Primal Resurrection: A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Novel: Book 8

by W. J. Lundy

  Soon after, the gates of the facility began to open, and a pair of electric golf carts rolled out before the gates were closed behind them. The carts rolled toward them. The one on Brad’s left carried two men in uniform while the one on the right, four. The cart with more soldiers veered off to Brad’s right and stopped, the soldiers quickly exiting and spreading out, still holding their weapons at low ready. The left cart rolled right up to them and stopped when it was less than ten yards away.

  The men stared them down and whispered something to each other before the driver of the cart spoke into a handheld radio. The passenger exited the cart and took a step closer. He was tall, mid-forties with grey speckling his dark hair. He wasn’t carrying a rifle, but a handgun was strapped to his chest over body armor. Master Sergeant rank and the name Able, was stenciled below it.

  “Huh,” he grunted. “Thought you all were one of our returning patrols.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Master Sergeant,” Luke said.

  The man shrugged. “So if you aren’t my boys, who the hell are you?”

  Luke pointed a finger to Gyles. “We’re from Michigan, these two from Texas.”

  “Texas?” the man said.

  Brad waved a hand. “Not exactly. We’re from a survivors’ compound in the Virginias run by Lieutenant Colonel Dan Cloud. It was set up with help from Rangers out of Savanah Georgia.”

  “Rangers, you say?” the man said, looking at a Ranger scroll on his own left sleeve. “If that’s true, give me a name.”

  “Colonel Erickson,” Brad said.

  The master sergeant held his expression and looked back at the soldier in the golf cart behind him. “Seventy-Fifth, Master Sergeant,” the soldier said.

  Able scowled. “I know who in the hell he is; I just thought the ornery son of a bitch was dead. Been a bit since I’d heard that name.” He looked back at Brad. “Where is Ericson now?”

  Brad shook his head. “It was over two years ago. Last I know, he moved what was left of the Third and the Seventy-Fifth down to Fort Sam Houston to help deliver the vaccine.”

  Laughing, Able dropped his hands to his hips. “You mean Erickson and my own Bat were responsible for delivering the vaccine?”

  “Yeah, we secured it, and he delivered it to Sam Huston for production. I guess you know the rest,” Brad said.

  “You know… I always wondered why the vaccine went out the way it did; how it went to everyone with no questions asked. When we heard there was a cure, I thought for sure some asshole would try and keep it to himself and use it for a shitty power trip.”

  “Erickson and Cloud wanted to make sure everyone had access to it.”

  Able nodded. “Still, your man there says you’re with Texas, but you say you’re not.”

  Brad looked at the man in front of him and let his eyes scan to the four standing over watch farther back. He looked at Luke, and the man flashed his palms in mock surrender. “To hell with it,” Brad said to himself. He looked back to Abel. “We had some scumbags attack our compound; they killed a lot of our people. Took a lot more—women and children—before they burned our compound.”

  Able nodded. “I see. And Texas?”

  “They came to our assistance.”

  “And the ones that attacked you?” Able asked.

  “We killed them—all of them. I put a bullet in their leader’s face myself,” Brad said.

  “This one you killed, he have a name?” Able asked.

  Chelsea turned, looked at him harshly, and shook her head.

  Brad winked at her. “He called himself a general, but he was more of a coward and a rapist. He went down hiding behind a woman. His people called him Carson.”

  “Well, hell,” Able said. “Erickson is alive, and Carson is confirmed dead. And they said Christmas don’t come to the deadlands.” Able stepped forward and looked at Brad harshly. “I got another question for you, and how you answer will determine what comes next.”

  “Go for it,” Brad said.

  “We’re missing a battalion that didn’t check in last night; you know anything about that?” the man asked.

  “What the hell are the four of us going to do to a battalion?” Brad said, smirking.

  Able laughed. “Yeah, I thought so. Communications from the south have been shit for a while.” The man stepped closer and extended his hand. Brad hesitated but returned the handshake.

  Able looked at him close and spoke lower so his men behind him couldn’t hear. “Carson was a rapist and a murderer. He had a lot of control in the Republic, but he in no way spoke for us.”

  “But they said he was the Republic,” Chelsea said.

  Able looked at her and pursed his lips. “No—he was not. In fact, the only reason we now have troops in this reactor is because he’s vanished. Regular army are starting to move into all his former holdings. You should see the faces of the folks when we arrive; they act like we are their liberators.”

  “Then what about the attacks on Michigan?” Gyles spat out, breaking the mood.

  Able sighed. “They are still out there, lots of raiders still in the badlands, and not everyone at home agrees with how the country is supposed to look. It’s hard to explain.”

  Luke stepped forward. “I don’t think we’ll have time for it. Fighting over what’s left of the country isn’t why we’re here.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  Luke rubbed his chin with his left hand. “The Primals are massing in numbers we’ve never seen before—they’re hording, and they’re on the move.”

  Able nodded. “We know that already; millions are migrating up the East Coast from DC and out of New York. We’ve already sent the last of our regular units that way. It’s half the reason they are so worried about the battalion down south; they want them recalled back to Philly. If shit gets hairy, they’re all we’ll have in reserve besides some local militias.”

  Gyles frowned and shook his head. “It’s more than that… we’re tracking other masses from Chicago and Detroit, and we don’t even know about the other big cities like Columbus and Indy. Master Sergeant, you’ve got a horde right on your city limits west of Toronto. If we don’t do something, we’re talking about a second fall.”

  “What kind of numbers?” Able asked.

  “My scouts estimated three million moving by way of Chicago, maybe another million out of Detroit.”

  “Hell, we haven’t even got a thousand soldiers total.” Able lifted the handheld radio to his lips. “Open the gate, we’re coming in.” He turned to Luke. “I’ve had scouts in the city the last week. They’re showing an increase in activity, but nothing like that. Come on, we need to compare notes.”

  Chapter 29

  Three Corners Outpost, West of Lancaster, Ohio. The Dead Lands

  Spencer fired into the face of a charging creature; the thing’s head snapped back, and he adjusted fire to the left, clipping a female and another male just pulling out of the hole. His bolt locked back, and he pressed the magazine release, letting the empty drop to the deck before reaching for another in his vest. The pouches were all empty. He reached to his back and pulled out one of the three he kept there. Locking in the mag and letting the bolt fly forward, he was back in the fight. He turned and yelled at Sean, “If you have a ride, it better hurry; I’m drying up on ammo here.”

  Grunting, Sean took the last bandoleers of .223 from an ammo can then threw the empty steel box toward the hole, smacking an infected in the head. He dropped the bandoleers on a table near the Baker boys, who were feverishly reloading the empties. Turning back toward the distant barn fire, he scanned with his optics. There were no signs of Brooks and Joey. He second-guessed himself; maybe the fire was their demise and not a signal or a distraction to draw the infected away.

  His eyes moved away to the left and toward the distant block building ringed with the tiny perimeter fence that was more for show than purpose. He could see no sign of the people he knew were hiding inside. Regardless of what happened up here o
n this roof, those people would be okay. Well, as okay as being surrounded in a sea of Primals can be. But once this fight was over, the Primals would move on. He turned and looked back into the courtyard. The infected had thinned out—even in the areas surrounding them, the infected had moved on toward the barn. Only those inside the building still determined to get at them on the roof remained.

  “There!” he heard Billy yell. “Chief, are those your guys?”

  Sean spun toward Billy, who’d positioned himself high on an air-conditioning unit so that he could fire down into the hole. The young soldier was pointing toward the back approach to the compound. Two SUVs were racing across the field, one pulling a trailer. “That’s them. Let’s go, boys. Peel out of the fight and get set up down below!”

  Spencer turned toward the Bakers and stuffed filled mags back into his vest. “You all go first; I got this.”

  Sean moved around and pushed up next to Henry and Riley, who were working carbines of their own. “Go secure the ground and get loaded. As soon as I see your asses go over that roofline, look out because I’ll be coming in hot.”

  Riley grunted. “I’ll be looking for you.”

  Moving up beside Spencer, Sean fired slow, methodical shots into the hole, taking down an infected with every trigger pull. When he turned back, he could see that all the men were off the roof, and Henry was straddling the edge. “Let’s go, Chief,” Henry shouted, raising his rifle and ready to cover them.

  Sean nodded and put a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. He guided the man back to the roof, allowing him to fire as they moved backward together. Sean reached the ropes, and the old man fired off the rest of his rounds and let the AR-15 drop. “See ya on the ground, boys,” Henry shouted, falling over the edge.

  As soon as Spencer stopped firing, they could hear the gunfire pick up below them and see the infected climbing from the hole. They tried to ignore the urge to keep fighting and gripped the rope, tossing their legs over the sides. They weren’t in rappelling gear, and there was nothing to slow them down except the friction on their worn shooting gloves. Sean burned down the three stories and collapsed in a heap in overgrown shrubbery. He kicked off the wall and rolled backward and onto the ground, looking up into the face of Riley, who was laughing at him. “Real graceful, buddy,” the red-bearded man shouted, reaching down and pulling him to his feet.

  “Stop playing grab ass; we gotta roll!” Brooks yelled from the Ford Explorer.

  Sean flipped him the bird and, looking to the vehicles, he could see the men had already piled into the overstuffed Tahoe and Ranger. He ran and jumped into the towed trailer with Spencer and Riley. He attempted to yell Go! but before he could, the vehicle was lunging forward, the trailer bouncing violently over the uneven ground. The air knocked out of him, he grabbed onto the sides of the trailer, being flung up and down. He saw Riley go airborne and dared letting go enough to grab the man and pull him back down into the trailer.

  “Holy shit, your boy can drive,” Riley grunted as the trailer finally evened out onto a blacktop road.

  Sean pivoted around to his backside, throwing coolers and canvas bags off him. He pushed up, twisted he neck, and could see Joey driving the Tahoe close behind them. “I’d like to say Brooks didn’t hit every bump to show his affection for me, but I don’t want to lie.”

  Spencer was on his hip gasping and sucking water from a drinking tube. Sean looked at him and the man nodded. “How far to Toledo?” Sean asked.

  “Three hours with open roads and we keep the pedal down.”

  Sean looked back down the road and could see it was clear; nothing was following them. That wouldn’t hold though. He knew from experience the things at the outpost would already be gathering around their departure point and would soon be headed in their last known direction. It was good news for those hiding in the block building, but bad for them. Brooks had fled north, not knowing the plan to go that way to Toledo. If he’d been privy, he would have escaped to the south or east. Spilled milk at this point, Sean thought. He shifted up to sit against the edge of the trailer and caught Brooks’s eye in the rearview mirror. Sean held up a fist, signaling for the driver to stop. Brooks nodded, and the vehicle slowed.

  The Explorer eased over with the Tahoe pulling up on the left side. As soon as they came to a halt, a rear door flung open in the Tahoe and Doug Jones dropped out, vomiting on the ground. Sean leapt out of the trailer. Walking past the ill man, he looked down at him and said, “Thanks for saving it for when we weren’t busy.”

  “You’re welcome, Chief,” the man coughed between gags.

  Sean moved to the front of the Explorer. Brooks had his window down but was still in the driver’s seat with the engine running, “Cut it a bit close back there, didn’t ya, Chief?”

  Sean shrugged. “You were running late. I thought you’d never show up.”

  “Yeah, forgot to set my alarm clock. You get me that bottle of booze ya promised?”

  Shaking his head, Sean showed his empty palms. “Maybe next time. We drank the last bottle waiting on you.”

  “I see,” Brooks said, flipping him off. “What’s the call?”

  “Toledo,” Spencer said, walking forward.

  “Who’s your new friend?” Brooks asked.

  “Long story, but we’ve got solid intel of a horde to the south… could be far bigger than the one we just ran away from.”

  “Larger? How much larger?”

  Spencer exhaled through pursed lips. “Large enough to wipe out a two-hundred-man battalion.”

  Brooks held his hand over his eyes then reached across the vehicle and unfolded a map. “Toledo is due north—straight shot. We should get going if that’s the plan.”

  “Nope,” someone said from the back.

  Sean turned around and saw Riley. He had a pack on his back and was stuffing spare magazines from the trailer into his pockets. Sean looked at him, trying to gauge if he was a threat. “What do you mean nope?”

  “We’re going back,” Riley said, the Baker boys moving up next to him. Henry stood behind them, stuffing tobacco into his pipe.

  “Back where?” Sean asked.

  “The ranch first, then the Three Corners,” Lucas, the older of the two Baker boys, said. “We aren’t leaving those people back there to die.”

  Sean looked at the boy’s determination then to Henry. “You in on this, old timer?”

  Henry finished packing and lit the pipe, exhaling deeply. “I’ll stick with ’em—at least until they get to the ranch. You got yourself a good mission here; I think you all have enough to keep busy without me.”

  “And you, Riley?” Sean asked the red-bearded man. “You’re not the type to be giving a shit about others.”

  Smirking, he stared back at Sean. “I’ve left folks to die before. Not fixing on doing it again.”

  “That’s not what this is,” Sean said. “If anything, we saved them and gave ’em time to get away.”

  Riley nodded. “I get that, but we got to go back for ’em now, and I know that’s not in the cards if we stick with you.”

  “Boss,” Brooks said from the driver’s seat. He pointed at the rearview mirror. Sean looked back down the road and could see the first of several Primals moving toward them.

  “Bastards are fast,” Sean said. He looked at the men on the road facing him then pointed to the Tahoe. “Okay, take the truck and go. Stick to the main roads, and don’t stop until you get back to the Baker ranch. Once we wrap up, we’ll send help if we can.”

  Henry shot a mock salute. “Don’t worry about us; no need to come back. I’ll make my way back down to Crabtree and send word to you somehow. Boys like us know as much about surviving as you all do.”

  Sean returned the salute and told them to go before he changed his mind. He watched them pile into the Tahoe and drive off to the north, looking for a new route to get south. When they were gone, Sean found himself on the street, looking at Spencer and his troops.

  “Captain,” Sean said. “
Put your boys in the trailer. I’m not giving Brooks another chance to kill me.”

  Spencer smiled and pointed at Bill, who pulled Doug back to his feet and helped him climb in. “Any luck on the radio?” Sean asked.

  The man shook his head. “Every freq is dead. I’ll try pinging Toledo when we get closer.”

  Sean moved and boarded the Explorer behind Brooks, with Spencer climbing in beside him. Joey was looking back at him with a toothy grin, and Sean almost laughed. “Damn, son, you happy to see me, or what?”

  “Thought you were done for, Chief,” Joey said.

  “Well, I’m not.”

  Joey nodded and laughed. “Brooks said you were too mean and ugly for a Primal to bite. But I was still worried.”

  Sean looked over his shoulder and could see that the jogging infected were within a hundred yards. “Well, as much as I appreciate the concern, Brooks, would you mind getting out of here before those things take a bite out of my ass?”

  The Explorer raced ahead. Spencer reached into his pack and pulled out a canvas map bag. Removing a notebook, he flipped through it and turned to a page. He leaned forward between the seats and showed it to Brooks. “The camp is a nuclear reactor on Lake Erie. This is the most direct route to avoid built up areas.”

  “A nuke power plant?” Sean said. “I thought all of them were shut down and evacuated during the fall.”

  “Not all,” Spencer said. “About a half dozen are still running under military control, and we just got this one back.”

  “What do you mean you just got it back?” Sean asked. “Who had it?”

  “It was sorta between hands,” Spencer said. “Carson’s people had it—sort of. They were using it as a staging area for some of their operations toward the Michigan Safe Zone. With Carson gone, we pushed back in and secured it for the New Republic.”

  “What do you know about Carson?” Brooks said, looking back in the mirror.

  “Not much,” Spencer said. “We never operated close to his people. They always pushed out far ahead of us, secured the terrain, then we would come in to hold it. They had some things going on up around Michigan, and more recently, were pushing south, following the railroad. It’s all tapered off now and the military is moving in to secure the ground.”