“Hey little sister, what have you done? Hey little sister who’s your only one?”
I turned down the radio and shook my head.
“That’s terrible,” said Spec-4.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “He’s out of the running for American Idol.”
“That’s not what I meant. That poor girl had her wedding ruined by zombies.”
“I’m pretty sure the zombies ruined a lot of people’s plans,” I said.
Spec-4 just nodded, and turned her head to look at the white dress clad zombie as we drove past. The group moved to follow us, but we were moving too fast. That didn’t stop them from following us, but they were no threat. I continued on west, dodging around abandoned cars and debris in the road. Debris that was both human and otherwise. When I reached Grant Street, I turned north.
“Grant Street,” said Spec-4. “That’s funny.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, chuckling.
About that time I heard Sanders start in on the M-249, behind us. I started craning my neck, trying to see what he was shooting at. Spec-4 was up and out the turret, in an instant. I turned up my radio to hear a partial garbled communication. Behind us, I could hear the rapid reports of the M-249 as it spat out it’s lethal fury.
“…….fire……behind…..over.”
“10-9,” I said into the mic. “Say again.”
“Wylie,” said Southard, a note of panic in his voice. “We’re taking fire from behind us.”
I hit the brakes and slid sideways in the road, so I could see behind us. I could see a big pick-up truck with two people inside the cab and about six standing in the bed. All of the ones in the bed were armed and were firing on us. Sanders was already engaging them, but they were swerving around faster than he could adjust his shooting.
“Return fire,” I yelled at Spec-4.
Spec-4 cut loose with the SAW, by way of response. She raked the front of the pick-up with automatic fire. The truck immediately slewed sideways and hit a parked car. Three of the men in the back went flying over the top of the cab. Sanders began working the bed of the truck with his SAW. In seconds, it was over. Whoever they had been, we’d effectively cut them to ribbons.
“Check fire,” I yelled into the radio.
The following silence was eerie.
“Anyone hurt?” I said, transmitting.
“I’m fine,” said Southard.
“I took two to the back,” said Sanders. “But my vest stopped them. Hurt like a bitch, though.”
Spec-4 just gave me a quick thumbs-up, when I looked up at her.
“Wilder, Sanders, cover us,” I said. “Chuck, we’re going looting.”
I drove back to the wreckage that had once been a decently nice Toyota pick-up. The SAW had turned the occupants of the cab into hamburger. Southard and I bailed out and brought up our weapons.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” I said to Spec-4, as I advanced towards the truck.
Southard and I advanced tactically, weapons at the ready. We made eye contact and I gave him a slight nod. Then we split and went in opposite directions around the truck. I saw one survivor, but he wasn’t going to last long. I could see the bubbles in the blood on his chest. He was finished. It was just a matter of time.
He looked familiar, though. He had a wife beater tank top on and torn up jeans. Numerous tattoos on his arms looked like the kind done in a correctional facility. There were large spacers in each ear-lobe, and his eyebrows and nose were pierced. Across his neck was tattoos the words, “Bitch Please.” I didn’t remember his name, but I definitely recognized that tattoo.
“Why did you attack us?” I asked him.
His eyes focused on me and he gasped, trying to speak.
“F…F…Fu…,” he gasped, choking on the blood pouring from his mouth.
“Yeah, fuck you too, asshole,” said Southard, sneering at him. “I hope the zombies get you before you bleed out, you son-of-bitch.”
We started grabbing guns, and ignored the dying man. I wasn’t going to waste any more ammo on the dumb-ass. Let him suffer. You don’t shoot one of mine in the back and expect mercy out of me. It was an odd assortment of weapons. We grabbed two duffle bags that were still in the bed of the truck and started loading them. The bags were full of ammunition and extra magazines. I took a mental inventory as we picked up the guns.
Each of them had at least one pistol. Most of them were automatics, but there were a couple of revolvers. All in all, six automatic 9mm’s of various makes, two automatic .45’s and the revolvers all appeared to be .357 magnums. We also took three 12 gauge shotguns and four assault rifles. The assault rifles were all 5.56mm AR style. I didn’t bother to count the ammo.
About a dozen zombies were coming towards us from different directions by the time we headed back to the Humvees. I tossed the guns and ammo into the back of mine and headed for the driver’s door. There was no reason to fire on the zombies, since they weren’t going to get close enough to us to be a threat. I turned my Humvee around and resumed our original course, with Southard right behind me.
“Everyone back inside,” I said into the radio.
“Copy,” said Sanders.
I could see him disappear back inside, in the mirror. Spec-4 dropped back inside and sealed the hatch. Seconds later, she was back in the front seat.
“You ok?”
“Me? I’m fine,” I said. “How about you?”
“Not a scratch.”
“You guys ok?” I asked, on the radio.
“I’m good,” said Southard. “Cal’s pretty sore, but not bleeding.”
“Yeah,” said Cal, “and I’m pissed off, too.”
“Count yourself lucky,” I replied. “If any of those meth-heads could shoot, you’d be dead. Even your skull won’t stop a bullet.”
“I know,” said Sanders. “I should have been inside. It won’t happen, again.”
“Good,” I said. “If someone shoots at us, we’ll shoot back. But let’s make sure that their first volley only hits armor.”
“Copy that,” said Southard.
When we reached Division Street, I could see a large crowd of zombies on our right. They were still several blocks away near the hospital, but closer than I wanted them to be. Then they were out of sight, behind houses. Another block down the road, and we were at Commercial. I turned right, taking us back east. I hoped that we were far enough away to not attract the attention of the zombies at the hospital. The street was mostly clear of cars. Although there were more zombies than usual, walking around on the sidewalks and in the road.
“Why are there so many zombies up here?” asked Spec-4.
“The Mo-Ho,” I said.
“The what?”
“The Missouri Hotel. It’s a homeless shelter. I’m sure that it hit the homeless harder than the rest of us. They don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Ahh,” said Spec-4.
“Hey, Wylie,” said Southard, on the radio. “Looks like the Mo-Ho got hit, too.”
“Yeah, we were just saying that,” I said. “Don’t let them swarm us. I think we can get through.”
“Can’t we go farther north?” asked Southard.
“There are only two options that go all the way through,” I said. “Dale Street and Kearney. We already saw what Kearney looks like.”
“Yeah, screw Kearney,” said Southard. “What about Dale?”
“It runs right behind the dorms from the Bible College.”
“Oh yeah, that place will be crawling with zombies, too.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I don’t want to risk it unless we have to.”
I could see that we were already getting a lot of zombie attention. It was decision time. I looked at Spec-4 and nodded. We needed to be ready to clear a path, if they headed into the road en masse. There were enough of them to do us considerable damage.
“Get on the SAW,” I said. “Get ready to punch us a hole.”
She smiled, and slid back into the turret. In seconds
, she was back behind the SAW and ready to fire.
“Say the word!” she yelled.
I hit the accelerator and headed down the middle of the road. It was mostly clear of vehicles, but there were quite a few zombies. Southard got right in line behind me and matched my speed. We were doing close to fifty miles per hour as we approached the front of the Mo-Ho. Spec-4 stayed on the gun, but held her fire.
Zombies were bouncing off of the bumper and the fenders. I kept the wheel straight, and gripped it like a vice. Then, inspiration hit me. I saw a train parked in the train-yard to my left. It was loaded with cars, pick-ups and mini-vans. If we timed it right, that would make one hell of a distraction.
“Wilder,” I shouted. “Light up that train.”
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
She shook her head, but swung the SAW around and engaged the train. Not to be outdone, I could see Sanders behind us. He lit up the train, too. In seconds, the cars started to catch fire and explode. It was going to be one hell of a fire. I kept the pedal to the floor and seconds later, we were shooting past the worst of the zombies and heading into clear streets.
“Cease fire,” I yelled into the radio.
Instantly, the firing stopped.
“Back inside and button down,” I said.
“Copy,” said Sanders.
Spec-4 dropped back inside and sealed the hatch. Climbing back into the front seat, she looked at me and smiled.
“Ok, was there a reason we shot up that train? Or do you just hate mini-vans?”
“Actually, yes I do hate mini-vans. But that’s not why I had you shoot them. If you make enough noise, you’ll draw away zombies from the hospital.”
“Great plan. Now we’ll have even more zombies down here to deal with.”
“That’s not it. If we draw enough of them away, we might have a shot at rescuing the officers trapped on the roof.”
“Oh, God,” she said. “There are people trapped on the roof?”
“There are two that we know of, for sure. I didn’t think that there’d be any way to get to them. There still may not be.”
“We could roll up with one vehicle and open fire,” she said. “Then, once we have their attention, we drive away slow enough that they can follow us.”
“You want us to be a zombie Pied Piper?”
“Once enough of them follow us away, we could take off and circle around. Maybe get close enough to get them out.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “Absolutely crazy. But it just might work.”
She grinned at me, and pulled a long lock of blonde hair away from her face and tucked it behind her left ear. I couldn’t help but smile back at her.
“That just might work,” I said. “But we should use two teams. The first team can draw them away and keep their attention. The other will be the extraction team.”
“How are they going to get down? I mean, I know we won’t get all of the zombies out of the hospital. There are probably hundreds of them inside.”
“The fire stairs,” I said. “There shouldn’t be many in the stairwells. With any luck at all, they should be able to come down the stairs with minimal contact.”
We continued on east until we reached the next intersection. The Spud cruiser that we’d looted on the first day was still there. Its lights were no longer flashing and there were only a few zombies milling around the area.
“Hey,” said Spec-4. “Didn’t we come through here the other day?”
“We sure did,” I said. “That’s where EMT grabbed the med bags.”
I pointed at the Ambulance sub-station on the corner.
“Hey, Wylie,” said Southard, from the radio. “There’s a liquor store to our left. It looks abandoned. Want to grab some supplies?”
“Negatory, Ghostrider,” I responded. “As much as we both like to have a drink, we have more important things to do.”
“I meant to make Molotov Cocktails,” he replied.
“That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “But, maybe later. We have grenades, anyway.”
“But they don’t catch shit on fire,” he said.
“True,” I replied. “But I think we’ll pass, for now.”
“Keep it in mind,” he said. “And I could grab some SoCo while we were at it.”
“Why on earth would you want that crap when we have Bushmills at the jail?”
“You might be a Mick,” he said. “But my family’s a bunch of hillbillies. I’ll take my Southern Comfort any day.”
“Suit yourself, you heathen,” I said.
“No, that would be you,” he countered.
“Touché,” I replied, grinning.
“Where exactly are we going?” asked Spec-4.
“Once we hit Glenstone,” I said. “We turn left. About a block down on the right is a hardware store. I want to hit it and try to find a manual pump and some hose.”
“Why?”
“With the power out, it’s the only way we’re going to get gas out of the ground tanks at the gas station.”
“Good point,” she said.
We were closing in on Glenstone, and I could see the cars blocking the intersection. I started slowing down when we were less than a hundred yards out. There was a pizza place on the left hand side and it was crawling with zombies. There was a tour bus in the parking lot and most of the zombies looked like an elderly tour group. Needless to say there weren’t many Sprinters in this crowd. It didn’t take long before they noticed us. One old lady in a red hat turned towards us and started shrieking. Spec-4 looked at me, expectantly.
“Go for it,” I said.
In a flash, she was back up into the turret. In the mirror, I could see Sanders doing the same thing. Spec-4 was a little quicker, and she started firing first. Sanders was only a couple seconds behind her, though. They started cutting down the geriatric ghouls, systematically sweeping back and forth with their fire. I grabbed another belt of ammo and held it up. I had timed it well, because right after that the SAW fell silent. Spec-4 looked down and started to say something, then grabbed the belt and started reloading.
“Thanks!” she yelled.
“No problem,” I replied.
I sat two more boxes of ammo within easy reach for her and started looking for a way through the traffic. If I could make it to the parking lot of the fitness center across the road, I could go through parking lots all the way to the hardware store. I looked to my left and saw an opening near the far side of the pizza place’s parking lot.
“Make me a hole in that crowd, but don’t catch anything on fire,” I yelled.
“On it,” said Spec-4.
She started firing again, as Sanders’ SAW fell silent. She swept a line of fire through the center of the largest knot of moldy oldies. Then I saw my opening. I turned the wheels to the left and hit the gas. I hoped that Southard would follow me and I smiled when he did. I should have known he’d stay on my six.
Ragnarok Rising: The Awakening (Book One of The Ragnarok Rising Saga) Page 37