“The pain must be intense.” Norris pulled out a long plastic zip tie from his bag and used it as a tourniquet four inches above the wound. Mac screamed in pain as the medic cinched it tight, but it stopped the blood flow almost immediately.
“Norris?” Mac said between large gasping breaths.
“Yeah?”
“Forget what I said. Give me a shot of morphine…”
No more white robed assailants had revealed themselves, and no more gunfire had come out of the forest across from the parking circle, but Susan could still hear plenty of gunfire coming from the rear balconies and the heavy rattling of the tanks machinegun. Mac’s screams of pain attract her attention and Susan looked back through the room to the other side of the house. From what she could see it appeared he had been wounded in the leg. The medic was preparing to give him a shot in the leg. He locked eyes with her, his face a mask of pain, but he still smiled and gave her a thumbs-up! The two men blocked her view of the rear balcony, but she could still hear gunfire from multiple sources.
“We got deadfucks.” Rick alerted her. She looked and spotted them stumbling out of the forest at the south end of the house, near the garage. Five…Ten… Twenty… They kept coming through the trees onto the cobblestone parking circle like rotting pebbles slipping through fingers, slowly stumbling for the front porch.
“Matt do you have a copy?” her radio crackled. “Matt, this is Jenkins do you have a copy?” She knew Matt was too busy to answer so she grabbed her radio.
“JENKINS? JENKINS IS THAT YOU?” The bastard doesn’t answer his radio for hours then he calls right in the middle of an attack.
“It’s Jenkins.” He answered back.
“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN WE’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR HOURS? WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! DO YOU COPY? WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!”
“By who?” The radio was hard to hear over the gunfire.
“DEADFUCKS!” she screamed into the radio. “AN ARMY OF DEADFUCKS!”
“Park City is under attack too, at least ten thousand deadfucks and a mess of superzombies.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Things couldn’t be much worse down here. General Parker is dead and I’m the asshole left in command of defending the city.”
“We’re in trouble.” Susan muttered into the radio.
“Don’t give up, kid! You’re a tough little bitch and there are too many people counting on you!” Jenkins barked back over the radio.
“Nice way to inspire, you fucking asshole!” She tossed the radio aside in anger, sighted a zombie’s head with her weapon, and fired.
Below her, the front door suddenly exploded outward in a barrage of wood splinters and fire. A few moments later her head stopped ringing from the blast and she peered over the edge of the balcony, and to her horror could see dozens of deadfucks clustered around and beginning to stumble their way up the wide stone steps that accessed the front porch…
With a scream equal parts pain, fright and determination, Pvt. Cordoba barely managed to dive deeper into the living room and avoid the blast radius as the superzombie, standing in the kitchen, took aim into the living room and fired its grenade launcher, destroying the front door with a concussive blast that shattered the pane glass picture window and sent shockwaves through the entire house. Cordoba landed badly, coming down on his injured shoulder, the pain a blanket of mind scrambling agony. When the fog and the ringing in his ears finally receded enough for him to come to his senses, he wished he could have remained unconscious. Zombies were just beginning to stumble in through the gaping front doorway, with more entering the foyer from the kitchen.
Pvt. Cordoba scrambled to his feet, his right arm hanging like a bloody side of beef, and backed against the hearth at the south end of the living room, which had a roaring fire burning in its maw. He could hear gunfire coming from the foyer: either the superzombie or Pvt. Irving at the stairs. He had dropped his own M-16 when the superzombie had shot him, leaving him with the 9mm sidearm strapped to his right hip as his only weapon.
There were now zombies pouring into the room, rotted and stinking, wearing tattered and bloodstained clothing. Many of them bore violent wounds on their bodies, obvious signs of the death.
Reaching awkwardly across his body he un-holstered the 9mm with his left hand and used his forefinger to flip off the safety. It was doubly hard due to his hand shaking from fear, blood loss and shock. He fired at the first zombie from a distance of ten feet, the bullet drilling through its forehead. Despite his fear, Pvt. Cordoba did not scream out until he heard the pistol in his hands click dry and the three nearest zombies lock their cold, clammy hands on him. His screams were the hysterical, profane calls of one about to die a painful death, and indeed they turned to shrieks of agony as the pack of zombies, now over twenty, began bite chunks from his arms, legs, neck and face, and used their clawed fingers to pull his soft belly apart, fighting over his bloody entrails like wild dogs…
As Zack paused to reload with a fresh clip from the ammo bag, he watched the tank begin to plow through the sea of drones, grinding them beneath the steel treads like so many overripe tomatoes. As it turned back toward the house to make another pass through the ranks of zombies, Zack spotted a Sentinel break from the northern tree line, sprinting across the yard at top speed to come up behind the tank. It had slung its assault rifle across its shoulder as it ran across the yard and it leapt up onto the back of the tank, using both hands to hold itself. With barely a second thought Zack bolted from his position behind the boathouse, running full bore toward the tank, hoping to reach the Sentinel before it killed the occupants and commandeered the heavy vehicle for itself.
The Sentinel climbed atop the turret, un-slung its M-16 and shoved the barrel into the small 8” x 11” view port and fired half a dozen rounds. The tank came to an abrupt halt. Its engine remained running and the painful screams of a wounded man could be heard from inside the cockpit. The Sentinel pulled its rifle back and yanked a grenade from its web gear, pulling the pin with its black, rotten teeth. It was just about to drop the grenade into the view port when Zack reached the tank, leaping off the ground, straight for the Sentinel. He used the AK-47 in his hands as a battering weapon, crosschecking the evil monster in the center of the back, sending it sprawling off the front of the turret onto the nose of the tank while the grenade tumbled to the ground where it exploded near the treads, doing minimal damage to the heavy armor.
“GET SOME MOTHERFUCKER!” A man screamed from inside the iron beast, his voice full of animal rage, and the barrel of the .50-caliber targeted the Sentinel, unleashing a stream of hot lead death so thick it was visible with the naked eye. The heavy slugs sent the superzombie flying from the nose of the tank, twenty feet back, blowing off its left arm and head before ripping it in half in an explosive shower of twisted, leathery flesh and black blood.
Zack stayed kneeling atop the turret, his rifle raised and his keen eyes scanning for white robed assassins while the tank continued plowing through the horde of zombies. He spotted a trio of them in the southern tree line, crouching behind cover and firing their assault rifles at the house defenders, most likely the ones who had taken McReedy down. He took careful aim, blowing off one of the assassin’s heads. Zack was already tracking to the next one, who was not even aware his partner had gone down. One tap of the trigger and he joined his fallen comrade. The third gunman finally took notice and was swinging his gun around to shoot at Zack, but he was already too late. Zack’s next shot punched right through his Adams apple and out the back of his throat. One more quick shot parted his skull right between the eyes.
Zack surveyed the house. The Sentinel had made it in through the shattered patio door, and now the horde of drones were entering the house behind it, converging together as hundreds pressed to gain entrance through an opening wide enough for four. He spotted Matt on the second floor balcony and David on the third, firing their M-16’s into the hungry horde below, scoring a kill with nearly every s
hot. There were other defenders, but he didn’t recognize them.
The tank spun back toward the lake and made another pass through the ranks of drones. It was in mid-turn that Zack spotted the Sentinel as it came out of the northern tree line in a full run, its rifle slung across its shoulder. It leaped onto the solar panel array, using it as a launch pad for a huge jump at the house. It spread its arms and legs wide, using its black-clawed talons to cling to the siding midway up the house between the second and third floor. Pulling its legs up beneath its torso, the Sentinel began to climb up the side of the house toward a third floor window, its monstrous hands clawing new handholds into the face of the siding with each upward lunge…
Chapter 54
Tuesday, June 26, 2001
Park City, UT
6:25 PM
The battle went well for the human defenders of Kimball Junction, until the arrival of the Krylok attack craft.
The two Apache helicopters on scene used their missiles to quickly takeout two of the four superzombie controlled tanks, and the human tanks were unloading their main guns into the advancing horde with devastating effect as it moved east on I-80. An additional two hundred men from the city militia had been dispatched to bolster the two-dozen foot soldiers stationed there, and for a short period, it appeared as if the assault would be turned back before it even reached Kimball Junction.
Then suddenly, without appearing on any radar, the sleek, black, multi-faceted alien craft had streaked into the battle from the east, discharging large, green balls of crackling energy from its pointed nose and destroying both Apache’s in a single pass. It made a fast, banking turn before it bore down on Kimball Junction, almost too fast for the eye to see, unloading its energy weapon in a long, low strafe, taking out two of the four tanks, a Humvee and nearly a dozen troops. The next pass wiped out one more tank, the remaining Humvees, and another twenty soldiers.
That was all it took for the defense to crumble. The remaining Abrams tank fled for the city, only to be taken out by the Krylok attack craft before they covered half a mile. The ground troops abandoned their sandbagged trenches, and fled for their lives, desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the advancing horde of zombies. Less than five minutes after the attack had begun, Kimball Junction had fallen. The army of zombies, over ten thousand strong and lead by fifty superzombies and commanding two M1A1 Abrams tanks, turned north to Park City, two miles away…
“We still have a city to defend!” Jenkins growled to Lt. Gates as the duty officer stared at him in mute shock at the final reports coming in from Kimball Junction.
“The last two Apache gun ships are standing by on the helipad sir. Should I order them aloft?” Farrell asked from his side.
“Negative. That UFO would just blow them out of the sky.” When they had fled the U, they had heard radio reports of a UFO attacking the perimeter defenders, and General Parker had confirmed those with corroborating reports. Now that UFO had attacked here, single handedly breaking the Kimball Junction defenses.
“Sir!” It was the Comtech. “Eastern Perimeter reports visual sighting of unidentified Aircraft approaching the city at mach speed.”
“I have nothing on radar sir.” Another tech responded from his station.
“Northern Perimeter reports that the unidentified Aircraft has opened fire on tank positions with some sort of energy weapon.” The Comtech said.
“Still nothing on radar sir!”
“What’s going on at the hospital?” Jenkins barked with frustration.
“Units have been dispatched sir, but the recent intelligence says the Alphas have left the morgue and spread into the hospital.”
“I bet they are executing patients too.” Jenkins replied. David had told him of the superzombie he had encountered while rescuing Zack from the hospital at Ft. Douglas. It had been walking from room to room, methodically executing patients with a bullet through the chest, not the head, and thereby creating more deadfucks.
“Good guess sir. How did you know?” Jenkins only shook his head for an answer.
“Twenty additional men have been sent as back-up.” Said the Comtech.
“Twenty? Send one hundred.”
“Yes sir.”
Jenkins turned to Lt. Gates, who still stood there like a frightened dog, waiting for its master to instruct it. “How did they get out of the morgue? I ordered that elevator shut down.”
“They pried open the elevator doors and climbed the cables. Others slipped into the air ducts and followed them out.”
“Has Dr. Cooper been located?” Jenkins had ordered Dr. Cooper arrested and brought to the Command Center.
“No sir.”
“FIND HIM!” Jenkins screamed, his anger boiling over. If that son of a bitch had followed orders and incinerated those bodies, there would not be over a dozen Alpha’s running loose through the hospital, creating havoc. When that little fuck was found and brought in, he personally was going put a bullet into his head.
“Y-Y-Yes sir.” Lt. Gates had cringed in fear at Jenkins outburst, and now slunk away to avoid any more of Jenkins wrath.
“Sir?” the Comtech chimed for Jenkins attention.
“Go ahead.” Jenkins ordered.
“The latest update has just came through…” The Comtech paused, his face pale and covered with sweat, his eyes dark and full of dread.
“Continue.” Jenkins snapped.
“The unidentified attacking aircraft has completely destroyed the eastern perimeter tank squad.”
“There were half a dozen M1A1 Abrams defending the eastern perimeter.” Major Farrell said in disbelief.
“Yes sir.” Said the Comtech.
“Over half the cities armor, gone.” Farrell spoke to nobody in particular.
“How far out are the deadfucks?” Jenkins asked.
“The main horde is still over a mile away. We are only getting sporadic reports from the Kimball Junction defenders as they fallback to the city, and some of the reports are conflicting…”
That meant the front door to Park City was wide open for the deadfucks to come marching through.
“Sir!” another Comtech exclaimed. “The attacking aircraft has begun strafing runs on the central city!”
It’s all coming apart.
But he was unwilling to give up. Just as he had told Susan earlier over the radio, he was strong, and there were a lot of people counting on him to survive.
“Get those other two Apache’s in the air.” He ordered, knowing that he most likely had ordered both crews to their deaths. “Tell them their only concern is that alien craft…”
Out on the heliport Striker-3 and Striker-4 had been standing by, engine running rotors turning, awaiting the order to attack. When it came it took less than thirty seconds before they were lifting into the night sky, side by side.
Army Captain George Hendricks, pilot of the Striker-4 AH-64D Apache gun ship always got a rush of adrenaline every time he lifted his bird from the ground, the feeling of so much pure, destructive power right in his fingers was as powerful a natural high as he had thought possible. But now, the feeling of cold, aching fear as he embarked on what he was certain would be his final mission proved to be an even more powerful natural high. His ears were ringing, his skin tingled with an almost electric current and his vision was focused to an almost crystal clarity. He had felt all of these sensations before, on every mission, but never had the fright been such a pure, clean, terror.
He leaned back into his seat and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the blanket of fear. He ran a quick scan of his flight instruments, letting his training take over. But despite his training, he still wasn’t prepared when Striker-3 exploded into a ball of flame one hundred yards to his starboard side, the flames lighting up the night. He put even more power into his climb and peeled away to port in an evasive maneuver, but the blast wave still caught Striker-4 and it took all of Capt. Hendricks skill to keep control of the bird.
“Goo
d flying Ge-” began his co-pilot and gunner Captain Shane Travis, but was cut off when a pair of green balls of energy, several feet in diameter passed beneath the landing skids of Striker-4 and impacted into the side of a large high rise building half a mile away with a huge explosion that would bring half the building tumbling down. A fraction of a second later something black and incredibly fast streaked by fifty yards to starboard.
“TARGET THAT BOGIE!” Hendricks screamed to his gunner.
“He’s not registering on radar.” Replied Captain Travis. “Switching to manual laser targeting… Missiles away!”
A pair of hellfire missiles streaked away from the Apache with a trail of fire and smoke. The stealth bogie was fast and agile, already over two miles away and circling around over the city for another pass, making it difficult for Capt. Travis to keep the targeting laser manually locked on. Only his night optics kept the black hull of the alien craft from blending completely with the darkness. The gem shaped craft completed its turn and let loose with a pair of green energy blasts into the downtown city with another huge explosion. Just then the pair of Hellfire missiles slammed into the front starboard side, engulfing the craft in fire.
“IT’S A HIT!” Travis whooped with joy at the results of his handiwork. The alien craft was not destroyed, but a large, jagged chunk had been blown out of the front end, and it was trailing black smoke. Captain Travis’ joy quickly evaporated as he watched the alien craft lose altitude and nose dive into the center of down town Park City at just under 600 MPH. It drilled through a pair of ten story hotel towers at a 45-degree angle before smashing into the ground just outside the Park City Resort. It exploded into a giant, expanding fireball, laced with crackling green energy that rippled out hungrily, leveling buildings, pulverizing vehicles and houses and living creature in a two-block radius and bathing the entire city in its light…
Pvt. Samson watched downtown erupt in fire and green electricity, laughing with glee. It was just as Master Necrotura had said it would be: chaos, fire and death. Again, the prophetic words of the Master were borne true, reaffirming the blind, fanatical faith of PVT. Samson.
Deadrise Page 40