United States of the Dead - 04

by Joseph Talluto

  Sarah stepped around the fireplace and kept her rifle on the squirming, squealing soldier. He was trying to crawl forward and as she stepped closer, he suddenly spun around and fired at her!

  Sarah ducked instinctively as the heavy bullet whipped past her head to bury itself in the heavy beams of the ceiling. She spun away to the other side of the fireplace, keeping it between her and Dent.

  Dent howled in pain and rage and dragged himself to the side of the fireplace. “You were dead to begin with, but I’m gonna fucking hurt you for this! You hear me?” he screamed at Sarah.

  “You talk too much,” Sarah said as she slowly backed away from the fireplace. She had both sides covered, so Dent couldn’t break cover without getting shot. Trouble is, Sarah thought. I can’t chase him down either. It was a stalemate, at least until Dent either bled to death or made a mistake.

  Sergeant Dent had turned himself around, cursing the entire time so he faced the fireplace. If the woman came to get him, he could send a few shots her way and maybe he could get lucky.

  Suddenly there was a fusillade of shots, with bits of rock and wood splintering and flying about and Sarah ducked, looking for the source. She heard a choking gasp, then a deep rattling noise, like someone was breathing their last. Curious, Sarah looked over her shoulder and saw that the shots had not come from her side of the room and the windows were all intact.

  Sarah slowly circled wide, keeping her carbine ready. She could see Dent’s feet and they weren’t moving. As she stepped closer, she could see the ruin that was the man’s butt and Sarah winced at how much that must have hurt. When she finally could get a clear look at the man, Sarah’s eyes grew wider at the bloody mess that used to be a man. Dent’s back had been hit at least five times and his head had been hit twice. The right side of his face had literally been blown away.

  Sarah looked back and saw Angela holding herself upright by the ramp railing, still pointing her gun at the fallen man. Her face was a study in anger, her one eye swollen and bruised and the only sound in the room was Angela’s labored breathing.

  Sarah quickly ran over to Angela and gently removed the gun from her hand.

  “Good job, Momma Bear. Let’s get you taken care of.” Sarah held up the other woman and led her to a room with a spare bed to get her some much needed attention.

  Chapter 8

  Mike Talon sat on a ledge overlooking LaSalle canyon. He had heard a few shots coming from the West, but they died down after a few minutes, leaving him to wonder if everyone was all right. More than once he looked futilely towards the canyon where his children and John’s were being hid, but they were beyond his sight. He wanted more than anything to go and protect his family, but Charlie had given him a duty and he would not let either Charlie or John down.

  It had been quite an eye-opening experience for Mike since those early days when he was trying to save his family from the slavering hordes. The river had been hard enough, but trying to survive in the Visitor Center had been brutal. When John had showed up, Mike hadn’t recognized him at all. Where his once easy-going brother had been, stood a combat-hardened veteran of the zombie war who showed no fear whatsoever of the undead. When Mike brought his family back to Leport, he was amazed at how many people spoke of John in terms of ‘hero’ and ‘leader’. When Mike found out about all that John had been through, he looked at his brother with new eyes. Mike found himself respecting his older brother and slightly envying him, as well. It was nice for a while to be known as the brother of John Talon, but Mike had this feeling in the back of his head that people were making comparisons and he was coming up short.

  That was a big part of the reason he wanted to bring his family back here. He wanted to prove he could contribute as well, that Mike Talon was as capable as his brother.

  Mike learned in the first few practice sessions that John had far outstripped him in the combat area. But John had insisted that Mike continue to train and Mike found that he had grown in confidence as well as ability over the past year. Zombies no longer frightened him and he found himself eagerly anticipating battle when zombies were on the horizon. John laughed when he told him this, saying it must be something in Talon blood because he did the same thing too.

  One thing Mike didn’t have to practice was with his handgun. Even John admitted Mike was the best handgun shot he had ever seen and much to Mike’s secret pleasure, John bragged about his brother every chance he got.

  All these thoughts ran through Mike’s head as he waited for something to happen. He figured he’d have to wait and then formulate his game plan, since he didn’t know for sure where the enemy was going to come from. His big worry was they would stop somewhere in front of him and he’d wind up chasing them through the woods.

  He checked his gun again, his beloved Beretta 92, making sure he had topped off all of his four magazines. The 9mm mags held twenty rounds each, which gave him eighty rounds to get the job done. He also had a ten inch field knife on his belt in case things got too close for comfort. Mike was good with the blade, not as good as Charlie or John, but could hold his own. He preferred the 9mm, though.

  Mike was staring at a squirrel when suddenly the squirrel perked up and stared out towards the South. He turned around and listened for a moment and in a minute he could hear a truck working its way along Route 71. Taking his pack, Mike ran carefully to the berm, staying hidden as the vehicle moved close, then passed.

  Mike popped his head up just as the truck moved away, noting the two men in the front seat and the two men riding in the back. Four was going to present a problem, but Mike hoped surprise would be enough of an advantage. He loped along the ditch, keeping the truck within earshot and when he heard the vehicle slow down, he left the relative safety of the berm and headed back for the trees.

  Once he was in the trees, he moved until he cut the trail which led to the other parts of the park. In total, the park was over three miles long and slightly over half a mile at its widest point. It was a secure place, something that Mike had longed for; his family and he had a job to do today to make sure it stayed that way.

  Mike followed the trail to the parking area where he was sure the truck was. It was the only logical place to make a back door assault and he smiled at how he was thinking so differently than he had been just a short time ago. Next I’ll be talking about staged assaults and pitched battles, he thought.

  Mike could hear voices as he approached the parking area and as he walked, a plan formed in his head. Tackling four men at once was suicide, but he figured he could whittle them down and take them out one at a time if he played things right.

  Mike crouched just inside the tree line and could see the four men talking and one of them was giving orders, a shorter Asian man. After a few seconds, the men started down the trail towards the trees, with the leader bringing up the rear. The men carried their rifles at the low ready, able to bring them up and fire very quickly. The man in charge didn’t have a rifle, just a nickel-plated firearm Mike couldn’t identify.

  Mike rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers, then stepped out of the trees directly in front of the men. “Four of you, hey?” he called out.

  The men stopped suddenly and the two on front raised their rifles. They hadn’t expected resistance this soon, which was part of Charlie’s plan. Always strike first and let the enemy react, rather than act.

  Private Deez Corpin, a former California Penal System regular, sneered at the sudden apparition and called over his shoulder to his companions. “Ain’t nothin’. Just one with a handgun and he’s fifty yards out.” Corpin adjusted his rifle and took aim at the stranger. “I got him.”

  Mike saw the rifle shift and swiftly drew his handgun, bringing it up to his vision, sighting quickly and pulling the trigger. Private Corpin’s sneer froze on his face as the 9mm bullet cracked into his forehead, snapping his head back and toppling him to the ground.

  “Jesus!” cried Captain Tamikara, ducking down behind the two men in front of him who had crou
ched as well at the sudden killing of their comrade. He aimed his weapon at the spot where the shot had come from, only to find that the man who fired on him was gone. From the trees a voice said plainly and clearly,

  “Three’s easier.”

  Tamikara swore and grabbed up the fallen soldier’s weapon. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled. “Get him!” he cursed at his men, both of whom showed no real interest in pursuing a man who just made a killing shot with a handgun at over fifty yards.

  The men, Privates Demitrius Inglis and Hector Cruz, shared a glance and shrugged. They couldn’t resist the order with Tamikara at their backs, since he would just as likely shoot them as the man who was now stalking them. Figuring speed was the best option, Private Inglis bolted from his position and ran head on into the forest, followed closely by Private Cruz. In the space of ten seconds, they had gained the edge of the forest. Without stopping, they plunged in, following the clear trail.

  Captain Tamikara was caught completely off guard. One minute he was behind two of his men, the next he was all by himself out in the open. He spent a minute cursing the two soldiers for abandoning him, but realized they did actually follow his orders. “Shit.” he whispered to the corpse at his feet. Tamikara looked around and quickly ran after his vanishing soldiers.

  Private Inglis moved down the trail, covering everything on his left while behind him, Private Cruz covered everything on his right. The two men worked well together, having been on the zombie cruise since the beginning. They didn’t enjoy what they had to do at Major Thorton’s or Captain Tamikara’s orders, but they recognized a better chance at survival at the cost of some morals and ethics.

  “When you gonna slow down, man?” Cruz said, whipping his rifle up to cover a rabbit that broke out from the trees on his side.

  “Watch and learn, bro. You see Tamikara anywhere?” Inglis said.

  “No, why?”

  “Chance to get free, right?” Inglis cast a smile over his shoulder at his friend.

  “Dude. That’s awesome! What’s the plan?” Cruz’s heart quickened when he thought about being away from the craziness of Thorton.

  Inglis swept his rifle around a large tree before answering. “Big river on the north has to have some boats somewhere. We get one, we get gone. No one find us ever again, just you and me.”

  Private Cruz smiled, suddenly having hope in his heart, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a small flash of light. Turning to see what it was, he was struck in the chest by a bullet, the hope in his heart replaced with a small caliber bullet. He took three steps and fell to the ground, wheezing out his last as he lay staring at the great canopy of leaves above his head.

  Private Inglis skidded to a stop as his friend fell, thinking at first he had just tripped over a branch or something. But he heard the echoing sound of the shot and when he saw he blood seeping out of Cruz’s chest, he knew exactly what happened.

  “Nooooo!” Demitrius screamed. “Hector, NO!” Inglis fired wildly into the woods, spraying bullets in every direction. He kept pulling the trigger until the gun went dry, then he reloaded and started firing again, tears blurring his vision as he stood over his fallen friend. No one had known that Hector and Demitrius were lovers and now Inglis was all alone.

  In the midst of his second round of firing, a second flash from the woods appeared and Demitrius felt something punch him in the chest. He looked down and saw dark blood pouring out of a small hole in his clothes. He immediately stopped firing and dropped his rifle from suddenly nerveless fingers. Falling to his knees, his head dropped down onto his chest. A snapping branch made him lift his head up and he could see a man approaching through blurred vision.

  Demitrius realized he was done for and lay down next to his companion and took Hector’s cold hand in his. As a tall man cautiously approached, Demetrius’ vision went red, then completely black.

  Mike Talon looked down at the two men he had killed, lying side by side. A small part of him felt remorse, but the practical side reasoned these men were here to kill him and his family.

  Looking up the trail, Mike saw movement and ducked back into the brush. His backpedalling feet discovered a hidden tree root and Mike fell backwards, crashing to the ground and loosing his grip on his Beretta, which flipped away behind him.

  The fourth man, the leader of the group came panting down the trail and Mike could hear him muttering and cursing as he came across the two corpses lying hand-in-hand on the trail. Mike dared not look up, because he was unarmed and had no idea where his weapon was at the moment. The ferns on the ground covered him and he knew he couldn’t be seen easily, but if he made a noise he was as good as dead.

  Captain Tamikara stared at the bodies of Cruz and Inglis, then crouched down, sweeping the forest with his rifle. He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean unseen eyes weren’t watching him right now, waiting to take another shot. Tamikara decided it would be better to keep moving, than just stand there and be a target. He had heard the firing and saw the spent shells around the bodies. He wondered if perhaps one of the men had wounded their attacker, but Tamikara dismissed that thought. Fucker wouldn’t have come here and made these two hold hands. Sick bastard. He thought.

  Tamikara moved down the trail again, trying to keep low and hoping a bullet wasn’t on its way to his back.

  Behind him, Mike Talon waited until he couldn’t hear his adversary’s footsteps on the rocky trail, then he sat up quickly, spinning around and scrambling frantically for his fallen weapon. He had to find it fast and he ducked down under the fern ground cover hoping to catch a glimpse. He looked around and thought he saw something shiny about ten feet away, but when he got to the spot it was just a piece of quartz.

  Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! He was getting frantic, as the man he was supposed to keep away from his family was heading in that direction and if he didn’t find his gun soon, he was going to have to confront him with nothing but his knife!

  Scrambling back and forth, diving up and down, Mike finally located his Beretta. The gun had actually flown much further than he had thought, but he grabbed it and made a mad dash down the trail after the other man, hoping he would be able to see him long enough to get a shot.

  Captain Tamikara bolted down the trail, nearly diving down the stairs that took him near the river. He righted himself just in time and pausing to catch his breath and wiped off his sweaty brow. Haven’t run this much in years, He thought as he held onto the railing. Gotta keep moving, no idea where the guy is who killed the other two.

  Tamikara followed the trail as it straightened out along the river. Dense forest was to his left and the lazy Illinois River babbled quietly against the shore to his right. Behind him, Mike Talon was racing for all he was worth.

  At the bottom of the stairs, another pursuer paused at the railing, then slipped into the woods as a man came crashing into the bottom of the trail, skidding along the gravel and coming to a stop three feet from the edge of a small inlet. Mike Talon groaned more with embarrassment than injury. He had forgotten about the stairs and when he came upon them unexpectedly, he tried to correct his speed, but it was too late. He literally flew down the stairs, skidded along the bottom four steps and crashed to earth at the base. As luck would have it, he managed to slam his knee into a step at the bottom, causing him to wince as he hauled himself painfully to his feet. At least I didn’t drop the fucking gun. he thought disgustedly. John would laugh his ass off if he knew. Mike had no intention of telling him, but this made the chase more desperate. Mike tried to move quickly, but his injured knee only allowed him a limping jog at best.

  Mike gritted his teeth, ignoring the sting of his scraped hands and arms and moved as quickly as he could.

  Ahead of him, Tamikara paused as he heard the crashing behind him. He didn’t know what to make of it, except that he wanted to make sure he was ahead of it and out of sight. In front of him the trail forked west and south and Tamikara knew he needed nothing to the north. But in an attempt to deceive h
is pursuer, the captain stepped carefully in the mud along the side of the south trail, then backtracked to the west trail, moving in the woods for a bit before taking to the trail again. It wasn’t much of a deception, but if it could delay for a minute, it would do. Tamikara was hoping to rendezvous with his other men at the lodge and make a finish of this matter once and for all.

  As he hurried along, cold eyes watched him carefully before slipping back into the dark hollows of the woods.

  Mike Talon cursed with every step. He was sweating from the pain of his fall and could feel his knee stiffening up on him. He tried bending it and keeping it loose, but he knew it was swelling and was going to slow him down even more. He couldn’t give up, though, he had to get to his wife and kids and make sure they were okay. That was his only focus right now. If he ran into the last man, great, but it wasn’t as big a priority anymore.

  As he limped towards a fork in the trail, Mike Talon briefly glanced down the south trail and noted the footprints in the mud. He smiled as he saw the obvious attempt to backtrack and try to trick him into heading down that trail. Mike knew the trail was a loop and even if the man he pursued went down it, Mike would get ahead of him. As it was, he continued limping down the west trail, hoping he was gaining on his quarry.

  As Captain Tamikara passed another set of stairs, he noticed the landscape was changing. The woods to his left were becoming more rocky and had more cliffs and overhangs. He could vaguely see something that looked like a small canyon through the trees. A small steam of water wound its way through the woods, spilling gently into the river. Further on he saw another canyon, this time it was marked by a sign that read “Basswood Canyon.” The same sign indicated the lodge was straight ahead. He smiled and continued, hopeful that he would link up with his other men soon.

  Approaching another fork in the trail, Tamikara was about to continue west when he heard something that made him pause. At first he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly and was about to dismiss it when he heard it again. It was a child’s voice, echoing off some hidden cliff. It puzzled the captain until his quick mind figured it out. They moved the kids to a safe spot! I’ll be dammed. And I found them. Tamikara raised the rifle and started up the south trail, grinning. Thorton will love to know I personally killed Talon’s son, he gloated.