by Hetzer, Paul
The enormous swarm poured over a retaining wall that lined the road like a waterfall of flesh, racing in a jabbering chorus of madness toward the 29th’s position. At the head of the swarm, Reese spotted one of the four crazies he had seen surveilling the armory yesterday.
“We’re going to be fucking overrun,” Shavers stated, taking an involuntary step back from the edge. He made a snap decision. “Everyone to the Stryker’s! We’re vacating!” he ordered with a shout. “Go! Go! Go!”
He keyed the radio and calmly gave the orders to Murchison to evacuate the Armory and have the Ready Stryker prepared to get the hell out of here.
As Carroll and Pickeral disappeared down the ladder of the roof access, Reese grabbed the Remington near the watch station and ran back to the edge of the roof.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the First Sergeant asked as he passed Reese on the way to the ladder.
“Trying to cut off the head of that snake!” Reese yelled as he ran past, cycling a round into the chamber. “I’ll be right behind you!”
Shavers shook his head as he watched the old Marine throw himself prone at the edge with the rifle resting on the building’s raised ledge.
That old man has got some big brass ones, I only hope he can buy us enough time! he thought as he dropped through the opening and deftly climbed down the narrow ladder into the building’s interior.
The swarm was crossing the pool parking lot, 250 meters away from Reese’s position when he spotted the man again. He appeared to be in his 20’s with long shaggy brown hair and beard. What set him apart from the swarm was the stained and ragged white dress shirt with a tie still neatly knotted around the creature’s neck and a pair of shredded khaki slacks that he still wore, unlike most of the other creatures who were pantless. The man stopped at the tracks of the kiddy railroad and while the swarms surged around him, looked up toward Kyle’s position.
He’s looking for me, Reese thought. He put the mil-dot reticle corresponding to the distance on the crazy’s chest. There was no appreciable wind and even if there was, at 200 meters it wouldn’t significantly affect the bullet trajectory. He took in a deep breath and let it out halfway, his finger tightening on the rifle’s trigger. The 3-pound trigger broke right where he expected it to and the rifle kicked into his shoulder. He saw the puff of red as the round tore through the man’s chest and watched him collapse within the stampede raging around him only to be smothered by the river of creatures as they pushed mindlessly by. The swarm hesitated momentarily, unsure of their direction, but then the masses behind forced those in front to continue their relentless pace. At least they were moving slower now.
Where are the others?
He moved the 10 power scope’s view along the leading edge of the advancing swarm, however, they were now too close and moving too unpredictably to focus on the individual members. Kyle cursed silently and pushed himself up off the ledge and, leaving the rifle where it lay, sped off for the roof opening. He felt some sense of satisfaction at killing one of the presumed leaders; he only wished he had had the chance to do the same to the other three. He knew there was no stopping the racing tide of creatures as they flocked toward the walls and fence of the compound.
I just hope it slows them long enough for me to jump on a Stryker before it leaves!
He jumped through the hatch and almost missed the ladder, sliding down several feet, the friction burning the skin on his hands before a foot finally found purchase on a rung. Within seconds he was on the floor of the second story and racing for the staircase. He was pleased to see that at least this level was deserted of personnel. At the bottom of the stairwell in the hallway was a ready weapon rack that each member kept a firearm secured in for just such an occasion. The rack was now empty except for Kyle’s M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. He had only the night before torn the light machinegun down for a cleaning and lubing and had placed it back in the ready rack with a 200 round box magazine attached and already loaded into the feeder. The rifle was in condition one and ready to rock and roll. There was nothing like belt-fed hotness to warm the soul. He grabbed the rifle as he sped by the rack, switching off the safety with his thumb then rammed the release bar for the exterior door with his hip and burst out into the daylight.
The first of the crazies were already climbing the fence.
The Strykers were moving, Hernandez had hers aimed for the gate and, with the engine screaming at full throttle, rammed the chain-link and it folded and collapsed around the heavy, speeding vehicle as it shot out onto the road. The Ready Stryker was right on its tail with Nantz poking out of a deck hatch with another SAW. Nantz took a quick look at the older man and yelled something to him as the private opened up with the loud weapon. Kyle glanced over his left shoulder just as the main body of the swarm slammed into the fence. The structure bent inward precariously, throwing those who were climbing near the top to the ground like rag dolls. More bodies piled into the fence, mounding up like drifting snow until they began to pour over the top of the teetering chain-link, the first to reach the top getting tangled and cut to pieces in the rolls of razor wire lining the summit.
Nantz’s Stryker slammed to a stop halfway through the demolished gate and Shavers’ head appeared out the commander’s cupola hatch, yelling and motioning for Reese to run for it. Kyle heard the fence behind him topple to the ground over the chaotic noise of the crazies and the loud pounding of the M2. He glanced back over his shoulder as he sprinted for the Stryker. He was barely going to make it. Then he saw that the Stryker wouldn’t. Already the swarm was flanking the Armory and would be at the front gate in seconds. The Stryker would be overwhelmed and mobbed by the multitude of bodies before it could turn onto the street if it didn’t leave now. If it waited for him it would be too late.
He knew what he had to do. Kyle Reese glanced back one more time at Shavers and shook his head. Shavers’ eyes grew round and he yelled some order at him that was lost in the cacophony of the frenzied uproar coming down on him. He had to buy the vehicle some precious seconds. He opened up with the SAW from the hip, mowing down the front line of crazies as they were leaping for him in their killing lust. He laid down a thick wall of suppressive fire that slowed the lead elements of the crazies. However, the numbers were overwhelming and the monsters relentlessly pushed through the devastating fire, oblivious to the weapon that shattered their ranks.
Hell, I never thought I would live this long, he thought as one of the creatures bounded over the gun and slammed into his chest. He staggered backwards as the thing clasped his head and bit off his left ear. He gritted his teeth at the pain and threw the creature off of him while continuing to fire his weapon.
“Let’s dance motherfuckers!” he screamed, spitting 5.56 rounds from the barrel of his gun, slowing the advancing wall enough to allow the Stryker the few extra seconds needed to escape.
He squeezed the trigger on the M249 for the last time and tore apart more of the filthy beasts, before, like bounding animals from Hell, they unstoppably swarmed over him, blotting out his sight. He heard the Stryker behind him gun its engine down the street and away from the compound. A lopsided grin creased his tired-looking face one last time as, cigar stub clenched tightly between his teeth, he was crushed to the ground where he screamed a muffled “Semper Fi!” while the wave rolled over him. He disappeared into the moving turmoil of the enraged horde, a ripple in the sea of death.
Shavers watched as the man was lost to view beneath the charging river of raving-mad creatures. “God bless you, you brave, stupid old Marine,” he whispered under his breath as the Stryker sped away south. Rushing south along the lake, he spotted two of the crazies, standing by themselves near the tennis courts, impassively observing the fall of the Armory. Something about the two creatures’ disposition disturbed and frightened him. They both turned their heads and watched the two Strykers race past, their eyes momentarily locking with the First Sergeant’s.
His last view of the Armory was the swarm piling up along
its walls and overflowing around it, spilling out into the roadway after them. With the loss of all of their supplies and ammunition, they were now back to square one. There was plenty of ammo and arms at the annex, but using that place as a refuge was now out of the question. As easily as this swarm had torn through the Armory’s defenses, the OMS annex couldn’t be trusted as a defensive position, especially as exposed as it was and located so close to the other swarms.
They were headed to the refugee compound where the first disaster of the day should have portended the fall of the Gypsy Hill Base. There they could at least lick their wounds and determine what their next step should be. They had lost this battle, although the war was far from over, and with God’s grace he would live to fight it another day.
Jeremy listened sadly as Kera relayed their adventures to him since they had become separated all those months ago. It was a double blow to him, losing both his mother and father in one day. Kera put her arms around him and they both cried into each other’s shoulders. He peeked over her shoulder at the body of his father. It just wasn’t fair. Not right here. Not so close to finding each other again. How could God let that happen? The sorrow in his stomach soon turned cold and anger replaced it. He pushed away from the girl and stood up off the floor where they had been sitting cross-legged. He gritted his teeth and resolved in his mind that crying time was over. He would make his papa proud, he swore this to himself.
I have a job now, a job to wipe out these monsters from the face of this Earth, both human and Loony.
He swiped at his tear-stained cheeks and set his lips into a tight, bloodless grimace.
I’m part of the 29th now and they don’t want any crybabies fighting for them.
Whether he realized it or not, the last vestige of adolescence in his ten-year-old body died at that moment and he became a hardened man-child long before any kid should ever have to give up the joy and innocence of their youth. He stepped over to the window and stared out with thoughts that would never be the same again.
Kera watched him walk away and sensed the change that had taken place within him. She didn’t dwell on it long. She was too consumed by her own sorrow. Her lover, the father of her unborn child, now lay cold and lifeless on a table, killed by another of the human monsters that were all too common in this world gone mad. She would never love anyone like she had loved that man. A lonely hollowness echoed inside of her and she realized the only things she would ever be able to fill it with were hate and anger. She concluded that love for any other man was gone from her life forever. She had her own two charges now, Jeremy and the baby. Steven would have wanted her to look after the boy and she knew that was what she must do. There would be time for sorrow later, now was the time to be strong for all of their sakes. She knew she could love Jeremy like he was her own and hoped that he would be able to love and accept her. She already felt the love for what was growing inside her belly, that part of Steven that was all her own. That would have to be sufficient for her, as she had already loved a man enough for a lifetime in the past four months and now knew that he had loved her too. She steeled herself and stood. It was time to tell Steven goodbye and that she would love him, for the rest of her life.
Katherine sat in a chair with Angela sitting next to her, grasping her hand in a death-grip, shock evident on her small, pretty face. At least Angela was talking, asking a multitude of questions in her frightened, little-girl voice. To Katy, this was a good sign. The girl wasn’t withdrawing any further into her shell after experiencing another loss. When would it end: the killing and the loss of friends and loved ones? It just seemed that with the way things had become since the pandemic had hit, people should be trying to help each other survive, protecting each other, not this… this, shit! She was beginning to realize that the world wasn’t really full of rainbows and unicorns at all, and that people couldn’t be grouped into one category or another. Ying and Yang. There would always be bad with the good, beautiful with the ugly, loved ones and hated ones. That was the reality of the world. There was no Kumbaya. She winced in pain as Dontela tended her leg.
Dontela removed the gauze from Katy’s calf where the bullet had passed cleanly through. It was ugly looking, though she didn’t think it had caused any major damage. The girl would probably have a limp for the rest of her life. Katherine winced again when her friend pulled the bloody gauze off and immediately pressed a fresh piece against the wound before more blood could seep out. Dontela was in shock at what had happened earlier that afternoon. In the blink of an eye their joyous reverie had been reduced to utmost sorrow by some human garbage from the inner city. She felt no kindred to the black men and women who had perpetrated this bloodbath and now lay stacked like bloody cordwood against the fence, only a seething hatred. It had always been people like that who had stirred the fires of race hatred on either side of the color aisle. She was saddened to see that it had survived the Apocalypse. After wrapping a length of gauze around her friend’s calf, she stood and rubbed the swollen, painful knot on her head where the gangster had struck her with his gun. If she had her way she would work to eradicate anyone who hated someone else because that person was different. Whether it be from their own skin color, or religious preference, or hair color, or what they ate for breakfast, there was no room for that kind of hate in this diminished world. If they were going to rebuild society, people like that weren’t going to be welcome in it. Yeah, in and of itself, that was admitting her own prejudice, but damned if it wasn’t a justifiable prejudice. She stared at her rifle that leaned against the chair. It was the way of the gun now, and with a gun she would set things right.
An hour later, the two Strykers rolled into the refugee compound and pulled to a stop near a pile of blood soaked bodies. Sergeant Heinlich approached the vehicles as they cut their engines and personnel poured out and looked around with dazed eyes. The boy’s dog, Jumper, was the last out. First Sergeant Shavers had tried contacting Heinlich several times after they had retreated from the armory and had not been able to raise him. He assumed that the unit had been out of the Humvee and therefore radio contact.
“I didn’t expect you to bring the entire squad,” Heinlich remarked. “You only left Reese to hold down the fort?”
He knew almost instantly that something was amiss by the haunted look in all of their eyes.
“This is more than a rescue mission isn’t it?”
Shavers nodded. “We lost Gypsy Hill.” He explained to the Sergeant what had befallen the Thomas D. Howe Memorial Armory and the heroic actions of retired Marine Kyle Reese and his delaying actions that had allowed them to escape and had also resulted in his loss. As they walked toward the building where the others waited, the Sergeant filled Shavers in on the events of the past two days, including the gun battle that took place here with the group of gangsters who had tried to ambush them.
The body of Steven McQuinn was laid out on an office table in the far corner of the storefront. Beside him Shavers saw the dark-haired beauty that must be the girl named Kera. Standing by a window and staring out at nothing stood Jeremy, absently tracing patterns with a finger on the dirty glass. The dog spotted the boy instantly and bounded over to him, jumped up, and began licking his dry, salty cheeks. Jeremy wrapped his arm around the dog and hugged him tight, burying his face in the dog’s fur and murmuring something unintelligible.
Sarah was resting on a chair near the entryway and a smile split her face when she spotted PFC Nantz walk through the door behind the two Sergeants. She jumped out of her chair and the two raced into each other’s arms, laughing with relief that the other was safe.
A tall black woman, Dontela, according to Heinlich, was tending to another blonde girl’s leg, who was next to two other women that the Sergeant told him had been held captive by the D.C. gang and now stood free, dressed in ill-fitting clothing they had liberated from some of the dead bodies. A little girl, Angela, held on tightly to the blonde girl’s hand, sorrow haunting her large, dark eyes. The pretty black wo
man changed the blood-soaked bandage that covered the holes in the ex-sorority girl’s calf where the bullet had passed completely through.
What a shit sandwich we were all forced to eat today, Shavers thought, surveying the sad, weary bunch of refugees who would now look to him for leadership. Right now he had doubts that he should be the one doing this. He was exhausted to his core. He was tired of taking two steps back for every one forward, tired of an enemy who seemed unending in their numbers. Most of all, he was simply tired of losing good people. He felt like every one of them was damned. Someone else should be doing this!
No, he sighed to himself, it has to be me. He knew he was the glue that held these people together. The only other person who could possibly lead the 29th in this war was now lying dead, crushed and torn by an inhuman swarm of an unimaginable size back at the overrun armory. He would persist in this fight, and continue taking it to the enemy until he was physically unable. He would not quit and run. He owed it to these people. He owed it to Reese and Benton and the dozens of others who gave their all against impossible odds. He would reinforce the growing squad’s equipment from what could be liberated from the Annex and the Armory. They would find another building to call their base, someplace more impenetrable and easier to defend, far away from the larger swarms. They would get the Willy-Pete and payback would be brutal and final for the Staunton swarms. He squared his shoulders and stood taller as the group watched him, waiting for him to lead them, and lead them he would.
He walked over to Jeremy and placed one of his hands on the boy’s shoulder and tried to convey the sympathy he so strongly felt for the youngster. It was a rough world for any child to have to live in.
Maybe we were wrong, he thought when the boy glanced up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Maybe it’s these kids who are truly the children of the damned.
###