“Then it’s lucky that we came along,” said Southard, with a smile. “I saw you girls up there and I knew that we couldn’t leave you behind.”
“Really?” asked Miranda, excitedly.
I saw Spec-4 roll her eyes in the mirror and I had to suppress a chuckle. I could tell that she wasn’t impressed with the intelligence of our two newest rescues. Alyssa seemed ok, but Miranda wasn’t too bright. Southard didn’t seem to notice or care. He was only interested in how grateful they were for being rescued. He continued to chat them up while I just drove and ignored them.
Spec-4 crawled into the front seat and sat next to me. The Bronco had a bench seat in the front and could easily accommodate three adults in the front. And that’s just one of the reasons I loved cars from that time. They’re so much better than their modern counterparts. Call me old-fashioned, but I think cars from back then just had more style. That, and they were damned sure easier to work on.
Southard crawled into the back seat, to continue his conversation with the girls. Spec-4 stayed where she was, leaving the passenger seat empty. I had to smile at that. With a woman sitting that close to me I felt like I was a kid back in high school on a date, not trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. It might have been funny, had it not been for the fact that we were both wearing body armor and weapons. That kept things in perspective. You had to love the irony, though.
The residential area we drove through still had zombies in it, but we were fine so long as we kept moving. There were a lot of them, just not concentrated together into a group. That could’ve been a problem. The only time it got intense was when we were passing a church on our right. There were zombies galore in the parking lot of that church. Fortunately, the road was clear enough that we didn’t even slow down. We had to avoid quite a few abandoned cars, but we made it to Republic Road without incident.
As we got closer, I could see that James River Freeway was jam-packed with cars in both directions. No use in trying to go that way. By the look of the Freeway, I knew that the intersection to the east of us would be impassable. I decided that it wasn’t worth risking it. I was going to have to go the long way around to the Library.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s 1425 hours,” said Spec-4. “We have plenty of daylight left.”
“That’s not it,” I said. “I told Sergeant Daniels to turn his radio on at the top of every hour. That was almost twenty four hours ago. I haven’t been checking in.”
“I’ll set my alarm,” she said. “We’ll check in at 1500, assuming we haven’t made it to the Library by then.”
I nodded and turned right. This direction was mostly blocked with abandoned cars, but cleared up on the other side of the bridge. I had to drive on the shoulder and nearly scraped the side of the bridge, but we made it across. I intended to turn left, between the Church and the Chinese Restaurant, but the road was blocked. I would have to go farther west.
As I approached a large intersection, I had to drive to the far left hand side of the road and onto the sidewalk to get through. There was a collision in the middle of the intersection between a soda truck and a City Bus. The entire intersection was blocked with cars and zombies. If it hadn’t been for all of the cars blocking the area, they would have mobbed the Bronco.
On the northwest corner of the intersection was a grocery store. The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado. No glass remained in the front of the store. There were cars and shopping carts all over the parking lot. It looked like widespread looting was in effect when the zombies found them. Some of the shopping carts were still loaded with food. I made a quick mental note of that. No sense trying to get in there, right now. We were already full, almost to capacity. I really hoped that Sergeant Daniels and the others didn’t have much in the way of baggage.
Approaching the next road, I could see that a command center had been set up at the Catholic Church. There were military tents, vehicles and two helicopters on the parking lot. The entire place had been surrounded by a prefabricated fence. It was the kind of fence that can be transported and quickly assembled. The gate was shut, but we were on a slight hill and could see inside.
Curiously, the place looked abandoned. I could see body-bags piled near the parsonage, but no living or even quasi-living things were to be found. I quickly counted three deuce-and-a-half trucks, four Humvees (one of which was set up as an ambulance) and the two Blackhawk helicopters.
“Want to stop and scavenge?” asked Spec-4.
“We don’t have the room for any more stuff,” I replied.
“So, we let Southard stay in this with the girls and we take another Humvee,” she said.
“That just might work,” I said. “That’ll give us more room for people and gear. Chuck, what do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” he replied.
“Good,” I said. “When I pull in, you cover us while we make a quick scrounge run through the area. If you see anything, let us know.”
“Got it,” he replied.
“Chuck,” I said, “watch us, not the girls.”
Southard looked at me in the mirror and met my gaze.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No problem,” I said. “Just focus on us, for a few. Once we’re in a Humvee and moving, you can flirt till your heart’s content. I’ll take lead and use the armored vehicle to clear a path.”
Southard reached up and squeezed my shoulder.
“I’ve got your back, Wylie,” he said, seriously.
“I never doubted that for a second, Chuck.”
With that, I pulled up to the gate and stopped.
“Cover me while I open the gate,” I said, opening my door.
“I’ll do it,” said Spec-4. “You stay behind the wheel, in case we need to get moving in a hurry.”
Southard nodded and climbed out with her to provide cover. Spec-4 climbed up and onto the hood of the Bronco, then looked over the gate. Southard stepped up next to her and brought up his AK-47. Then Spec-4 leapt over the gate. It only took a few seconds for her to unlock the gate and swing it inward. I pulled into the parking lot as she shut the gate behind us. Even though we could still see zombies in the parking lot of the grocery store down the street, it was almost eerily quiet here.
“This just doesn’t feel right,” I said. “Let’s get what we need and get the hell out of here.”
“I’m with you,” said Spec-4, nodding agreement.
I climbed out the driver’s side door and brought my weapon up. Spec-4 came around on the passenger side with hers at the ready. Once I stepped clear, Southard jumped down off the hood and took my place by the driver’s door.
“Stay in the Bronco,” he said to the girls.
Southard brought his weapon up and nodded to me. I began walking slowly, weapon at the ready. I selected a Humvee that had an M-249 mounted on the roof. It was loaded and ready.
“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” I mumbled.
Spec-4 caught up with me and kept pace a few feet to my right. Her lips were pressed tightly together. She looked about as worried as I felt. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was very, very wrong here. I opened the door to the Humvee, expecting trouble. It was empty.
“Let’s take this one,” I said. “Grab anything you can and we’ll load it up. Don’t fill the backseat. We need to have room for the Sergeant and the others.”
“Got it,” she said, and started sweeping the area.
We spent the next few minutes scavenging. That’s when I started noticing blood on the ground next to abandoned weapons and empty shell casings. The hair on the back of my neck started to stand up. We rounded up several weapons and tossed them into the back of the Humvee. In one of the deuce and a half’s, we found ammo crates. We took those too. It was mostly 5.56mm and 7.62mm belted. There were a few cases of 9mm for the Berettas. We took all of that. We also snagged a couple crates of fragmentation grenades. I was happy that we were acquiring plenty of weapons. Now all we need
ed was enough people to actually use them.
I took the opportunity to reload with ammo for my M-16 and switched back to it. Not that the AK-47 is a bad weapon, but I’ve trained with the M-16 and can field strip one in the dark, if I have to. I wanted to stick with a weapon I knew well. Not to mention the fact that the 5.56mm rounds are lighter and I could carry more of them with less weight. Spec-4 followed suit and switched back to hers, as well. Still, I’d keep the AK in mind as a suitable replacement, especially if I could figure out how to mount the M-203 on it.
I made my way to the first of the two Blackhawks. I checked under the pilot’s seat and found what I was looking for; a pilot’s survival kit, complete with an HK-PDW[15] in 9mm. Also inside was an emergency radio and basic survival gear. I took the co-pilot’s kit, as well. Then I repeated the process on the other Blackhawk.
“How did you know those were there?” asked Spec-4.
“A friend of mine was a Blackhawk pilot in Desert Storm,” I replied. “He told me about them. They’re there in case the pilot gets shot down in occupied territory.”
“Good to know,” she replied. “Did you notice something about these vehicles?”
“Not really,” I said. “Why?”
“They aren’t ours,” she said. “They aren’t National Guard. These are Regular Army.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what the implications of that were, but Spec-4 seemed concerned by it. We finished grabbing all the gear we could lay our hands on, including the fuel cans from the all of the Humvees. Then I started pulling the M-249 off the roof of another Humvee. That’s when I saw the bodies.
“By the Gods!” I said, pointing to the field behind the church.
There were hundreds of them, all laying in rows. Even from here, I could see that they were different than the others. They all looked like they’d been shot before they turned. None of them had the horrific wounds or blood covered torsos. Many of them just looked like they had been preparing to leave. Then I saw the piles of luggage and personal effects.
“No,” I whispered.
“What?!” exclaimed Spec-4.
“I think these are the people from the Evac-center,” I almost whispered.
“No way,” she said. “Why would they do that?”
“I’ll tell you why,” said a voice from behind us.
I spun around quickly, and leveled my M-16 at a lone figure approaching. He had apparently exited the door of the church. He was wearing ACU’s like Spec-4, but I could see he wasn’t National Guard. As he walked, I caught a glimpse of his unit patch. It looked like a Griffon with a key grasped in its talons. His rank insignia showed he was a full bird colonel. He also had an MP-5 pointed at us.
“Hold it, right there,” I said.
Spec-4 looked confused, but kept her weapon trained on him. I was worried about that for a second.
“Keep your distance, Colonel,” I told him.
The colonel stopped and looked at me, quizzically.
“Do I know you?”
“No, sir,” I replied. “I’m ex-army. I recognized the eagle on your uniform.”
“Oh, I see,” he replied. “Have you been made aware of the recall ordered by the President? You’re to consider yourself back on active duty, son.”
“All things considered,” I said. “I’ll stay with the job I have, for the time being. I’m the acting Sheriff of this county.”
“Well then,” he said. “Sheriff, you have no infra-structure left. Your county government no longer exists.”
“That very well may be, sir,” I replied. “But I still have a duty to any survivors that I can find and rescue.”
“And how many do you really think that will be, son?” he asked, calmly.
I noted that the MP-5 never waivered.
“So far, over fifty,” I said.
That caught his attention.
“Really?” he asked, surprised. “Where are they?”
“From the look of that field behind us,” I said. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. Those are the people from the Evac-Center, aren’t they?”
“Not bad, Sheriff,” he said, mockingly. “How’d you figure that out?”
“Zombies don’t carry luggage,” I replied, gesturing to the pile.
“Nicely done,” he said. “You really should consider returning to active duty.”
“No thank you, sir,” I said. “What happened here?”
“There is a reason they call this the Springfield Containment Zone,” he said. “No one goes in, no one goes out.”
“Does that include you?” asked Spec-4.
“No,” replied the colonel.
I noticed that there wasn’t a name tag on his uniform.
“You executed all of these people, didn’t you?” she demanded.
“We’re containing the spread of the virus, Corporal Wilder,” he replied, frowning. “You should know that being in that uniform automatically puts you under my command.”
“Too late, sir,” I said. “She’s one of my deputies, now.”
“I don’t think that the authority of some hick sheriff from Podunk Missouri can over-ride the authority of the United States Army,” he replied, contemptuously.
“Well, maybe not. But the fact that we have you out-gunned just might do the trick.”
“For now, Sheriff,” he said. “My extraction team will be here, shortly. I’ll have you both taken into custody, then.”
“Really? Is that a fact?” I asked, adjusting my grip on my weapon.
“Unless you think you can kill me before I kill you,” he replied, gesturing at his MP-5 with a nod.
“Not me, sir. But he might.”
I nodded in the direction we had come from. Then I released my weapon with my left hand and made two quick gestures at the Colonel, pointing with my first two fingers.
“I won’t fall for that old trick,” he said. “You really are just a stupid hick, aren’t you?”
The gunshot took him by surprise. He had a confused look on his face as the red stain started to appear on his chest. Southard had shot him, not me. The un-named colonel managed to squeeze off a shot before he fell, but I was already moving. The shot went wide, and I kicked the gun out of his hand when he hit the ground. Spec-4 snatched it up and nodded at me.
“We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” I said.
Spec-4 just nodded and we both turned and ran for the Humvee. We could see a crowd of zombies coming our way from near the grocery store, but they weren’t going to get to us for a few more minutes. We dove into the Humvee and Southard jumped back into the Bronco. We were going to be leaving behind a hell of a lot of equipment, but if we stayed to collect it we’d be killed by the extraction team.
Spec-4 opened the gate and we drove both vehicles out onto the street. Then she pulled the gate shut behind us and ran for the passenger door of the Humvee. I was moving before she had her door shut. Then Spec-4 leaned across the divider and crawled into my lap, head first.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, surprised.
“Get us out of here,” she replied. “I’m going after the Blue Force Tracker.”
“What the hell is that?”
“It must have been after your time. It’s a GPS tracking module in all military vehicles. If there is a clean-up team coming in, they’ll be able to track us if I don’t kill it.”
Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) Page 29