Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down

by Duncan McArdle

  Chapter 33: Blocked In

  The events that occurred over the coming minutes served as a perfect example of what the armed forces had been trained for prior to the infection, and as evidence of exactly why John was so effective in this dark new world. To Andrew’s rear, a pair of feet, limp, lifeless and just barely exposed, was all that remained visible of what was once an intimidating and very much armed bandit. Nearby, brief glimpses of movement exposed John’s position to the keen eyed, as he swiftly moved along the wreckages, remaining crouched down and out of sight at all times, not exerting even the slightest of noises.

  As Andrew’s eyes followed, he suddenly caught sight of another man, again hidden behind the shell of a vehicle, and again with his rifle raised and pointed directly at the Ford, though this time without the aid of a scope. Almost as soon as he spotted him however, he was gone, pulled backwards onto the ground by a bandage wrapped and blood soaked arm, sending the man crashing to the ground with little more than the faintest of thuds to evidence what had happened. This time however, there was one very distinct difference, as the action was followed by a large spark and an even larger bang, a single shot having been fired by the original sniper. The sudden roar of impact sent John ducking down even lower for cover, still covered up well enough as far as Andrew could tell, but clearly disgruntled by someone having spotted his position.

  Looking forwards Andrew immediately spotted the shooter, himself now stood up tall, resting his rifle on the roof of the Mustang, attempting to gain a better view of the hidden attacker. Thinking quickly – and perhaps irresponsibly – Andrew gripped his M1911 tight, and began preparing himself mentally to help suppress the shooter. Before he could finish however, the deafening sound of a heavy calibre pistol erupted to Andrew’s left, the source just a few metres from the vehicle but hidden once more behind the shells and carcasses of cars that littered the area.

  This time, the bullet surged through the interior of the truck, missing Andrew’s face by what he knew to be mere inches, and instead shattering the passenger side window on its exit. Immediately Andrew ducked down, knowing that a single shot that close meant that the shooter clearly had the advantage. Andrew wished he could be more help, but as the sound of another shot roared through the air, he knew he had someone much more useful on his side.

  Again the bullet shot straight through the passenger side window, but this time, it appeared to travel from right to left, originating Andrew was sure, from John’s rifle.

  From the rear seats of the cabin, muffled screams and cries began to sound out. Hannah was clearly unable to contain her terror at what was happening around them any longer, her mother frantically trying to keep her at least remotely quiet.

  “It’s alright sweety, John’ll take care of this, you just sit tight”, Andrew said quietly, as another shot sounded out, ricocheting off of vehicles to the right, as the far shooter took another pot-shot into the mess of metal he was sure hid the intruder.

  Throwing caution to the wind, Andrew rose up, pistol held tight in his hand, body swivelling to the left to take aim at the nearest shooter, ready to take him. But there was nobody, the only evidence of a shooter instead coming from the bleeding body just barely visible on the ground behind a series of vehicles, indicating that John had presumably made contact. Relieved, Andrew instead turned to the far attacker, who still took aim over to John’s general position.

  Quickly looking around, Andrew attempted to ascertain whether or not there were more gunmen, and once sure he at least couldn’t see any, he made a decision.

  “Stay in the car, don’t come out till I tell you too”, he quietly spoke into the rear of the truck, to which his wife replied with a simple, but terrified nod.

  Attempting to fake a smile of comfort in response, but coming up very much short, Andrew quickly opened his door, before diving out and running over to a gap between the nearest set of vehicles. As he did, two more shots sounded out, each skimming across the floor behind him, as the shooter apparently attempted to switch targets.

  Immediately Andrew began to panic, he had gotten himself away from the truck, and thus in a better position to help John, but had also managed to head straight into a closed gap in the surrounding vehicles. Unsure of whether or not more men lay in wait just metres away, and nothing but a pistol to defend himself with, he began to realise that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew. Pushing said thoughts out of his mind however, Andrew was adamant that even if such things were the case, he would at least try to do his part, and with that in mind, he took a deep breath, clenched his pistol tight in the palm of his hand, and leant out from his cover.

  At the other end of the carnage, the rifleman had turned his attention away from the man by the truck, his preference now to look at a much closer disturbance, coming it seemed from just a few metres away. The intruder was, he was certain, closing in on his position, and so he began to formulate a plan of escape, only to be cut short by a sudden – and very uncoordinated – barrage of gunfire from back over by the huge pickup. One by one, five oddly placed shots collided with various pieces of scrap around his position, the closest shot more than a metre away, but still close enough to scare him back into hiding.

  Ducking back into cover after his attempt at suppressive fire, Andrew tried to calm himself, a huge amount of adrenaline surging through his body. The pistol in his hand was shaking so badly he was sure it would go off by accident if he wasn’t careful. He knew that it was unlikely he’d made contact, or even come close, but he had hopefully given John enough time to move up. More importantly, he hoped John could now take the single, significantly more accurate shot that would end this bandit ambush, an ambush he was sure had until now claimed the lives of numerous innocent people.

  Back at the Mustang, the shooter pulled off his mask, keen to increase his visibility, and knowing that at this point, escaping alive was more important than projecting an intimidating look. He clutched his rifle – a very rare military grade rifle with just three bullets left to its name – and readied himself to rise up, shoot, and flee. His legs tense, his muscles going into spasm, and his hands clutching the weapon so tightly he was afraid he’d do himself damage, he took a deep breath, and began to rise up, finger pulling back on the trigger as he did.

  The first two shots headed in the general direction of the unknown assailant’s last known position, landing he hoped at least close to their location, and doing enough to scare them out of attacking again for just long enough that he might make his escape. The third he quickly aimed to hit the series of cars currently hiding Andrew, though with little more accuracy than Andrew himself had displayed just moments earlier. Magazine empty, he dropped the rifle, knowing it would only slow him down, and turned on the spot to make his escape, only to find himself met with an unexpected figure.

  “Hi”, came the voice of John Parker, who now stood directly in front of him, and who mere milliseconds later, and with one swift swoop, brought the butt of his pistol crashing down into the shooter’s head, knocking him out cold so quickly he barely had time to blink.

  For the next few minutes, almost complete silence reigned down over the area, not a single shot being fired, and barely the scuff of a shoe audible over the immense quiet of the midday air. Back in his hiding spot, Andrew was still frantically looking around, keen to identify any other attackers, but at the same time knowing that his shots had exposed his own position, and likely put him in considerably more danger than anybody else. Before long however, the comforting voice of his companion came into earshot.

  “All clear”, John yelled out over the wrecks, himself now back at the rear of the truck, somehow having completed the second half of his loop without Andrew having even noticed.

  Standing up, Andrew looked around, spotting John walking towards him, as well as the body of the final sniper, lying behind his precious Mustang. Andrew presumed straight away that he was either dead, or wishing he was.

  “Let’s go talk to our friend�
�, John said as he walked past Andrew, who nodded in response, before briefly running over to the truck. Quickly he checked on his family, informed them of the situation, and then left once more, taking the keys and locking the pickup as he walked away.

  “John, that was amazing!”, Andrew started as he caught up with his companion.

  “Hey you had your uses too”, John smirked.

  “But, without you, we’d have been-“

  “We don’t know what they were planning on doing Andrew”, John interrupted, in a rare show of unbiased from an almost famously opinionated man, “We’ll let him tell us”, he added, gesturing towards the body behind the Mustang.

  “He’s still alive?”, Andrew asked, almost confused at the thought of John having left him breathing.

  “Out cold but alive, last time I saw him. S’pose he could have been eaten by now mind you, all that noise has brought a few of them over”, he said pointing towards one biter in particular, who had just arrived at the outskirts of the vehicles. It had begun throwing itself at the truck in front, attempting in some odd way to overcome the unknown obstacle by sheer brute force.

  “Rise and shine”, John called out as the pair arrived at the body.

  The man simply lay there, eyes closed, clearly still unconscious.

  Leaning down, John gave a series of quick slaps, eventually causing the man to jump back into life.

  “Easy now”, John said, holding his Ruger up to the chin of the man, keen to stem his sudden lurching movements, “Let’s keep nice and still, and start talking about what the hell you were doing here”.

  “I ain’t telling you shit”, the man replied, his odd brand of Southern accent seeping with the sort of stubbornness John knew would keep him quiet until the last minute.

  “I tell you what”, John said, stepping away from the man, “You tell me what you were doing, and I let you try to run, otherwise I do it right here”, he said, the gun held firmly in his hand.

  “Go ahead, get it over with”, the man said defiantly.

  Happily, John smiled back at him, before raising his weapon to point straight at the man’s head.

  There was no response, the man simply sitting there, clearly ready to accept the fate John had bestowed upon him. Before long, beads of sweat began to form on the man’s brow, rolling down his face and dripping off of his chin, the small droplets silently hitting the ground below. Seeing no further reason to delay the execution, John pulled back the loading hammer of the SR22’s small frame.

  “Wait”, the man spat out suddenly, “We were just ambushing folk, been doing it since the start, wasn’t my plan I swear, I was… I was forced into it”, he said, his lies so obvious it was almost embarrassing for the two men watching.

  “Why?”, John asked.

  “Why?”, the man said, almost confused by the question, “Why not?”, he answered, “People got plenty of stuff, and it sure looks like we’re all headed for hell anyways”.

  “Maybe you are”, John said. “How many of you are… were there”, he asked.

  “How many? Uhh… just three including me”, he said.

  “I asked you to tell me how many, not to lie about it”, John growled, clearly angered by the response. “NOT to lie about it”, he repeated, re-gripping the pistol as he did.

  “Alright alright, four, there’s four including me”, the man spluttered.

  “Good”, John said, “Now run”.

  Clearly terrified, the man clumsily jumped to his feet, his head barely able to function well enough to keep him up, but allowing him at least to begin stumbling away.

  “How’d you know he was lying?”, Andrew asked as the man left earshot.

  “Because I already killed three of them”, John replied, before raising his pistol, and firing off a single round.

  Before the bullet had even made contact, John turned to begin walking over to the obstructing Mustang, the sound of a body dropping to the floor in the distance all the confirmation he needed.

  “Four now”, he said quietly to himself.

  The car was secured in place in a crude manner. It was clearly long since dry of fuel, and instead had been pushed and pulled into place using ropes attached to each end, the men having gone to great lengths to block their victims in. The vehicle itself was riddled with holes, many more than John or Andrew had put into it, something they took as potential evidence of the sheer number of times it had been subject to retaliation by the gang’s many targets. John took hold of the rope on the front bumper, and with the help of Andrew – who quickly followed suit by grabbing it further along the line – the pair pulled the vehicle just far enough along to open up a gap for the Ford to pass through.

  “John”, Andrew said, as John began to walk back over to the truck.

  “I’m sorry Andrew, but it had to be done, you saw him, he’d go out and do this whole thing again if I didn’t put him down”, John said, defending his actions.

  “No”, Andrew said, grabbing John’s arm and pulling him to a stop, “I get that, it’s not what I wanted to say”, he said.

  “Oh?”, John asked, both pleased and surprised that Andrew was perhaps coming around to the unfortunate necessity of murder in the world they now resided in, “So what then?”, he asked.

  “We’ll take you to your family”, Andrew said, “I think it’s the least we can do after all that”.

  “What?”, John started, “Are you-“.

  “And after that, how about we head for Chicago together, all of us?”, Andrew suggested.

  John smiled and nodded his head. “I think that sounds like a good idea”, he replied.

  Chapter 34: Milwaukee

  Along the miles that followed – which fell away faster than ever – Andrew found it in himself to introduce John to his family, now that he had begun to trust him again. He started with his daughter Hannah, who unfortunately for John, was at that young age of inquisitiveness that saw her extremely keen to find out more about him. John’s hatred for discussing his personal matters was almost famous to Andrew by now, but sure enough, as the young girl wore him down, he eventually managed to divulge some none essential details.

  Having completed that introduction, John met Andrew’s wife. Sarah had never been told the full story of John’s past lies and deceits, and so was quick to befriend the man that in her eyes had done nothing wrong, and had in fact saved her husband’s life from day one. Thanks to all of the introductions and numerous stories that each of them had to swap, the remaining two hours were over in a heartbeat, and before long the road widened into a huge five lane concrete super-highway, something that marked their entrance into the central area of the city.

  “Milwaukee”, John suddenly said, interrupting whatever conversation had been floating around the truck’s cabin, with a simple word that stunned everyone into silence, and had every eye of every person in that Ford trained on the highway laced cityscape coming into view ahead. “We’re finally here”, he added, his eyelids growing heavy with a need to blink, but his mind adamant that he take every little bit of it in.

  “My God”, Andrew interjected, his own eyes open just as wide, and his mouth snapped ajar in astonishment at the sight in front of him.

  Milwaukee was in utter ruins. Every building was accompanied by a trail of smoke, every vehicle of the seemingly infinite lines of traffic on the other side of the highway was laden with debris and dirt, and the grey sky and distant sight of lightning helped to illustrate just how badly the city had fared. The entire area felt almost condemned, as if abandoned years ago and left to rot, and yet all of it had happened within just a few months. What was most troubling however, was the number of vehicles that were marked with the unmistakable scars of gunfire, many thousands of the holes spread all over what appeared to be just about every car in sight.

  “I heard about this sort of thing”, Andrew said eventually, breaking the uncomfortable silence without taking his own eyes away from the sights in front. “Places the military marched on, tried to
retake after it was overrun”, he explained, “They just all out stormed them, threw everything they had into getting it safe so they’d have somewhere to base themselves, but they could never secure anywhere”.

  “Mount’ of noise they probably made with all this shooting I’m not surprised”, John replied. “Bet there were a lot more runners back then too”, he added, referring to the significantly higher potential for a runner to catch and kill its attackers before being put down, as well as the sheer number of runners that were still bursting with fresh energy back at the start of the outbreak.

  Within seconds of their arrival, rain began cascading down from the sky above. Each droplet was the size of a fist, hitting the tough metallic exterior of the F150 with serious force, thud after thud all but silencing any form of conversation. Nobody could quite believe how the city looked, everywhere they’d been so far had of course seen better days, but none of them had bore such a heavy brunt, and none had come close to the sheer look of devastation that now sat in front of them.

  Another crack of thunder sounded out overhead, and filled each passenger with thoughts of a nuclear aftermath, this sort of carnage and chaos normally only ever caused by such destructive forces. But whether a weapon of mass destruction had been used or not, it was certainly no longer the busy, vibrant city it had once been.

  Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but quickly realised that unless both the rain and thunder subsided – which seemed incredibly unlikely – nobody would be able to hear him. Bearing that in mind he looked around briefly, before spotting, and subsequently heading for, the nearest off ramp.

  Curving round the ramp to the underside of the highway they had just left, the truck eventually came to a halt, the immense noise and reduced visibility from the storms outside all but ceasing with immediate effect, as the large concrete ceiling above them shielded the truck from the elements.