by Dave Lund
MSOT
“Clear!”
“Clear!”
“Clear!”
Aymond keyed the radio. “Kirk, get Jones back to the radar truck, and get that damn thing over here. Then go back to where Jones saw the headlights and try to find where these PLA assholes came from.”
He saw the damaged MRAP accelerating across the lake bed toward the hangar. The truck ground to a stop against the parking brake and the engine died. The windshield was pockmarked from rifle fire, and both the front tires were flat. The MRAP had seen better days. The driver leapt out of the truck while it was still moving. Ragged and thin, the man yelled, “Jessie, stop!” while sprinting toward the woman, ignoring Aymond and the MSOT, his rifle swinging by the sling as he ran.
The woman turned and fell to her knees. The man slid to a stop, helped her up, and held her tightly. In return, she wrapped her arms around him. In the midst of the damage and ruin, the two held each other, crying.
The Hangar
“Bexar, my sweet Bexar, it’s really you. I never gave up; I knew you would come to me!”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about Keeley, I’m sorry about Big Bend, I’m sorry about Maypearl, I’m sorry about it all.”
Tears streaked down Jessie’s cheeks. Bexar placed his hand on her stomach, wiping tears off his face as he did so. Chivo walked past the Marines, who stood still both watching the scene unfold and scanning for any new threats. Amanda followed Chivo in joining Bexar and Jessie.
Chivo looked at Jessie gravely. “Ma’am, I want to apologize. I was in Big Bend as a part of the rescue force and saw you, but I thought you were dead. Our orders were to get the survivors, and Bexar was the only one we saw...but I made a promise, and I brought him back to you.”
Jessie wrapped her arms around the man. She didn’t know him and couldn’t even say thank you she was crying so hard, so she just hugged him.
Aymond walked to the group and stood silently for a moment. Once Jessie finally released Chivo to stand next to her husband and hold his hand, Chivo glanced at the uniform, read the name tape, and smiled.
“Master Gunnery Sergeant Aymond, may I present to you the President of the United States, Amanda Lampton.” Chivo gestured toward Amanda, who stood there, a large lump on the side of her head, her hair blood-matted, and bruising on her face.
“Bullshit.”
A lively discussion began in the ruined shell of the hangar, none of which concerned Bexar; nothing else could, he had his wife back.
Jessie looked over Bexar’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Bexar turned to see a teenage girl walk toward the hangar, a rifle like Chivo’s held across her shoulders, a short- barrel M4 hanging from a sling, A teenage boy with a shotgun was with her. Chivo looked at Erin and chuckled; she responded by flipping him off. Erin walked past Jessie and to the ruined blast door, peering through the entry way, observing dark scorch marks on the interior walls.
“What’s her deal, Jess?”
Erin nearly held her breath, trying to listen. Nothing. She could hear nothing at all.
“Bexar, there are over a thousand people down there; the attack might have finally done this place in. The computers were under attack for weeks.”
“Jessie, let’s just get to Level Five. We get Mom, and we get the fuck out.”
“Get out to where, back to Texas? If they know about this place, they have to know about the SSC. They’ll be there next if they aren’t there right now!”
Jessie turned, walking back toward the FJ to retrieve her chest carrier and spare magazines. Bexar followed along. “You’re not going down there.”
“Like hell I’m not!”
“I just got you back; I’m not going to lose you again. I can’t lose you again!”
“Look, chica, you should stay. You have your Bexar. You have your baby, and I’m going for Mom and coming right back, in and out.”
“There is no in and out. The last outbreak was a shitstorm all from one person. There’s no telling what’s happened now ... you have no idea if she’s still on Level Five, it’s been hours since we left her there. She could be anywhere in that damn place!”
Jones drove up in the Chinese-made radar truck, which resulted in a lot of rifles being raised and Aymond standing in between the rifles and the truck. “Whoa, easy now, this one is ours.”
Chivo spoke first. “What the fuck is that, Aymond, radar?”
“Something like that. We commandeered it from the PLA in San Diego. It kills the Zeds.”
Amanda looked surprised. “Sergeant...”
Chivo interrupted her. “Master Gunnery Sergeant. Marines get really testy when you shorten it like that, ma’am.”
Amanda gave Chivo a hard sideways look. “Thank you, Chivo. Mr. Aymond, what PLA in San Diego?”
“The short brief is that there is roughly a battalion-sized force of PLA, a container-ship flotilla, and they used airborne to secure the San Diego airport. We destroyed the container ships, blocked the harbor, demo’ed the runways at Halsey Field, and stole the radar truck. Although we had a successful guerilla campaign, we couldn’t sustain it, so we began working our way toward the interior looking for other military units.”
An explosion rumbled across the mountains. Aymond keyed his radio and spoke quickly. After the reply, Aymond excused himself to climb into the M-ATV as a small yellow aircraft taxied to a stop by the trucks.
Chivo shook his head. “Area 51, a fucking el circo. Aliens are next.”
No one else spoke. The aircraft’s engine shut off, the propeller jerked to a stop, and a man climbed out of the small plane, joined by a black-and-white dog, tail wagging, “Holy shit, did you guys hear that aircraft crash?”
Aymond looked at the new visitor, the morning being one of constant surprises for the Marine. “We did. Where was it, and what happened?”
“South. There’s another dry lake bed down near Mercury; looked big, whatever it was. It wasn’t one of yours? I was circling overhead for the last hour waiting for dawn. Dammit! You guys shot the shit out of those guys! That was one hell of a firefight.”
Aymond wasn’t listening. After the news about the other aircraft, he keyed his radio and spoke rapidly and climbed into the M-ATV with the other MSOT team members. Ordering Jones to stay put with the radar switched on, they drove off rapidly.
Muffled sounds of gunfire could be heard from beyond the ruined blast door.
“It’s been a fun morning, but it’s time to go.” Erin set down her large Barrett, grasping her short-barrel M4. Jason followed her to the door.
Jessie clicked on the headlamp she still wore from the previous night. “Honey, Bexar, are you coming with me or not?”
“Those are my only two choices?”
“That’s it.”
“If that’s it, then there is only one choice. I’m going with. Chivo?”
“Yeah, mano, why the fuck not.”
Amanda began walking toward the blast door. Chivo held up his hand. “Corporal...”
“Jones, sir.”
“Corporal Jones, welcome to the party. If you wouldn’t mind escorting President Lampton to my broke-ass MRAP for her safety until the Master Guns returns? If we don’t come back, she will direct you and your team back to another secret facility in Texas with her. I suggest you listen to her. Right, ma’am?”
“Thank you, Chivo,” Amanda replied, without masking the sarcasm and annoyance in her voice.
“Now, Mrs. Bexar, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go first.”
“Chivo, the goat, is it? First of all, I don’t know you, and, secondly, you don’t know where the hell you’re going! I do.”
“Baby, he should go first. Chivo and I...we’ve been through a lot together, trust me.”
“Mrs. Bexar, you can whisper directions in my e
ar as we go.” Chivo smiled at Bexar as the reunited and newly expanded team stacked on the door to enter.
Chivo looked over his shoulder. “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast, got it?”
Jessie, Bexar, Erin, and Jason responded in order. Chivo stepped inside, and the rest followed in a tight formation.
S4
The reconnaissance patrol watched in horror as the massacre unfolded in front of them, unable to help and not close enough to respond in time to render any aid. All they could do was radio support, directing their teammates’ weapons fire to the approaching enemy. This mission was a failure, their team in shambles. A brief report was returned to their command chain via their SATCOM. Returning to their APC, they drove down the mountainside to the awaiting commander. They could hear the jet engines of the transport aircraft already starting in the distance. They all knew what the response was going to be if the team’s mission failed; they had to leave immediately. The four men watched in disbelief as their transport lifted off without them, and then smoke began trailing from one of the engines and then another. Just fifty feet off the ground, the tail began to drop, the right wing falling lower, before the aircraft cartwheeled across the lakebed in a growing ball of fire.
Rapidly, the four men formulated a plan and drove toward the south as fast as their APC could maintain.
CHAPTER 11
Near Ulm, Montana
April 8, Year 1
Cliff sat in the MRAP at a rural crossroad, the heater running, thick snow still covering some parts of the countryside. Away from the computers of the SSC, he had a shortwave radio on the console, and a notebook and pen in his hand; he wrote down the seemingly random letters and numbers, a female voice coming across the scratchy transmission.
Transcribing the cypher, Cliff wrote down the coordinates on a smaller piece of paper, retrieved a cigarette lighter from the breast pocket of his flight suit, and lit the first piece of paper on fire, holding it out of the open door until it burnt to his fingers and he let it drop.
Driving another ten minutes south, he turned the MRAP into an unmarked but obvious driveway, drove past a helipad, and stopped at the heavy gate. The missile-alert facility plaque still hung on the fence, the Officer In Charge and the Non-Commissioned Officer In Charge placard slots missing the names that changed with each watch-duty rotation. Glancing at the poles on the corners and the video cameras, he assumed that if the Launch Control Center was still online, and since the Launch Control Support Building was still standing and the fence was still intact, that the cameras were still operational as well.
A loop of wire hung from the red-and-white radio tower, which was odd. Assured by his handlers that the hardwire launch control workaround would actually work, all he had to do was actually get in the facility. For him to accomplish that, it all started with a single button push on the intercom.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a novel is often a solitary pursuit; continuing into the fifth book of a series takes a legion of friends, family and readers who not only read, but give the author support. Winchester: Over wouldn’t have been a success without all of you and we wouldn’t be on Book Five in two years without all of you. However, most of all my wife has been and continues to be my biggest fan, though that wasn’t in the vows. Without her support, Book One would have never have been written, much less the whole Winchester Undead series and “Take Control of Your Camera” (not to mention Winchester Undead Book Six and the planned upcoming releases). Thank you, all of you, and thank you, Morgan.
Keep your go-bags packed and be ready, I ride with Bexar!
-Dave
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My name is Dave Lund. I hail from Texas and am a former Texas “motor-cop.” My family and photography round out my usual day-to-day passions, but post-apocalyptic zombie stories really fire me up. Before my previous stint as a motor-cop, I was a full-time skydiving instructor and competitor (in Canopy Piloting, aka swooping) with over 3,000 skydives. I am no longer an active skydiver so I can focus on my family, photography, and writing.
The characters in the Winchester series comprise some personality composites of people I have known or met in my life, but no character is based on a single real person or even two people combined. They are a complete work of fiction and do not represent any actual people, living or dead. Yes, that includes Bexar! Many of the themes, objects, weapons, tactics, and locations in the Winchester Undead series are pulled from my past and experiences, as many writers are apt to do, including my love of Big Bend National Park in Texas; although I have to admit there is no secret cache site in the small Texas town of Maypearl. At least none that I had any hand in creating. Although the secret base from the SSC is probably true ...
OTHER WINLOCK BOOKS YOU’LL LOVE
Winlock Press has a stunning range of post-apocalyptic adventures.
Craig Martelle’s End Times Alaska: Endure
first in the End Times Alaska series!
J. Rudolph’s The Reanimates: The Complex,
first in The Reanimates series!
Tristan Vick’s Bitten: Resurrection,
first in the Bitten apocalypse series!
Available wherever books are sold.
Table of Contents
Winchester Undead Book 5_Storm
Copyright
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Winlock Books You'll Love