, her NVGs picking out a small shape working its way through the husks of cars left in the stadium’s parking lot on Z-Day, abandoned by the fleeing and doomed sports fans.

  The whistle sounds again and Val is puzzled. It’s a Team code whistle, letting her know that a friendly is approaching. But the small shape she sees is no friendly she knows. In fact, it looks like…

  “Shit,” she says and drops off the ledge to the walkway a few feet below her.

  Val sprints down the sloping and curving walkway to what used to be a concession stand for those long dead spectators that had needed hot dogs and beer in between plays by the Air Force football team. Now, instead of hot dogs, stadium cheese-covered nachos, and cheap beer sold at expensive prices, the stand hosts the rest of DTA, all sleeping soundly, grabbing some rest while they can.

  “Company,” Val whispers as she hurries past the concession stand.

  Every member of DTA is awake, alert, and hopping over the concession stand’s counter in the time it takes them to open their eyes. Carbines up to their shoulders, they follow Val down the continuously spiraling walkway until they reach a set of wide stairs.

  “What we got?” Cole asks, catching up to Val.

  “I don’t know,” Val says. “I think… I think it’s that woman the Monkeys took inside their bunker.”

  “Are you shitting me?” Cole asks. “That old woman? Can’t be. No way some old scurvy like that is escaping the Code Monkeys.”

  “I said I think,” Val says. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

  When they get to the bottom of the stairs and see the woman standing at a chain link barricade blocking the entrance to the stadium, Val knows she is not wrong.

  “Holy fuck,” Diaz says. “She’s a mess.”

  “Hello,” the woman says. “I’m Sister.”

  Then she collapses to her knees, one hand on the chain link, the other gripping her side, blood leaking from between her fingers.

  “Shit fuck,” Sister whispers before she falls onto her side and her eyes roll up into her head.

  “She can say that twice,” Alastair says.

  Chapter Two- A Bitter Pill To Swallow

  “Damn,” Alastair says as the Team stare at the unconscious woman they carried up to the top level concession stand. “How the hell did she get away?”

  “She took a beating doing it,” Cole says, squatting a few feet from the motionless Sister. “She probably would have bled out eventually if she hadn’t found us.”

  “What are those sores on her skin?” Tiny D asks. “Look at them. They look like burns.”

  “Not burns,” Val says. “Cancer. My mom had some like that before she…”

  Everyone nods, no one wanting to think too much about the death of Val’s mother. Suicide is not something anyone in the Teams talks about. It is considered a disgrace, despite more than a few of the Team Mates going down that path when they reach the end of their lives.

  “Cancer,” Cole says. “This chick has cancer and she still got away from the Code Monkeys?”

  “Maybe they just didn’t see her leave,” Alastair says then shrugs when everyone frowns at him. “What? It’s not like they have eyes.”

  “They obviously know she left,” Val says. “How else did she get the shit beat out of her and stabbed?”

  “I don’t get it,” Cole says. “I don’t get any of it. This woman escapes the Code Monkeys, which is pretty much impossible, and then she finds us? How did she know to look for us here?”

  “Yeah. Why us?” Alastair asks.

  “We’re DTA,” Tiny D responds.

  “So fucking what?” Alastair counters. “How the hell does she know that? We’ve never seen this woman before.”

  “Maybe she found our trail and figured we could help,” Val says.

  “Looks like she left a trail of her own,” Diaz says from the broken and cracked cement wall across from the concession stand. He nods at the parking lot far below. “Zs incoming. Lots.”

  Cole sighs and hops the concessions stand’s counter then hurries over to Diaz. They look through the break in the cement wall, which originally had only been a waist-high barrier topped with a row of metal pipe railings so spectators didn’t fall several stories to their deaths. Now it is a cracked and jagged example of the old world finally succumbing to the Colorado weather extremes.

  “Fifty?” Cole asks.

  “More,” Diaz says. “I count seventy-five, at least.”

  “Gates should hold,” Cole says. “For now. But we need to move soon.”

  “This chick ain’t going anywhere, Cole,” Tiny D says.

  “We could use one of the stretchers down in the equipment rooms,” Val suggests. “There were two down there when we last took inventory. Unless some wasteland trash has broken in and snagged them.”

  “Why the hell would wasteland trash want one of those stretchers?” Alastair asks.

  “Why does wasteland trash want anything?” Val replies. “Don’t try to figure those people out. They live out with the Zs instead of safe with us up at the Stronghold.”

  “She’ll slow us down too much,” Diaz says. “I’m looking at a hundred Zs now. We gotta go, Mates. Out the backdoor and we can lose them in that old golf course thing before we cut back to 87.”

  “Diaz is right. She’ll slow us down. I say we leave her,” Tiny D says and holds up a large hand before any objections are voiced. “We leave some water and rations and hoof it back to Denver. We can let the DTB that is on outpost duty know she is here and they can send back a rescue Team. Let those assholes carry the stretcher.”

  “She won’t last that long,” Val says. “It’ll take a day to get to the first outpost and then take them a day to get back. Another day, at least, for her to be carried back just to the outpost and another day to get her up to the Stronghold. We don’t have enough water or rations to give her.”

  “So, what, we stay here?” Tiny D asks. “With her? Diaz said there are a hundred Zs down there. This chick probably left a trail of blood from Peterson to here. That means more Zs are on the way. And Code Monkeys. They can follow a blood trail too.” Tiny D looks from Alastair to Diaz and then finally to Cole. “Am I wrong here, TL?”

  “No,” Cole replies.

  “Cole, come on, you can’t just leave—” Val starts.

  “Hold on,” Cole says. “I said Tiny D wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t say she was right.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Tiny D asks. “I’m either right or I’m wrong.”

  “I’m Team Leader,” Cole says. “I’m the only one here that gets to be right.”

  He rubs at his face, leans over the edge of the level and looks down at the approaching Zs, then glances sideways at the concession stand.

  “Wish we had a Runner,” Cole says. “That would make things way easier.”

  “We can thank the mayor and the Stronghold council for that,” Val grumbles.

  “No shit,” Diaz agrees.

  “Why the hell would they refuse to let a Runner be assigned to DTA?” Alastair asks.

  “Not enough of them left,” Cole says. “You all know that. They want them close to home in case we come under siege again. Too many huge Z herds about now. And the Code Monkeys could come back at any second and try to finish the job.”

  “Their job is finished,” Sister mutters then coughs. “They don’t care about the Stronghold. Just about the nukes.”

  Val, Tiny D, and Alastair stare down at the woman. Cole rubs his face once more then moves to the concessions stand counter and peers over it.

  “How long have you been awake?” Cole asks.

  “The second you put your hands on me to get me up here,” Sister replies, her eyes still closed. “Just been saving my energy. Good job on cleaning and stitching my side. Thanks for that, TL Wright.”

  “You know my name?” Cole asks. “How the hell do you know my name?”


  “I know all of your names,” Sister replies. “I know your parents’ names and I know your grandparents’ names. I know pretty much everyone that lives in the Stronghold.”

  “We don’t know you,” Tiny D says.

  “That’s just the way I like it,” Sister replies and smiles. “Makes things a shit ton more fun.” She chuckles softly. “Shit ton fun. Rhymes. I like me some rhymes.”

  “What do you mean they don’t care about the Stronghold?” Val asks. “What do you know about the Code Monkeys?”

  “Wasn’t talking about the Code Monkeys,” Sister says. She opens her eyes and stares right at Val. “I was talking about your mayor and the council. And Commander Lee.”

  “Commander Lee?” Cole asks. “Who the hell are you, lady?”

  Sister responds with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  “I’m Sister,” Sister replies. “I’m the woman that’s going to save the Stronghold. Now help me up.”

  “You probably shouldn’t move,” Alastair says. “Not with that—”

  “I heal fast,” Sister interrupts. “Or used to. Doesn’t matter now. Time for it all to be over.”

  DTA stare at her and she stares back.

  “I said to help me up,” Sister says. “Hello? You got two hundred and thirteen…” She cocks her head and listens. “Nope, two hundred and fourteen Zs down there. Get me up and we do what Diaz said and go out the back then cut across the golf course. Any of you play golf?”

  “Wait? How many? What?” Cole asks.

  “Any of you play golf?” Sister repeats.

  “No. No one plays golf.”

  “I did when I was little,” Sister sighs. “I think.” She rubs her face and shakes her head. “I don’t really know anymore.”

  “Help me get her up,” Val says and glances at Cole. He nods then snaps his fingers and Alastair moves to help Val.

  “Thanks,” Sister says as she stands on wobbly feet. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. Just have to catch my breath now and then. Old bones and shit like that.”

  She looks at DTA and smiles as they all stand there, waiting.

  “You want me to lead the way?” she chuckles.

  “DTA, saddle up,” Cole orders. “Val, you have point. Alastair and Tiny D can help our guest while Diaz and I take our six.”

  “I can manage on my own,” Sister says.

  “Maybe,” Cole says, double checking his M-4. “Maybe not. Not a risk we can take. Let’s move.”

  ***

  Getting down and out of the stadium is easy enough. But once outside they slow down considerably.

  “What the hell?” Cole whispers as they see a second Z horde heading towards them. “No way those followed the blood trail. They’re coming from the wrong direction.”

  “They must have heard the other Zs and came to have a look,” Alastair says.

  “They know we’re here,” Sister says. “Things are getting smarter as they get older. Faster too.” She nods at the second horde. “Thirty-eight slow, six fast in that group.”

  “Lady, you are freaking me out,” Tiny D says.

  “Leave her alone,” Cole orders. “We keep the stadium between us and the Zs. It’ll take us longer to loop around and back to 87, but better than the Zs seeing us. They won’t ever quit if they catch sight of Diaz’s sexy ass.”

  “Damn right,” Diaz says and smiles.

  “We get over this hill then cut right,” Val says as they head for a line of firs and pines that cling to a small red-dirt ridge. “It’ll take longer, but should keep us from being spotted.”

  No one argues as Val moves off, heading into the line of conifers. DTA hikes up the small ridge and disappears over the other side. Cole gives a last look back at the far-off Zs and raises a middle finger before hurrying to catch up with the others.

  They hike through the trees then cut across an old road, the asphalt completely crumbled and broken. Scraggly weeds poke up through the cracked surface here and there, but mostly the road is marked by the stalks of dead wildflowers, their lives over for the season, their dried petals withered and fallen to the ground.

  Val absentmindedly brushes the stalks aside with her boots while she keeps an eye on the way ahead, the barrel of her M-4 leading. The Team makes it across the road and back into the trees without a sign of more Zs.

  It’s not until they reach the edge of what used to be the Air Force Academy’s Eisenhower Golf Course that they run into trouble.

  “This ain’t nothing,” Sister says and grins as the Team looks down at the waist-high grasses and weeds of the old golf course that now play host to dozens and dozens of wandering Zs. “You should see what’s coming from the East right now. Oceans of undead.”

  The Team tears their attention from the Zs and all look at Sister. She shrugs and keeps her eyes on the golf course in front of them.

  “Oceans of Zs,” she repeats, but more to herself.

  “We’ll have to go completely around,” Cole says. “We fight our way through there and the noise will bring the other hordes down on us.”

  “Not so hard,” Sister says and steps from the trees and into the grasses. “Follow my lead.”

  “Your wound,” Val snaps. “You aren’t up for point.”

  Sister puts her hand to her side and looks down. She scrunches up her face and then punches herself right in the wound. Sister gasps, grits her teeth, then shakes her head.

  “I’m good,” she says. “I told you I heal fast.”

  “No one heals that fast,” Diaz says.

  “You’re fucking crazy,” Tiny D adds.

  “Never said I wasn’t,” Sister says. “I need a blade.”

  Alastair pulls a knife from a strap on his thigh and flips it handle first then holds it out.

  “I need a real blade,” Sister says. Her eyes turn to Val.

  The rest of the Team look at the Val as well, their eyes falling to the long, curved blade sheathed on her hip. Val follows their looks and glances at the long blade that has been in her family for generations. Legend has it that the blade was given to Granny G by the Great El herself right before the woman left the Stronghold for the last time.

  “No way,” Val exclaims. “I’m not handing this over to some stranger.”

  “Trust me,” Sister says, her hand outstretched. “Let me borrow it and I promise to give it back.”

  Val starts to protest, but Cole clears his throat and raises his eyebrows.

  “Cole? Come on!” Val nearly barks. A few of the Zs slowly turn their undead bodies towards the noise.

  “Stop dicking around,” Cole says. “Let her have the blade.”

  “Not like it’s really from the Great El,” Tiny D says instantly getting a look of death from Val. “What? Come on, Val. Makes for a nice family story, but the Great El is more a legend than a reality.”

  “Like a ghost,” Alastair says. “People think she hangs around the Stronghold, her spirit haunting the idiots that wander too far from the wall.”

  “Idiots shouldn’t wander,” Sister says. “You gonna give me that blade or not?”

  Val frowns and pulls the curved blade from its sheath. The blade in her hand is just over twenty inches long, curved with the end wider than the part closest to the hilt. The grip is soft, well-worn leather with steel knuckle guards, making it not only an excellent slashing and stabbing weapon, but one that makes a hell of a skull-crushing punch.

  “My mom gave this to me,” Val says, reluctantly handing the blade over. “Even if it didn’t come from the Great El, it came from my mom. Lose it and I’ll fucking kick your ass.”

  “You can try,” Sister says. “But I won’t lose it. Just stay close, Mates. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  Sister hefts the blade and smiles then walks down into the golf course and straight at a large group of Zs huddled close to an abandoned and almost rusted to dust golf cart. DTA follows close behind, none of them knowing whether to watch the Zs or watch Sister. They err on the side of caution, a
nd their training, and settle on watching the Zs, even though the way Sister swings the blade back and forth draws their attention with its hypnotic rhythm.

  The first Zs turn their undead bodies towards Sister just as she reaches them. They moan low and take a couple steps. That’s all the steps they get as Sister casually removes their heads with two swipes, sending five bodies falling to the ground at the same time, black sludge leaking from their necks and staining the grasses.

  Sister does a hop step to the right and cuts down two more Zs while three on her left reach for her. She hacks off their outstretched hands, which are mostly weathered bone with some strips of dried gristle holding the joints together. The Zs hiss and groan at her, but she ignores their protestations and proceeds to pierce their skulls through their foreheads one at a time.

  She looks back over her shoulder and winks.

  “Fucking A,” Alastair says.

  DTA sling their carbines, pulling the straps tight to their chests, the M-4s secure at their backs, resting against their packs, then each pull out collapsible batons and snap them out, showing the sharpened metal points.

  “Here we go,” Cole says and goes in for the kill as two Zs come for him.

  He takes the legs out from under one and spins the baton about to stab the other. It lunges at him faster than anticipated and he misses the kill shot, instead sticking the thing through the throat. The Z on the ground reaches for his ankles and he lifts a boot then brings it down hard, crushing the Z’s skull.

  Cole lowers his shoulder and lets the other Z fall across his back then he stands straight, sending the thing tumbling over him and onto the ground. A hard thunk sounds and Cole turns his neck to see Diaz ending the Z’s undead life with a hard stab through the back of the head. The thing stops wiggling and truly becomes dead.