Primal Resurrection: A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Novel: Book 8

by W. J. Lundy

  “But enough to fight the infected and save the reactor?” Chelsea asked.

  Sean shook his head side to side. “Nope, nobody for that. Best case, I say we gotta just keep the place secure long enough for them to softly shut it down and put her to sleep.”

  “Then what?” Brad asked.

  “Why are you asking me? You all didn’t have a plan of your own before you came out here?”

  Brad and Chelsea turned their eyes toward Luke. The man put up his hands. “Hey, I was on the assumption they would be able to help us… do something to fight back the infected. This is all sad news on my end, and to be honest with you, I got my own war and my own people back home.”

  Brad shook his head and looked at Gyles. The man looked down at his tray, not speaking.

  “I’m here to kill Primals, makes no difference to me where they at,” Joey said, shoving his tray away from him. He stood and began walking toward the door. “I don’t care what you other pussies decide.”

  Brad, Chelsea, and Brooks all quickly exchanged glances and, shoving away their own trays, headed for the door.

  “You’ve each got three hundred rounds on you. The Kevlar is light but will protect you from most of what the infected can throw at you.” Able pointed to a table of gear then held up a fabric shirt. “I’m sure you are familiar with bite shirts. Personally, I don’t wear one. Seen more than one man go out by being chewed to death, but it’s up to you.”

  “Chief Rogers tells me they’ve done some sniping, so I’ll leave you all to that. I’m giving you all a tower on the Lake Erie side. Hold the line as long as you can, then make your egress. We’re already shuttling civilians to the coast and loading boats. If you see flares over the main gate, drop whatever it is you are doing and haul ass, ’cause it’s all over.”

  “How long?” Brad asked.

  Able shook his head. “You all’s intel was spot-on. My Rangers came back and said there are thousands on the highway. They set up roadblocks and are already fighting them inside the city. They’ll be here by last light.”

  “They’re worse in the dark,” Sean said.

  Able nodded. “My boys will stall as long as we can, but we won’t get another day.”

  Brad looked at Able. “Have you heard from the two men we came in with?”

  The master sergeant shook his head. “They didn’t tell you? They left a while ago, said they had to get back to their camp, people counting on them and all of that. To each his own. I won’t hold anyone here even though I do appreciate your help.” Able frowned then handed Sean a handheld radio before turning to walk away. Sean and Brooks grabbed their gear and stood next to Joey. The time for debate was over. They left the building and followed a trail to their designated tower. In the distance, they could hear gunfire.

  The tower on the lakeshore side of the camp was tall and well-built. The trail stopped at the base of the tower then continued to the lake at the far side. They opened a door at the base and climbed to the top. They entered a large circular room with sliding glass windows on all sides. At both the lake side and plant side were doors that opened onto a wide catwalk. The tower wasn’t pre-fall, but Brad could tell that whoever built it had put in the time to do it right. He walked across the tower floor and joined the others on the catwalk. The sun was just beginning to set. They turned and looked toward the plant and places where the perimeter was nothing more than strands of chain link fence.

  “It was generous of them to give us this tower and put their own people in the trenches,” Chelsea said.

  Brooks laughed.

  “Something funny?” she asked.

  Sean slapped the younger SEAL’s back then looked at Chelsea and pointed in the distance at the line of vehicles rolling to the lakeshore. “You see them out there?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s at least a thousand yards through open terrain on the wrong side of the fence.” Sean turned and pointed to the trenches. “And over there, still a long haul, but it’s inside the wire and if—”

  “If?” Chelsea said, her eyes getting big.

  “If we do our job, they just might make it to the boats.”

  “What’s our job?” Chelsea asked.

  “We have overwatch. Once all the civilians are loaded, they’ll call to pull out the troops, and when they decide to pull back from those trenches, we’ll provide them cover. This tower is like a clock. The twelve faces the main approach the infected will use to attack the wire; I’ll set up here with Brooks. Three, six, and nine will be covered by you three. Don’t worry about defending the camp; you just defend this tower. Nothing gets up.”

  Chelsea nodded and went to speak again, but Sean cut her off. “But if it gets too rough and those flares pop, then it’s shit sandwich time and we must make it to that shoreline. We already discussed the distance and the side of the fence we are on.”

  Chelsea’s head scanned to all the places Sean hand pointed out. “Did you tell Master Sergeant Able about this?”

  “Oh yeah, I volunteered us for the tower duty.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked.

  Sean put a hand on her shoulder. “Because it keeps us all together and not spread out along some wall. If we must fight our way out, we’ll do it together.”

  She reached in and hugged Sean. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet. She turned and quickly walked to the other side of the tower.

  Sean looked at Brad and Joey. “Brooks and I will stay quiet and take long shots as long as we can; you guys try to not draw fire unless you have to. The less they think about this tower the better.”

  “You got it, Chief,” Joey said, walking over to his side of the tower.

  Brad stayed, looking at Sean, but he couldn’t speak so he turned and walked to his own spot on the tower and knelt. He pulled up his rifle and looked through the Trijicon optic. It was magnified, and the dot illuminated. He scanned the terrain in his sector. It was mostly gravel lots and buildings—all fenced in, all within his rifle’s range. He heard gunfire from the front of the camp, and he adjusted his position. Looking out into the sunset, he could see tracer fire as the Rangers made a fighting withdrawal from the city.

  “They should just keep running,” Chelsea said, startling Brad. He found her standing just beside him, watching the same events. “They should just keep running—no point in stopping here.”

  He wanted to argue with her and to reassure her, but he didn’t have the words. Instead, he bit at his lower lip and nodded. She moved closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and together they watched. The Rangers were in armored HUMVEEs, moving in leapfrog patterns, two racing away while two others held position and let loose with their turret-mounted machine guns. Once a pair of HUMVEEs had fled far enough back, they would stop, the gunners opening up, and the pair of trucks they’d left behind raced forward.

  They watched the vehicles move in the coordinated fashion. It was dark, and all they could see were the headlights and muzzle flashes. Brad was about to comment on the possibility of the convoy doing nothing more than leading the infected directly to them when he saw the first of the Primal ranks. It wasn’t a ball of them on the road, or a horde—it was a massive wall stretching across the horizon. As the vehicles entered the gates, the soldiers on the roofline opened fire, doing little to stop the hordes from moving against them. Explosions erupted from the field with bright flashes and white smoke as fireballs erupted into the sky.

  “They had the field mined?” Chelsea said, watching in fascination as fireballs rolled upward.

  “I guess it’s good we stuck to the road earlier and didn’t wander onto the lawn.”

  Chelsea squeezed his shoulder and jumped when a suppressed gunshot came from the front of the tower. Brad leaned out and saw that the infected had already begun to surround the perimeter and were attacking the trench line. Another shot and soon Sean and Brooks were rapid firing. Brad looked down below and saw a single figure in a bloody, white shirt running across the gravel lot towa
rd the trail leading to the escape boats. “They are already inside the wire,” he stuttered.

  Chelsea looked down, following his finger. She didn’t speak; instead, she ran to her position. Brad raised his rifle and focused on the man, aiming down at his legs to compensate for the speed. He watched the man stumble, and then pulled the trigger twice, seeing the thing roll into the gravel. He looked up and saw two more on the same path. He heard Joey’s and Chelsea’s rifles.

  Looking through his sights, Brad fired on the first then shifted fire to the second. He looked over the optic and now saw waves of them coming. The air was filled with gunfire, making it impossible to distinguish who it was coming from. He fired into the wave to his front, dropping and replacing magazines. Explosions erupted in the field and along the trench line. He scanned to the roof and spotted a mortar pit he hadn’t seen before. They were dropping rounds at max rate but were doing little to affect the waves of infected throwing themselves at the plant.

  Brad heard Joey scream something, and he took his eyes off the rifle long enough to look at the man through the glass enclosure. He was pointing down. Brad moved to the railing and could see infected piled around the exit door. The mass of their bodies was pressing it closed. He leaned over the rail and fired into the tops of their heads, adding a mass of bodies in front of the door. As the bodies dropped, he shuddered with the realization that they wouldn’t be able to open the door if they had to run.

  Like a cruel joke being played after it was too late, the flare popped into the air. Chelsea looked up at it and backed away from the railing. She moved toward Brad. “It’s time to go,” she shouted.

  Brad shook his head and pointed to the ground. “The door’s blocked.” He pointed to the distant trail that Sean had shown them earlier. It was now full of the infected; there would be no fighting through it. Out on the lake they could see the navigation lights of boats pulling away. Chelsea spun back toward the trench lines and the soldiers on the buildings. Everyone was still fighting. There would be no retreat. The flare was pulling more infected toward the buildings and away from the fleeing families of the camp. She shook her head rapidly. Brad let his rifle drop on its sling and pulled her in.

  Chapter 31

  Toledo City Limits, The Dead Lands

  The fighting and screams of the infected dragged on for hours. The team was now in the tower enclosure, hiding. There was no point in wasting rounds; the fighting was over. The plant was lost, every man for himself, fighting their own way out. They knew some had made it—they’d watched vehicles loaded with troops race out of the gate, firing. Others left rooftops into the buildings to barricade themselves inside. They had watched the navigation lights on the lake fade as the boats pulled away.

  Night became morning, the gunfire stopped, and the screams of the infected turned into moans. Brad was awake with Chelsea sleeping beside him. Sean sat in a chair in a corner, staring straight ahead, hardly moving as his eyes watched the horizon. He started when a chirp emanated from his pack. He looked at Brad then at the bag. “What the hell?”

  There was another chirp, and the others were awake, trying to identify the source of the sound. Sean yanked his bag close, reached into a front pouch, and pulled out a radio with a green light on the top. The light timed out and faded. The team looked at each other. When the radio chirped again, Sean bolted upright, nearly dropping it.

  “Any station, any station, this is Navy Helo Twelve Twenty-Six. Please respond.”

  Sean stared at the radio. He closed his eyes tight then opened them, pressing the button. “Uhh, Twelve Twenty-Six, uhh, we’re here.”

  “Last calling station, please identify. Over.”

  Sean looked at Brad, who tossed up his hands. Brooks was on his feet; he pointed at a sign that read Tower Five. Sean nodded and pressed the transmit button. “Twelve Twenty-Six, this is Tower Five of the Toledo Nuclear Reactor.”

  “Understood, Tower Five. What is the status of your reactor?”

  Sean stood and looked toward the plant. The trenches were gone and overrun, but he could still see soldiers stranded on the roof. The cooling towers were cold, with no steam leaving them. Sean pressed the button. “The reactor was safely shut down. Listen, we got people here on the roof and in my tower.”

  “Understood, Tower Five. We received your NERT call. We are coming to get you out.”

  Thank you for reading

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  About WJ Lundy

  W. J. Lundy is a still serving Veteran of the U.S. Military with service in Afghanistan. He has over 16 years of combined service with the Army and Navy in Europe, the Balkans and Southwest Asia. W.J. is an avid athlete, writer, backpacker and shooting enthusiast. He currently resides with his wife and daughter in Central Michigan.

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  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Series.

  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is an introduction into the apocalyptic world of Staff Sergeant Brad Thompson. A series with over 1,500 five-star reviews on Amazon.

  Alone in a foreign land. The radio goes quiet while on convoy in Afghanistan, a lost patrol alone in the desert. With his unit and his home base destroyed, Staff Sergeant Brad Thompson suddenly finds himself isolated and in command of a small group of men trying to survive in the Afghan wasteland.

  Every turn leads to danger. The local population has been afflicted with an illness that turns them into rabid animals. They pursue him and his men at every corner and stop. Struggling to hold his team together and unite survivors, he must fight and evade his way to safety.

  A fast paced zombie war story like no other.

  Escaping The Dead

  Tales of The Forgotten

  Only The Dead Live Forever

  Walking In The Shadow Of Death

  Something To Fight For

  Divided We Fall

  Bound By Honor

  Primal Resurrection

  Praise for Whiskey Tango Foxtrot:

  "The beginning of a fantastic story. Action packed and full of likeable characters. If you want military authenticity, look no further. You won't be sorry."

  -Owen Baillie, Author of Best-selling series, Invasion of the Dead.

  "A brilliantly entertaining post-apocalyptic thriller. You'll find it hard to putdown"

  -Darren Wearmouth, Best-selling author of First Activation, Critical Dawn, Sixth Cycle

  "W.J. Lundy captured two things I love in one novel--military and zombies!"

  -Terri King, Editor Death Throes Webzine

  "War is horror and having a horror set during wartime works well in this story. Highly recommended!"

  -Allen Gamboa, Author of Dead Island: Operation Zulu

  "There are good books in this genre, and then there are the ones that stand out from the rest-- the ones that make me want to purchase all the books in the series in one shot and keep reading. W.J. Lundy's Whiskey Tango Foxtrot falls into the latter category."

  -Under the Oaks reviews

  "The author's unique skills set this one apart from the masses of other zombie novels making it one of the most exciting that I have read so far."

  -HJ Harry, of Author Splinter

  The Invasion Trilogy

  The Darkness is a fast-paced story of survival that brings the apocalypse to Main Street USA.

  While the world falls apart, Jacob Anderson barricades his family behind locked doors. News reports tell of civil unrest in the streets, murders, and disappearances; citizens are warned to remain behind locked doors. When Jacob becomes witness to horrible events and the alarming actions of his neighbors, he and his family realize everything is far worse than being reported.

  Every father's nightma
re comes true as Jacob's normal life--and a promise to protect his family--is torn apart.

  From the Best-Selling Author of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot comes a new telling of Armageddon.

  The Darkness

  The Shadows

  The Light

  Praise for the Invasion Trilogy:

  "The Darkness is like an air raid siren that won't shut off; thrilling and downright horrifying!" Nicholas Sansbury Smith, Best Selling Author of Orbs and The Extinction Cycle.

  "Absolutely amazing. This story hooked me from the first page and didn't let up. I read the story in one sitting and now I am desperate for more. ...Mr. Lundy has definitely broken new ground with this tale of humanity, sacrifice and love of family ... In short, read this book." William Allen, Author of Walking in the Rain.

  "First book I've pre-ordered before it was published. Well done story of survival with a relentless pace, great action, and characters I cared about! Some scenes are still in my head!" Stephen A. North, Author of Dead Tide and The Drifter.

  A new military thriller from WJ Lundy

  Donovan’s War

  With everything around, him gone. Tommy Donovan must return to the war he has been hiding from. When his sister is taken, the Government fails to act. Tommy Donovan will take the law into his own hands. But, this time he isn't a soldier, and there will be no laws to protect evil. This time it's personal and he is making the rules.

  Resigned to never finding peace from the war long behind him, retired warrior, Thomas Donovan, is now faced with an even deadlier conflict... one that could cost him the last of his humanity.