by Derek Slaton
Terrell nodded emphatically. “By all means, what is the favor?”
“There is a farm about fifteen miles outside of town that has another one of these trucks loaded up,” Xavier explained. “We made an attempt to retrieve it, but were overrun by the creatures. With our limited firepower and the threat of an imminent attack, we don’t have the ability to secure it before the food becomes inedible. I was hoping that you could bring it to town for us.”
The soldiers took a pause before Terrell cocked his head. “May we have a moment to discuss?” he asked.
Xavier nodded. “Please, take your time,” he agreed, and moved towards a group of people stacking wooden skids to inquire about the wall reinforcements.
“What do you think?” Terrell asked quietly.
Coleman took a deep breath. “I think these people could use our help.”
“And let’s be honest,” the Captain added. “Do you really think the military is going to risk a rescue for the two of us?”
“Hell, that’s assuming we can even make it out to the coast before they get out of radio range,” the Corporal replied.
Terrell nodded. “So, you want to say and help?”
“You know me, Cap.” Coleman grinned. “I’m a sucker for good fried chicken. I’ m in.”
The Captain laughed. “Nah, don’t give me that bullshit, we all know you have an eye on Ruth over there.”
“What can I say, Cap?” The Corporal joined the laughter. “I like ‘em feisty.”
They wandered over to Xavier as Terrell clapped his comrade on the shoulder. “All right Xavier,” he declared, garnering the attention of the leader, “we’re in.”
He extended a hand to shake theirs each in turn, his face lighting up into a full smile. It changed his entire face, the stoic old mask looking years younger at the curling of his cheekbones.
“Thank you so much,” he said. “I don’t have the words to properly express my appreciation.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Coleman replied. “Although I wouldn’t turn down some more of that fried chicken.”
“I will make sure Ruth does a fresh batch just for you,” Xavier promised.
Terrell nodded. “All right, we just need a truck and some directions,” he said, and the leader motioned for them to follow him.
Minutes later, the two soldiers sat in an idling truck at the gate, waiting for the distractions to pull the zombies away from the door.
“How are you doin’ on ammo?” Terrell asked.
Coleman checked his guns. “Got two full mags and a half one loaded in. One spare for my sidearm.” He glanced behind him, grinning at the rifle hanging just inside the back window. “And whatever is in that rifle there. Gotta love the rural south.”
“I don’t think I’m doing much better than that,” Terrell replied. “Looks like we just gotta hope we don’t have much resistance.” He punched the accelerator as soon as the gate opened, driving past the surprised zombies at full speed. Once he was out of range, he slowed down to maneuver the residential streets.
As he turned onto the main road out of town, he spotted a quick reflection from the tree line, and slammed on the brakes.
“What is it, Cap?” Coleman asked, lifting his rifle.
Terrell pursed his lips as the bright light vanished. “I think someone was waiting for us to leave town,” he mused.
The Corporal narrowed his eyes. “You wanna take care of ‘em?”
Terrell shook his head. “Not now. I have an idea.”
CHAPTER NINE
Frank held up his hand as they took up defensive positions outside of the fifteenth floor door, assault rifles at the ready.
“When we get into the room, find cover immediately,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with, but we have to assume everyone is a hostile. If you can avoid a killing shot, do it. But don’t take unnecessary risks. I’m going right, Freeman you go left. If you locate Bennett and Foster, secure them if you can and get them to the stairwell. Everybody ready?” He waited for the series of nods and then motioned to Gardner. “Here we go.” He fell into a half crouch, and the Corporal opened the door.
Frank went through first, into the mostly dark room. He ducked down behind a cubicle wall, noting a few little pockets of light scattered about. The bulk of the room was a giant cubicle farm, with a large glass conference room on the right. There were a few offices against the far wall with large windows, sunlight peeking in.
As Freeman entered, several shots ripped through the air, forcing him to the hit the ground and crawl to the left to take cover. Gardner jerked Marie out of the way as Webb took a knee and fired a few shots down the center aisle. He inched back and stayed low, eyes on the aisle way in case somebody popped out.
“You all right?” Gardner asked.
Marie nodded jerkily. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You hit?” Frank asked Freeman, recomposed and leaning up against a cubicle wall.
The Corporal shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way,” the Captain ordered, and Freeman nodded. He shifted his focus to the left flank, aiming down the walkway between the cubicles and the wall.
Several more shots hit the wall, almost as if the shooters were simply trying to scare them instead of actually hit anything.
“Webb, y’all ready to move up?” Frank hissed.
Webb nodded. “On your mark, Cap,” he replied.
“Go!” Frank barked, and hopped up to lay down cover fire. He shot round after round, slamming into the back row of offices, aiming high in hopes of salvaging the situation without killing any civilians.
Webb, Marie, and Gardner moved up, followed by Frank and Freeman, all ducking into cubicles on either side of the aisle.
“Contact left!” Freeman cried as a young man in a suit came around the corner with his handgun raised. Four rounds ripped through him immediately, and the Corporal shook his head in disdain. “We’re moving,” he said, motioning for Gardner and Marie to move across while he secured the aisle. “Get to the end and secure it,” he instructed, and Gardner nodded.
He led Marie up, hitting the corner of the room where the last walkway was. As they reached it, several shots tore apart the top of the fabric wall, barely missing their heads. They hit the ground and then Gardner slowly peeked up over the shredded cubicle wall. There were two figures, silhouetted by an office window with some movement inside.
They fired when they saw him and he ducked just in time.
“What we got?” Marie asked.
“Two assholes at twelve o’clock,” he replied. “Maybe more in the office.”
“How many in the office?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t know, all I saw was movement before I had to duck back down.”
“Was the office glass still intact?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I think so,” he replied. “Why?”
She shrugged. “There might be zombies in there.”
His eyes lit up. “Looks like our shot just got a little easier.” He nodded at her and then counted down from three with his fingers. They both popped up at the same time and opened fire, shattering the glass of the office before ducking back down.
Screams filled the space, both corpse shrieks and human fear.
“They’re out, they’re out!” somebody yelled, and then several panicked shots sounded, before the screaming turned to gurgled chokes. The shots aimed towards the soldiers quickly turned to the back of the floor.
Frank popped his head up to see several figures running towards the broken office window, and then noticed a silhouette in the conference room that looked like two men sitting back to back.
“I think I got ‘em,” he said quietly. “Moving to the conference room. Cover me.”
Webb nodded from beside him. “On it, Cap.”
Frank sprinted down the aisle, hugging the wall. A few shots peppered the wall above his head, but once Webb
returned fire it stopped. He turned the corner and rushed the conference room, the glass wall shattering as he dashed. He took the opportunity to leap through the broken wall, into the small conference room.
Bennett and Foster were tied to rolling chairs right next to the window, gags securely over their mouths. Frank darted towards them, but the clicks of several guns being cocked froze him in his tracks. Half a dozen armed men and women in full business attire stepped forward, brandishing an assortment of handguns, shotguns, and rifles.
He didn’t back down, aiming his own rifle at the man in the front, standing his ground between the group and his men. The apparent leader was a middle-aged balding man covered in blood spatters, evidence of his folly during the apocalypse.
“You’re outnumbered there, soldier boy.” He sneered. “Put down your weapon and we’ll let you live.”
Webb and Freeman emerged from the floor, aiming around the cubicles.
“And you’re outflanked,” Frank replied. “So I’ll give you the same offer. Put down your weapons, and we’ll let you live.”
The man raised his chin. “Nah, I think we’re gonna stay just like this,” he spat. “After what we saw at the stadium, none of us trust you people.”
“Look, I’m sorry you were turned away at the stadium,” Frank said, sincerely. “But it’s not that simple.”
“Turned away?” The man barked a humorless laugh. “Is that what you think happened? It’s much worse than that. A group of us were standing in that crowd of hundreds when a horde of those things rushed us. The soldiers on guard, your soldiers, did NOTHING. They just watched as people were slaughtered. There were twenty of us who showed up there. Six made it back to this building. Six.”
Frank sighed. “Again, I’m sorry. This is a shitty situation all around.”
There was a staccato of a few rapid-fire shots from the far side of the room, and both parties tensed, raising their guns a little higher.
“Easy, now,” Frank said, voice cool as a cucumber. “You can stop firing now!” he bellowed.
“Are we not shooting zombies anymore?” Gardner yelled back, from near the broken office.
“Well, we’re kind of in a situation over here,” the Captain hollered. “Any other surprise shots coming up?”
“Nah, we’re good!” Gardner cried.
Frank relaxed his aggressive posture and set his weapon down on the conference table. “All right, I’ll make the first concession so we can start a dialogue.”
The balding ringleader pursed his lips, and then lowered his weapon. “So, what you got to say for yourself?”
“For starters, I’m Captain Frank Kyle,” Frank said gently.
The man nodded. “You can call me Wayne.”
“All right, Wayne,” the Captain replied. “The hard truth is, that stadium is a sanctuary for people who are vital to the war effort. What’s going on here is happening all over the country, and if we’re going to survive as a nation, the needs of those people come first.” He pointed to the ceiling. “That helicopter that is on your roof? The supplies in there were meant to shore up the stadium while we start growing our own food. As a show of good faith, whatever supplies you scavenged from the wreckage, you can keep. All we want is our people.”
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough,” Wayne snapped. “I want you to take my people to the stadium.”
Frank took a deep breath. “Is it just the six of you?”
“We have eighty-five,” Wayne replied. “Most of the people are on the sixteenth floor, barricaded in for protection. Lots of defenseless people who aren’t suited for this type of world.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s just too many,” the Captain explained, shaking his head sadly. “We’re already over capacity.”
“Unless you let us in, we’re going to starve in a matter of weeks.” The balding man’s eyes darkened.
“Captain, we got a situation,” Gardner declared as he approached.
Frank cocked his head. “What is it?”
“Marie needs to see you,” he said, “both of you, it would seem.”
There was a pause, and Frank and Wayne looked at each other, then nodded. They motioned for their people to lower their weapons, and the two leaders walked side by side to the far end. Marie knelt over an injured man, another man in torn slacks covered in blood standing next to her, bouncing from foot to foot and wringing his hands.
“What is it, Marie?” Frank asked, and she leaned back, revealing a fallen man with a large shard of glass protruding from his neck.
“This man needs medical attention, and needs it now,” she demanded.
Frank furrowed his brow. “You’re a combat medic. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, that glass shard has pierced an artery,” she explained. “I’ve stopped the superficial bleeding, but if I remove it, he’s going to bleed out in a matter of minutes. I need medical supplies that are back at the stadium if he’s going to live.”
“Wayne, will you let us take this man to the stadium for treatment?” Frank asked, turning to his new foe-turned-hesitant-acquaintance. “Once he’s healed up, we’ll bring him back to you.”
“Why?” Wayne snarled. “So he can starve to death with the rest of us?”
“No, so he can keep living with y’all,” the Captain replied. “Look, I can’t take you and your people there, but I can offer our support to help fortify and supply this building. With our transports, we can avoid the zombies on the ground and get into buildings, get their supplies, and keep you going. Is that an offer you can live with?”
The frazzled man paused, glancing to his blood-soaked comrades, and received furious nods.
“I think we have a deal there, Frank,” Wayne said, and offered his hand. “Just remember though, if you don’t honor your end of the deal, I know where you live.”
Frank shook with a smile. “Good luck getting to us.” He winked. “Gardner, Freeman, see about making a stretcher so we can get the wounded down to the transport.”
Everyone sprung into action, and before long, Gardner, Freeman and Webb were lowering the injured man from the building onto the top of the transport truck. Frank stood in the hallway, overlooking the progress with Wayne. He pulled out a radio and handed it to the balding man.
“Here, this will let you get in touch with me,” he explained. “If you want to touch base with me at eight PM every night, I’ll give you an update on things.”
Wayne pursed his lips as he took the device, nodding and raising his gaze to the soldier. “I appreciate it, Frank.”
“My team desperately needs rest,” the Captain continued, “but once we are rested up, we’ll coordinate with you about getting this building supplied.”
“In the meantime, we’ll try to make contact with our neighbors who have the itchy trigger fingers,” Wayne promised. “Can’t imagine you boys liked getting shot at that much.”
Frank laughed. “Not really high up on any of our lists, frankly, so we’d all be very appreciative if you could pull that off.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” his new friend replied, and they shook hands one more time before the Captain climbed over onto the roof of the transport truck.
The sea of zombies had tripled in size while they were inside, still banging away at the side of the vehicle. Frank stepped around the patient that they’d secured to the roof, and approached Gardner by the cab hatch.
“You got him secured?” Frank asked.
The Corporal nodded. “Yeah, he ain’t going anywhere,” he replied. “I’m going to stay here and make sure of it.”
The Captain patted the injured man on the shoulder as he descended into the cab. “Don’t worry buddy, we’re gonna get you fixed up,” he said. He jumped down and Gardner’s legs followed as the Corporal took a seat to keep an eye on their charge.
Freeman wrinkled his nose at the boot on his headrest. “I’m guessing you want me to take it slow, then?”
“You do what you want, since if yo
u take a sharp turn you’re the one getting kicked in the head,” Gardner replied with a smirk.
Freeman sighed. “Valid point. Slow and steady it is.” He fired up the transport, put it into gear, and eased it back off of the sidewalk and onto the road. Zombies stumbled out of the way, some getting crushed into puddles of crimson mush, others ambling after the roaring engine as it headed for the stadium.
CHAPTER TEN
Terrell kept an eye on the rearview mirror as they rolled down the country road, the sunset casting a golden glow on the acres of farmland.
“Well, if I’m reading this correctly,” Coleman said as he studied the crudely drawn map, “there should be a dirt road coming up on the right here. Should be in between the two giant corn fields.” He paused, waiting for a reply, and then raised his eyebrow. “Cap, did you hear me?”
“Yeah, dirt road on the right,” Terrell replied absently, still with his eye on the road.
Coleman peered over his shoulder. “You seeing something?”
“Pretty sure whoever was hiding outside of town has decided to follow us,” the Captain replied.
“What’s the play?” the Corporal asked.
Terrell glanced at him. “How’s your sniping?”
“I finished in the middle of the pack during the last set of drills,” Coleman admitted.
The Captain nodded. “That’s a step above me. You take the rifle.” He motioned to the glovebox, the Corporal rummaged around, locating a box of ammunition. He opened it and clucked his tongue at the sight of six long bullets.
“Here’s hoping there ain’t too many of ‘em,” he muttered.
Terrell turned down the dirt road and floored it, kicking up a dense cloud of dust as they headed towards the farmhouse. Corn stalks whipped by the windows, bouncing off the side mirrors, jostling the duo as they bounced across the bumpy dirt.