“You, start us a car,” he said, and then turned to Jon. “Get these others to that airlift. We’ll head back and get Mark and Dawn, with the other truck, and meet you there.”
“You got it,” Jon said dryly, and took the keys from Jake.
Ash was climbing into the back seat with Dana when Mick caught up to her, and she turned to face him.
“We did it,” she said meekly. “If only…”
“Jake and I are going to head back to the place, and get Mark and Dawn,” he told her. “You guys are all going with Jon, and he’s going to get you to that airlift. We’ll join you there.”
“Wait,” she complained. “Why do you have to go? Why can’t Jon go with Jake?”
“Jake’s my brother,” Mick said. “I have to go with him.”
“But-”
“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked her.
“You know I do,” she said, touching his face.
“Then trust me now,” he said. “We’ll be there for the airlift.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, just before Jake appeared, and Ash ducked into the back of the SUV.
“All right, we’d better make this happen quick,” Jake said.
Ash, Dana, and Missy were in the back seat, while Bulldog and Jon were in the front, and Dana looked over at her sister, and smiled. It was odd to Ash that Dana would be smiling, so she gave a shrug.
“So this guy,” Dana said. “You like him?”
“I sure do,” Ash said.
Mick hurried off to start a nearby car, while Jake walked around to where Jon was waiting at the wheel of the big truck, which he started.
“I’ll hold them as long as I can,” Jon said. “But you just get there quick.”
“We will,” Jake said, and turned as a pickup nearby coughed, and sputtered, and then came to life. “He was always a little too good at that.”
Jon grinned.
“Just hurry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE- TROUBLE AT HOME
The trucks rolled along as quickly as they could, and sometimes a bit too quickly given the deteriorating conditions. But at a particular junction, the trucks split up, and Jon drove south toward the Georgia border to find the airlift, while Jake drove back toward their underground home to get the last two that would come with them.
Dawn was sitting quietly, eagerly awaiting the return of the others while Mark had been watching her. There was a growing sense of dread at first that the others would be back, and then that had faded away to a different feeling as he watched Dawn, and studied her. Near him on the table where he sat, and had been downing great amounts of vodka, was a shiny revolver, and he regarded it with a smile. He picked it up, and felt at once what he perceived to be power, then set it down as he looked over at Dawn.
She had become even more gorgeous in his state, and as she stretched, he watched her chest, accented by her motion, and he rose from his chair. He took slow steps toward her, and she barely glanced over from where she sat as his shadow crossed her. Mark looked down for only a moment more, and then lightly touched her arm.
“It’s been… hours,” he said. “I don’t think they’re coming back, Dawn.”
“They’ll be back soon,” she uttered softly.
“Come on,” he groaned. “You don’t really believe that.”
“I have to,” she said. “There has to be something to cling to.”
Mark was insulted. He felt a drop in his temperature as he regarded her, not looking at him; ignoring him as they all did. It was a world where money may not have meant a thing, but power came from elsewhere, and now, since the others weren’t coming back, he had it. He extended his arms out in disbelief.
“What about me?” he asked.
She scoffed, and got to her feet, wiping away a tear.
“You?” she asked, and then was in his face. “Ray just died, and you’re already humping my leg like a horny fucking puppy. If I was gonna shack up with anyone from this cave? It sure as hell wouldn’t be you.”
He smiled at her. It broadened. It became a scowl, and his fist lashed out, leveling her with a punch to the face that sent her to the cold floor with a cry. She tried to roll over, but made it only far enough to watch him kick at her from above, and she passed out. Mark knelt over her, and smiled coldly.
“Just consider this? Our first date,” he said to her. “Now I’m gonna go get us some cocktails, so you just stay here.”
He left her to lay, and headed back to the lab, where he pulled up short at the sight of Ray, still laying on the table, and he gave a quiet laugh.
“Oh hey, Ray,” he said. “Don’t get up. I’m just here to get a few things so I can take your little woman on a wild ride.”
He went to the table where the doc usually got his drugs from, trying to remember the names he’d been memorizing over time. He found one of the pre-loaded syringes, and took it, then took a last look down at Ray as he headed for the door.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to rough her up too much,” he said, and laughed. He then strode from the room.
There was little there, but a feral spark, and then an awareness, though muted. There was no concept of surroundings, or of self, only an awareness that it was alive. The eyes fluttered, and Ray uttered a soft groan as his head moved, and then a hand began to flex. There was no reason within it that the person that had been there was Mark, or that he’d been taunted about his wife, or even what a wife was. Only the dimmest of thoughts that something not like it had been there, and to feed.
Mark returned to the main room, finding that Dawn was attempting to crawl up the stairs. He smirked, and quickly closed on her, picking her up by the waist and dragging her back toward a couch in the dimly lit room. She struggled as he drug her, and he slapped her hard as he threw her onto the couch. She immediately tried to move from the couch, but he pressed against her and leaned in, kissing at her mouth with his. No matter how she turned her face, she could not get back far enough, and she bit, catching his tongue as he licked the side of her face.
He roared in pain and smacked her again, twice, then violently tore open the checkered shirt she was wearing, sending buttons to skitter across the floor. He then reached to the top of her tank top, and yanked down, tearing the thing away to reveal her chest to him, and he smiled as he looked down, and rubbed a hand on her thigh, and up her thigh. She groaned, but he had opened the syringe’s package, and he looked down at her.
“Now you just relax and let it happen, okay Dawn?” he said. “All that wrestling around? That’s why we have to do it this way, but don’t worry, you’ll come to love me.”
He jabbed the needle down into her leg muscle, and pushed the plunger down. She cried out, but within a minute, had only weakly groaned as he smiled. She was limp and unable to move, and he let his hands explore her chest a moment, before he got a thoughtful look, and shook his head.
“It’s a little inconvenient,” he said. “Have to get you out of those clothes, baby…”
He turned and scraped everything off the table behind him except for the revolver, and then grabbed Dawn. He let her fall onto the table’s hard top, and he looked at the jeans, and smiled to himself. Now who’s the king? He thought as he reached for the top button on the jeans. It was then that there came a scraping sound from above, and he scowled.
“Shit!” he hissed, and grabbed Dawn, throwing her back to the couch. He looked around wildly, and found a blanket to toss on her, and he tucked the revolver into the small of his back as there came the sound of footsteps. He stepped toward them as Jake and Mick appeared, and immediately knew something was wrong.
“You guys!” he said. “I’m glad you’re back! I think Dawn is sick!”
“What’s wrong with her?” Jake asked.
“Come and see,” Mark told them. “Just kind of… out of it.”
Jake was looking at Dawn, but Mark had already gone to her, and he looked back at them. Mick had leaned over, and he came back up with the empty syringe, not
ing the small number of buttons scattered on the floor.
“Is this what Dawn’s sick with?” Mick asked.
Mark looked at them, and then laughed.
“You son of a bitch,” Jake growled.
Mark was swift, and he drug Dawn up with him as he brandished the revolver at them, waving it back and forth between Jake and Mick, while Dawn could barely stand. He grinned.
“Who’s the man, now, assholes?” he asked. “Who’s the fucking man?”
“Drop that fucking gun,” Jake demanded, though neither he nor Mick had moved toward a weapon.
“No, Jake,” Mark sneered. “You think you’re such a fucking hero because of your guns and your soldiering, and all your bullshit. You guys had the guns, so you were all powerful and in charge.”
“If you think that’s how it works, then you’re dead wrong,” Jake said. “It isn’t guns that makes any of that, it’s the fact that we do what we have to do, and it’s not always easy, but you do it anyway.”
“Oh fucking spare me,” Mark groaned, drifting back toward the door to the rest of the place. If he could just get away from them, he could lock in somewhere. “The fact is, I learned that from you guys- the guy with the gun has the power. Well I have the gun, I have the girl, and I have the power!”
But a shuffle behind him came, and at once, Mark was slammed into by something from behind, sending Dawn to the floor. Ray had grabbed onto Mark, growling and snarling as they struggled, and Mick brought his rifle around while Jake gathered Dawn from the floor. Mark aimed the revolver over his shoulder, firing blindly until the gun fell from his grasp as Ray’s teeth dug into where Mark’s right shoulder met his neck, bringing forth a scream from Mark.
Shoving Ray off of him with a burst of strength, and breathing rapidly, Mark felt the rushing wound, and then turned to find the barrel of Mick’s rifle, and Jake holding the revolver. The cylinder was open, but Jake closed it, and Mark turned to shove Ray back once more.
“Come on, guys!” he whined. “Help me!”
Jake handed the revolver back to Mark, who quickly raised it to Jake’s face.
“There’s only one shot left,” Jake said. “You’d better make it count.”
Mark regarded that thought, and heard the growl of Ray behind him. He lowered the gun, and turned to look as Ray was coming back.
“We’ve got to go,” Mick said, his rifle trained on Mark. The brothers left, headed to the stairs with Dawn as Mark looked at the gun, which was now splattered with blood. He looked at Ray, and then brought a hand up to his wound. His mind was racing and squirming as he was playing out the possibilities in his head. Ray was coming at him again, and Mark turned to him, pulling back the hammer on the gun.
Upstairs, as they were approaching the door, the sound of the final shot went off, and they paused only a moment to regard it. They then headed out into the night, and the snow, with Dawn. Zombies had followed them in, as the gates were sticking in the snow, and Mick quickly downed one with a shot. Soon, they were at the black SUV, and they put Dawn in the back, then hurried to the front doors to pile in. Jake checked his watch- 11:15.
“Gotta hurry,” Mick said urgently as Jake started the truck.
It roared to life, and Jake was quick to back over a zombie, then drove with all speed out toward the road that would take them to Hollsfield. The highway, they found, was crowded with zombies, and they simply began their journey south, smashing their way through the hordes of them that were strangely active.
“Maybe they’re fleeing the cold,” Mick suggested.
“I don’t know,” Jake admitted. “Don’t much care, either. Let ‘em all freeze.”
“Let’s hope that Jon can hold that airlift,” Mick said.
They had arrived in Hollsfield, where the zombies were no less active, and quickly they had been discovered by the troops managing the airlift. As they were checked over for bites and wounds, and Bulldog was put on a medical stretcher and given an IV, Jon had sought out the highest authority, a Lieutenant named Paulson, and he gave a salute.
“No need for civilians to salute me,” Paulson said while troops were also taking the supplies from the SUV. “What can I do for you?”
“I am Lieutenant Jon Hicks of the US Navy, and I need you to hold the airlift for a bit longer,” Jon said, as Ash was entering the small shelter to get out of the rain.
“I can’t stay much past midnight,” Paulson said. “Lieutenant, is it?”
“Yes, I was flying with VFA-131 Wildcats before all this shit,” Jon said. “Can you hold it? We have four more coming, including two more pilots.”
Paulson regarded him.
“I can try,” Paulson said. “But if this weather gets much worse, I don’t know if I can get those boys to keep coming back here.”
“They’ll be here,” Ash added nervously.
The minutes felt like hours as they waited, but Paulson was growing impatient, and had sent away all but one of the choppers. It was five to midnight, and he approached Jon and Ash, while the rest of their group had already been flown off. With Paulson was a young corporal, and they looked stern as they approached.
“I’m going to have to ask you both to get on the chopper,” he said. “We’ve got to go.”
“Just ten more minutes,” Jon said. “Please.”
“The rain is freezing, and I know that if you’re really a Navy flyer, you know that’s not good for a chopper,” Paulson said.
“Ten minutes,” Jon urged.
Paulson had to think a moment, but he nodded.
“Corporal? Watch the fences for them,” he ordered, and the corporal swung his M4 around to the front, and set out for the fence. Ash looked at Jon, and then she went with the corporal.
The black SUV rumbled up over a hill, and Jake felt the engine start to sputter, and then it died. His wide eyes regarded the dash, and the lights went out.
“GOD DAMN IT!” he bellowed. “Grab Dawn!”
They were quick to scramble from the truck, immediately in the thick of a crowd of ghouls as they left the thing behind. They were close, but it was still a good run to the place they had been told to join the airlift. They had reached a place where zombies had not filled in, but soon found themselves crossing a small field to a low, plastic, orange snow fence, and the halted there. Jake was confused by it, but Mick had pulled off a piece of paper.
“They must be kidding,” Jake said. “This wouldn’t keep out anything.”
“This is just a secondary perimeter,” Mick reported, and tossed the piece of paper. “The actual fence is about two hundred yards that way.”
There came a soft jingle. It grew louder, and they looked around the darkness. The distant moans were growing closer, but this was something else. A shape, a large shape, and then even larger came from the gloom, and was colored rather brightly. It stumbled along in its red, white, and blue clown suit with huge, yellow buttons on it. There was a conical cap on top of its head, and most- but not all- of the clown makeup had been worn away. They stared at the jingling clown as it came toward them, and a loud moan escaped it. Behind it, legions of the things were coming.
“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day,” Jake uttered.
“Get Dawn over the fence,” Mick said. “I got it.”
Jake smashed down part of the orange fence, while Mick lined up the clown in his rifle sights. But upon pulling the trigger, and expecting the clown’s head to lurch to the side, all that came was the most dreadful, ominous ‘click’ any of them had ever heard. At once, Mick dove back and crashed through the plastic snow fence. Jake drew his pistol, but was slammed into by the clown. The pistol went off, but Jake was cast to the ground, as was Dawn, and the clown fixated on her.
But as the clown’s drool first dripped on her, there came the din of automatic fire, and the clown’s suit was shredded. Another round of the firing came, and a line of holes opened up across the thing’s head. It was enormous, but fell forward, landing on Dawn. Jake and Mick
were quickly to their feet, and approached the clown. Mick looked over to see the corporal, along with Ash, still holding up their smoking weapons.
“Get her!” the corporal called to them.
They were working to dislodge Dawn as the army of zombies was closing in on them. Soon enough, they had pulled her from under it, and Jake draped her over his arms as they started to run. The zombies were close, and still coming as the snow was falling hard now, along with freezing rain. They were running across the slushy field as even lightning had begun to flash, and soon, the group was at a tall, chain link fence.
The corporal, Metzke, began to work the lock with his keys as the zombies pressed in on them. They were closer, but the lock was still not open.
“This isn’t happening fast enough,” Jake warned.
“Working on it,” Metzke said.
“Work faster!” Mick urged.
The zombies were closer, the collective moaning and wailing becoming incredibly loud. Paulson and Jon had gone to the chopper, and they waited as they could hear the zombies approaching. They had heard the shots, and so they knew the others were near. Metzke shoved the key into the lock and turned it.
“Got it!” he called, and hurled open the gate. The others began to pile through it as the zombies were approaching, their hands outstretched. Metzke was the last one, and he slammed the gate shut, but there were too many of the creatures to totally halt them, and they came through anyway. The group ran for it, seeing the chopper in the distance as a section of the fence failed, and the creatures pressed on.
The chopper’s rotors sped up, and the big Seahawk began to lift slightly off the ground as the others approached. Metzke leapt into it, and reached back, pulling Dawn aboard as the zombies drew ever closer. Mick and Jake helped Ash aboard, shoving her up into the back as Jon pulled from the inside. Those inside then reached down for Mick and Jake as the zombies were approaching.
Zombies were pawing at their boots as Metzke, Ash, and Jon were hauling them on board for all they were worth. Paulson leaned out, riddling the attackers with rounds from an M-4, and calling for the chopper to ascend. It pulled away from the ground, and a crewman in the back slid the back door shut, closing off the howling wind, and the sound of the zombies.
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