Zombie Fallout | Book 14 | The Trembling Path

by Tufo, Mark

  “And if the fight comes to us?” my daughter, Nicole, asked.

  “We’re fortified here. Rose has this place surrounded with explosives, and we have plenty of water, food and munitions. This may be the best place to be on the base, should the unthinkable happen.” Henry took that time to comfort me, walking over and placing his massive head under my hand. There was a sense of wellbeing there as I scratched behind his ears. I don’t know if he understood me entirely, but he knew enough to realize I was anxious and nervous, and he was going to do his best to soothe me.

  “Okay, okay, three grams. Geesh!” Trip blurted out.

  “I’d vote for him.” Porkchop raised his hand.

  Tracy gave him a scowl; even if he was kidding, she wasn’t a fan. In honesty, I would have voted for him too. But I’d make sure to get the three grams up front. Politicians can’t be trusted to deliver on their campaign promises.

  “Okay, I’ve got to think things are going to be developing quickly, those that still have things to shore up around here,” I was looking at Rose, she gave me a thumbs up, “need to stay and finish. Or, if you’d rather stay and get some downtime—which will be in short supply soon enough—I won’t order you to come. Other than that, I only want a couple of people with me, the rest will stay and hold down the fort. Just because Gadsen failed miserably last night, doesn’t mean Deneaux doesn’t have something else cooking up her sleeve.”

  “I could take care of that problem,” Rose said as she tossed a softball-sized clay brick into the air.

  “For those of us that aren’t overly familiar with explosives, that’s terrifying and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop,” Gary said.

  “Sure thing, sarge.” She was smiling as she let it drop to the floor with a solid thud.

  “Not funny,” I told her.

  “A little funny,” Kirby said.

  “You have to say that,” Grimm replied.

  “Not sure how legal, military-wise, this is, but I’m not a big fan of change.”

  “No lie there,” Tracy piped up. “He fears it, actually.” That got a few laughs and smiles.

  “You done?”

  “I made my point.”

  “Great, okay, so, since I got promoted, I’m extending that down the entire chain, consider yourselves the next rank up. Congratulations.”

  “Does this mean I don’t have to test for biological agents?” Kirby asked.

  “Never going to let that one go, are you?” Rose asked.

  “Would you? Oh hey, that means we’re both NCOs; can’t get in trouble for dating now,” he said with a quick eyebrow dance. It was funny to watch Rose blush. Here was a woman who dealt with explosives daily and had not one issue with it but got all embarrassed when her boyfriend called her out.

  “Captain, I’d like to come to the wall, zero-in my scope,” Stenzel said.

  “Has a nice ring to it. Sounds good, one more volunteer.”

  I more than expected Trip to say he wanted to come; that he didn’t was telling in an ominous way.

  “I suppose I should go. I need to pick up some Master Sergeant stripes,” BT said.

  “Staff Sergeant Talbot, that puts you in charge of the house. I’d like someone on the roof, and let’s get that door barred.”

  “And the stairs?”

  We’d rigged them to collapse with a shaped charge. “Maybe hold off on that for now.” I thought for a moment. “But just for safety’s sake, let’s have everyone stay on either the second or third floor. And Tracy, I want whoever isn’t here rounded up before the bullets fly.”

  She nodded.

  “Ready?” I asked BT and Stenzel. BT picked Lyndsey up and kissed her, not to be outdone, I walked over to my wife.

  “Don’t you dare lift my feet up off the ground,” she told me.

  I kissed her and twirled her around anyway. Angel thought that was the funniest thing ever as Tracy smacked my shoulders until I put her down.

  “That a Leupold?” I asked Stenzel as we started walking.

  “It is. I made a trade with Sorrens when Kirby and I went back.”

  “Are you kidding me? He wanted more?” BT asked.

  “I think he has a problem,” Stenzel laughed.

  “I hope you cleaned that thing,” I said.

  “You don’t think…” BT started.

  “What? Fuck no, you sick bastard. Just all those silicone dolls…I clean everything he gives us, including this.” I lifted my shirt to reveal the shiny metal. “It’s just creepy,” I said.

  “First thing I did, sir. I think a little of you has rubbed off on all of us,” Stenzel said.

  “Told you that shit was catchy,” BT said. “Not sure how an anti-germ spreads as much as a regular one.”

  “The dolls, I, um, don’t think he actually uses them. I saw inside his place for, like, half a second. They’re arranged around the room like he is having a party. I think he’s lonely.” Stenzel was checking the windage dial as she spoke.

  “You have a thing for him?” I asked.

  “He plays with dolls.”

  “If he didn’t?” BT asked.

  “I can’t get past the part where he plays with dolls.”

  “I didn’t clean mine.” BT started scratching his chest.

  The closer we got to the front gate, the quieter it got. Most of the civilians had long ago hunkered down, and those in service to the base were where they needed to be for the approaching onslaught.

  Climbed up two flights worth of steps and found a ten-foot section of wall to call our own. I let out a low, involuntary whistle as I looked upon the horde.

  “They’ve been busy,” BT replied.

  “Wow.” Stenzel had her rifle up to her shoulder. “Check this out.” She handed it over.

  I dipped my head to look at a target, then lifted it to see what it looked like without the aid of the scope. “Damn, I could pick scabs off with this thing.”

  “That’s gross. Let me see.” I handed it over to BT.

  BT did the same movement I had. “Damn! You think Sorrens has any more of these? What’s our inventory looking like?”

  He handed it back just as the Apaches flew overhead. Stenzel handed out some orange foam earplugs. We all quickly squished them up and mashed them into our ears.

  “No rockets?” Stenzel asked, looking at the fixed wings.

  “Too close to the wall; my guess is Bennington doesn’t want to risk it,” I said. The helicopters flew out a little past the wall and got at an angle away from us. Even with hearing protection, this was going to be loud. I’d not been prepared for just how loud. I’d been around attack helicopters, only not this close. The firing of rounds from the 30-millimeter cannons was so fast it was impossible to discern one shot from the next. Instead, there was just one long and continuous brrrppp as a twenty-foot long blast of fire burst out from the front of the chopper. The gun was mounted on a swivel that the gunner could manipulate for maximum results.

  The helicopter directly in front of us went lower so that the thousands of deadly projectiles would be on a flatter trajectory and would destroy more zombies. That hardly seemed possible with the way they were being hewn down. Still, they didn’t move as dozens, hundreds, were quite literally chopped apart or diced into meaty parts. Entire swaths of them were being mowed down. In all my battles with this particular enemy, I’d never seen anything quite so lopsided. I stood in awe of the devastation the Apache was bringing. If I hadn’t hated them so much, I might have felt pity as they were mutilated into oblivion. Carrion birds circled high overhead, waiting for their chance to grab a mid-morning meal. They normally stayed away from zombie flesh, I wondered if pickings were getting slim or they had an idea this was going to turn bad for us.

  All three of the helicopters had dipped down to a more effective angle; from our place on the wall we were nearly even with the pilots of the impressive flying machines. Four birds, looked like turkey vultures, must have been hungry as they dove down. It’s possible they had a suic
ide pact, otherwise, how could they not see the blender blades they were heading straight for? I didn’t think it would be too much of a problem for the chopper, but I was a ground-pounder; what did I know? The first vulture was shredded into a ball of bloody mist and feathers that blew out in a wide arc from the helo. The second was nearly identical, although I swore I saw the machine shudder from the shock of it. The third, yeah, he knew what he was doing, dove right into the intake. A plume of fire shot out from the engine, and the shudder I’d seen earlier came back with a vengeance—the machine shook violently. The sputtering we heard was a death throe. From my vantage point I could see the pilot’s instrument panel light up red; couldn’t hear the alarms, but I’m sure there was a cacophony of them.

  The pilot turned toward us, but whatever was going wrong, he couldn’t get any height. All he was going to do was ram the wall with catastrophic results. He knew this and turned back the other way to make as much room between where he landed and the zombies. The fourth bird had different designs; it had come in low enough to avoid the blades and smashed headlong into the windscreen.

  “That was on purpose, Mike,” BT said. There was no need to call him on the obviousness of that—the situation was far too serious. Dewey could talk to other zombies, people, and now, seemingly, animals.

  I could only hope the pilot could get his now erratic machine under control and far enough away to make an escape. My priority became the other two. More birds were circling; it wouldn’t be too long before they were used as weapons as well. I looked around until I found what I was looking for: a private with a radio.

  “Get the colonel on the horn!” I was out of breath, some from exertion in getting to him, most from the fear of what I’d just witnessed.

  “I’ve got very strict instructions on the use of this, sir.”

  “If you want, I’ll use it once I’ve knocked you out. Your choice.”

  “This is station thirteen, calling for Colonel Bennington.”

  “Roger, station thirteen. What is your priority code?”

  “Whatever the fucking highest one is!” I’d grabbed the handset from the private.

  “Say again?”

  “This is Lieu…Captain Talbot. Get the colonel on the line, now. This is of the utmost importance. He needs to call off the attack!”

  It wasn’t five seconds later Bennington was on the other end. I had to appreciate the efficiency.

  “Talbot? So soon?”

  I didn’t give him a chance to continue. “You’ve got a bird going down and two more to follow. Call them off!” He could have asked for an explanation, but when something so valuable is threatened, you tend to err on the side of caution. The two remaining helicopters stopped shooting and both turned just as the wounded one went down, not nearly far enough away. The blades were tearing through zombies as they clamored to get at the juicy, fun-filled center.

  “This is Captain Delano requesting immediate extraction!” the pilot called out. The alarms had stopped; either he’d done it or he’d lost power. Could still hear the heavy percussion of the beating blades as they sliced through the enemy, but could also hear pounding on his fuselage as some had got through. “Shit, Don! Get your gun!” He must have been talking to his co-pilot.

  “Too many! Too many!”

  “Stenzel!” I shouted. Somehow over the noise of the helos she heard me, or maybe she’d been watching. I pointed to the downed helicopter then held my rifle up to my shoulder. She knew what I meant. With her scope and her skill, she could offer a chance, albeit a small one. She leaned over, placing the barrel atop the wall. I didn’t hear her shot, just saw the recoil in her body and the puff of smoke from the front of her barrel. She’d gone through an entire magazine before I could get back to her. By now, she’d been joined by over a hundred rifles trying their best to hold back the tide of the enemy from overtaking our own. Zombies kept filling in the holes, like a vengeful tide. I turned as I heard the squeals and rumblings of a heavy machine.

  Bennington had sent a tank. It was hauling ass down the now deserted street and still, I didn’t think it was going to be on time. Personnel were gathering near the gate because once it opened to let the behemoth out, zombies were going to come flooding in. The helicopters were impressive, no doubt about it, and maybe the colonel had used them to boost our morale, but I think it would have been better if instead he had used the five tanks we had. The gates had no sooner opened when I felt and heard the percussion of the tank round being fired. In all my years of warfare and battles, I’d never witnessed this level of annihilation in one shot. Sure, the nuke had killed many times more, but it had left nothing behind except a radioactive residue that would be present long after this war was decided. The tank had used an M1028 round, which was a canister packed with over a thousand tungsten balls. Hundreds of zombies were torn entirely to shreds, body parts smacking wetly against the ground and their brethren.

  Muscle, ligament, tendons, intestines, slithered on the ground, not yet aware that they were no longer tethered to a body. Heads disappeared, chests caved, legs and arms detached and flew off as if they were nothing but Lego Minifigure knock-offs. In a human war, I would have argued that something like this should be banned; right now, I wanted them to unload their entire arsenal. Let Dewey know just what he was dealing with. Fuck him. The only way my mind could comprehend what was happening was to equate it to the world’s most massive array of bowling pins being knocked down. I mean, except for the blood and guts, it was just like that. Another shot…this of the more traditional variety. The deaths dealt, while not quite as impressive, still cut a swath over fifty feet long and eight feet wide. The tank was picking up steam, getting close to its maximum speed of around 40 miles per hour, which is pretty impressive for something that weighs in excess of sixty tons. Stenzel had never stopped shooting around the helicopter, like the majority of us had, watching the impressive display of power from the M1.

  I started running up and down the lines, getting everyone back on track. “Keep firing, keep firing!” By now, the blades of the helicopter had been destroyed by the sheer number of zombies they had decimated. Two had been completely torn from the frame, and the third hung down low enough to scrape the ground. It was when I saw Stenzel pull her rifle up I knew the rescue was for naught. She turned without saying a word and headed down the stairs. She’d just witnessed, in high definition, the two pilots being ripped and rendered by zombies; I was going to give her all the moments she needed to deal with it. The tank, oblivious to the outcome, still thundered on, but now we had something new to deal with. Stenzel wasn’t out of the fight; she was shifting her attention to the zombies that had come in.

  Dozens of them were met by a half-circle of men and women. Even with all those rifles firing, we were still taking losses. It was easy enough to see which of us were not familiar with combat. You can practice at the range until you can group ten shots into the size of a quarter, but when someone or something is trying to kill you and everyone is screaming and firing at once and your adrenaline is pumping wildly and your brain is deciding crazily whether to fight or run…it’s amazing how small the side of a barn can become. Stenzel was plugging holes with unmatched precision. I realized I’d just promoted her less than a half-hour ago, but I thought I might do it again. While part of the line had appeared to be on the edge of making a break for it, she’d single-handedly got them back into the fight.

  I was taking the stairs two at a time, and more zombies were coming in. I didn’t know why the gate wasn’t shut, only that it wasn’t. BT saw me and came running after. By now, those on the wall knew what was happening and began to fire straight down before the zombies could come streaming in.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” BT almost destroyed me as I was heading back up.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked as we twisted our bodies to avoid the collision.

  “Right back!” I found the private with the radio; he didn’t even hesitate as he handed it over. “Get the tank
back! Get the tank back now!” I tossed the handset back and went to join my squad mates.

  BT stayed about a quarter of the way up, so he had a better firing trajectory. The dozens of zombies were quickly building up to hundreds and still, the gates weren’t closing. I thought maybe they were jammed with bodies; it was worse. Zombies were actively holding them open. I don’t know if such a thing as a “push of war” exists, but it was happening right now. The guards were trying to shut the gates, and the zombies were pushing against them. I could not get a clear field of fire on them because of the railing and the wall overhang. The only effective way would have been to get in there and stand right where the zombies were entering. It looked like the culmination of the doomed helicopter attack and the doomed rescue attempt were going to be our undoing. Every facet of this looked planned. How could Dewey have known we were going to use helicopters? Could he have been preparing for every contingency like a chess virtuoso? Was he that many steps ahead of us? I wanted to call off Stenzel and get back to our home, but it seemed so early in the game to pull back. The far side, away from Stenzel, collapsed under the assault. Screams of pain and mercy rang out even as we redoubled our efforts. The zombies didn’t stop to plunder their hard-fought victory, but began to stream inside Etna.

  “Hold this fucking line!” I screamed as I saw even more soldiers peel away. I went down the remaining stairs. Leadership by example; I’d always tried to do it, even if it meant certain death. My sacrifice would be a drop in the bucket to those that could be saved if we held on for just a few more minutes until either the one tank came back or another came to shore up our defenses. Although this probably wasn’t the best place to be, once it started shooting. A few squads were running up the roadway to help out. It was a wadded-up ball of chewed gum trying to be shoved into a leaky, crumbling levee.

  One of the helo pilots with a death-wish must have seen the fall of the gate; he’d swung around. The entire scene was something surreal, straight out of a Kubrick film. I could see each chunk of brass falling from the helicopter as the machine gun emptied its contents. Zombie arms pinwheeled back as they absorbed dozens of rounds, anger was etched in their faces as they fell away. It was a slow-motion theater of death. We were all reluctantly playing a part, and I’d not even signed the Actors Guild paperwork.