by Lund, Dave
Bexar stood and appeared to be screaming while rapidly firing his rifle at their attackers. He switched magazines and fired as fast as he could, moving from target to target. Advancing PLA and advancing Zeds were hit by his rifle fire. The PLA fell, but the Zeds kept marching toward the house, toward Bexar, Jessie, and their newborn.
The incoming round hit near the house and knocked debris into the air, knocking Bexar and Jessie off their feet. They didn’t get back up.
CHAPTER 21
October 2, Year 1
The Farm House
Bexar.
Jessie fell back to consciousness like waking up to a terrible nightmare. Pain radiated through her body.
Jessie turned her head, smeared in dirt and blood. Bexar lay motionless on the ground, blood trickling out of his ears and nose, rifle clutched against his chest, dim, lifeless eyes staring back at her. Jessie moved to touch him and couldn’t. She yelled as loudly as she could and no sound came out of her mouth. Silence engulfed her all but the ringing in her ears. Disoriented, she blinked hard, dirt seeming to hang weightlessly in the space around her. Time grinded ahead slowly as she lay on the ground.
Distantly, an infant screamed, the only sound she could now hear. The baby’s cries penetrated her chest, and Jessie’s heart burned in grief and anger. Anger at the world, anger at the invasion, the battle, and angry that for all they had overcome. For all that they were, it wasn’t enough for the new reality. It wouldn’t be enough for her Scout, her baby.
Louder, the infant cried. Tears streamed across Jessie’s cheeks. A piece of metal lodged in the side of her rifle; it would never work again. She reached for Bexar and peeled his stiffening dead hands off his rifle, smoke wafting from the end of the barrel. Jessie ripped a fresh magazine from his chest carrier and loaded rifle. She pulled up to her knees. On the ground was an infant, her infant, covered in dust and dirt.
Her baby girl screamed in terror and pain.
Jessie glanced over the rubble and sandbags to see dozens of PLA soldiers advancing. Zeds rattled and pushed around the APCs as they approached. The sound of the rumbling diesel motors of the approaching soldiers felt distance even though they were only a few dozen yards away now. Jessie glanced back over her shoulder and saw Zeds tripping and falling through the debris of their ruined home. More came from each side.
She was trapped.
They were trapped.
“Oh God—forgive me, Scout, my child. I love you.”
Blood obscured the red triangle in the optic; Bexar’s blood. Jessie stood and fired as quickly as she could pull the trigger. Zeds, Chinese, and Koreans, the battle closed in around her until the lonesome howl of incoming ordnance grew louder with each millisecond that clawed past. She dropped the rifle, fell to the ground, cradled her baby girl tightly in a ball, and waited for the end.
Dirt, clumps of soil, rocks, and what was sure to be some Zed body parts fell from the sky above, the mortar overshooting her position and exploding behind her. The house was destroyed, the barn was on fire, and there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no way out.
Jessie stood, shouldering the rifle, and fired rapidly until the bolt locked back on an empty chamber. Bexar’s empty rifle fell from her hands to the ground as she scooped her baby girl in her arms, clutched her tight, and began to run.
Jessie screamed in rage.
It was the guttural savage war cry of an ancient warrior princess as she sprinted toward the approaching PLA. She had a chance running forward. Behind her was certain death as the decrepit blackened teeth of the dead tore the flesh from her bones, from her daughter’s bones.
She looked up, trying to pick the best route through the enemy soldiers ahead. The men were startled by the unexpected, but they were beginning to react, rifles shifting their aim.
Please no, I have to make it. She needs me…I can’t lose another of my babies!
Her voice echoed through her mind. Jessie’s feet felt like they were tied to the ground, and the harder she ran, the slower it seemed to be. Slowly, the invader’s muzzles tracked her movement. She didn’t know she was still screaming at the top of her lungs. Another glance up at the soldier ahead on her right saw his head vaporize in a pink mist. The next man was knocked off his feet, blood arcing through the air from the fist-sized hole in his chest as he fell.
I’m going to make it! Oh my God, I’m almost there.
“GO!”
Jason sprinted down the hill. His wife only said “go” and so he did. He could feel the pressure wave of the large-caliber rifle rounds passing his overhead as Erin tried worked to save Jessie, or just save the baby. They didn’t have long. His shotgun sat next to Erin. He didn’t have to shoot; Erin would protect him. Jason knew that he would be fine and they would win because his love would make sure they would.
Erin shifted aim quickly. One by one, she killed the enemy. They were confused as Jessie ran through the middle of the ranks, between the APCs and out the back of the patrol. The soldiers weren’t firing their rifles for fear of shooting a comrade in the crossfire. In Jessie’s path were some Zeds of the talented few who were trying to get a hand on her and drag her to the ground. One by one, each of them fell. The deep crack of the .50-caliber rifle punctuated each new death as it snapped across the field in rapid fire.
Closer and closer Jason came to Jessie. She had seen him; he saw the recognition of hope glint across her eyes, her desperation. Her baby cried and screamed, frightened at it all.
A heavy invisible fist reached out and struck Jessie.
She stumbled but managed to keep on her feet. Then another and another still. Through the rifle’s optic, Erin saw dark stains appearing through the dirty tank top Jessie was wearing. She saw that an officer stood with a pistol drawn and was shooting Jessie in the back as she ran.
Erin pulled the trigger and exploded.
The rifle failed. Erin screamed in frustration and anger as she stood to run. Pain flashed and seared through her face and body. She felt blood running down her face and she couldn’t see very well, but Erin saw well enough to see her ruined rifle on the ground.
The rifle magazine was blown out of the receiver; the bolt was peeled back like a cartoon banana. Erin realized she was lucky to be conscious after a catastrophic failure like that. Rage burned deep in her chest. Jessie, Jason, the baby she didn’t even know yet…it wasn’t fair. None of it was fair and she hated it all and she hated the PLA with every fiber of her being. She had never felt anger and hatred this deep and primal before.
Chivo ran like an Olympian, his head up, chest up, feet and arms pumping. He was indifferent to the full tactical kit weighing his body down, indifferent to his M4, which bounced and jostled against the tight sling. He couldn’t breathe, his rapid pulse pounding in his ears. Breathing didn’t matter to Chivo. Living didn’t matter to him. Chivo wouldn’t quit, he couldn’t quit.
Chivo would never quit for his friends.
Jason caught Jessie as she fell. Blood traced out of the corner of her mouth. Panting, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk. She didn’t need to.Jason and Jessie locked eyes.
Jason knew what needed to be said just by the look in her eyes. He took the screaming infant from her arms, turned, and ran back the way he had come.
He didn’t look up, didn’t have to; he knew Erin was going to keep him safe. Jason glanced down at the baby. He didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, he didn’t know the baby’s name, and he never would. One look into its bright blue eyes and Jason knew that he would love this child for all time as if it was his own and would never let himself fail her.
The sharp crack of rifle fire snapping past him was the first time Jason realized that the PLA were shooting at him. He looked up and a few hundred yards away was Erin running toward him. Jason didn’t know why she was running and wasn’t using the sniper rifle. Pain like he had never felt before cut and b
urned in his back as Jason tumbled to the ground with his arms wrapped tightly around Jessie’s baby. He didn’t catch his fall.
It took less than a second for Jason to realize that he couldn’t move his legs after he fell. No matter how hard he concentrated and how angry he was, he could not make his legs move.
“I’m sorry little one,” Jason whispered to the baby as he tucked it tightly against his chest, hoping to protect its tiny body from the bullet impacts he continued to feel. “I’m sorry, Erin. I love you.”
The next round hit Jason in the back of the skull.
Erin saw Jason fall, but was still too far away to see what happened. All she knew was that he hadn’t got back up yet. Someone else was running toward Jason and she was startled to recognize who it was.
Chivo didn’t break stride. He hit the PLA soldier closest to Jason as hard as he could, a brutal hit that led with the butt of his rifle. Chivo rolled and slid up to his feet with his rifle ready to battle. Rapidly he fired, shifting fire back and forth, killing the approaching men as quickly as he could aim. The first round hit Chivo in the thigh. He knew the feeling and knew that the wound wasn’t immediately important, but Bexar’s child was. He had to kill as many of these approaching assholes that he could and hope that Gonzo would get there in time.
Another round hit him in the ass. The PLA slowed their unorthodox advance at the sight of the crazed man with a rifle who was rapidly and accurately killing their comrades. The Zeds behind the PLA didn’t slow; they continued to advance, entering the PLA’s ranks, the soldier’s attention being kept to the front and the rambling battle. Chivo shifted fire as he rapidly switched an empty magazine for a fresh one. The PLA weren’t firing at him anymore, and his targets were now the growing wall of dead flesh that pushed on no matter what they did. Heavy rifle rounds cracked past Chivo. He didn’t know who was firing, but they were helping him so he didn’t care.Chivo turned and pulled Jason’s body off of the baby. Bexar’s child appeared OK, or at least it was still moving and crying. Chivo saw Jessie’s eyes looking back at him in the little round baby’s face. He clutched the baby girl—he was sure it was a girl just by her beautiful bright eyes—in his arms and tried to run. Being shot twice stopped any attempt to run very fast or much at all. Chivo glanced up and saw an old man with a rifle firing rapidly at him—around him—and saw a woman sprinting past the man and toward him. A woman he recognized.
Erin saw the Zeds and watched Chivo pick up the baby. Tears streamed down her face as she still ran toward the baby and Chivo. She knew her husband was dead. She failed him.
Rifle rounds fired by the old man snapped past them both. PLA and Zeds fell around them.
Erin reached Chivo. He held out the baby and handed her to Erin.
“Please.”
“For Jessie,” was Erin’s response.
Erin turned and began running back up the hill, away from the approaching Zeds, hoping like hell that she would make it. Chivo spun in place, raised his rifle, and began firing rapidly. Quickly, he inserted another fresh magazine and another, before dropping the empty and smoking rifle while drawing his pistol quickly and smoothly pressing the pistol into service. After some rapid hits, the pistol slide locked back on an empty chamber. Chivo thumbed the release as he grasped the last magazine with his left hand, before he was bit hard on the left shoulder.
No angry curse was yelled. Chivo knew his fate was sealed, but he still had to make sure Bexar’s baby made it out safe. He turned and punched the Zed in the head with his pistol. Still trying to insert the last magazine into his pistol, still trying to fight, still trying to protect Bexar’s baby, Chivo was pulled off his feet by more Zeds, their teeth pulling and ripping chunks of clothing and flesh with each hard bite.Chivo fought hard, angry he couldn’t finish his mission, angry that he failed Bexar and Jessie.
Gonzo sped down the hill in the M-ATV, the long suspension of the armored truck bouncing with the speed and terrain. He was headed toward a woman running at the front of an enormous horde of Zeds. The M-ATV slid to a stop in front of Erin. She was startled but immediately opened the door and climbed in, cradling the baby in her lap. The old man with the rifle climbed into the back seat and began throwing up from the exertion. Neither knew who he was, but he had obviously been on their side.
Silently, Gonzo drove as quickly as they could. There would be time to talk later, but first they had to beat the Zeds to the SSC if they were going to survive, a dark cloud of flies and death following in their wake.
EPILOGUE
December 26, Year 36
She stood atop Emory Peak and looked at the gleaming bronze plaque and read the inscription again.“The beginning of the fight by the most unlikely of people.”
She was one of the oldest of the next generation, the new generation of people born after the attack. She also didn’t know her exact birthday, just the date of her rescue from the PLA and the Zeds. Erin, her adoptive mother, refused tell her the story of her parents until she had been a teenager, just telling her that she had been adopted and that she was much loved. Erin named her after her mother and Erin’s mother, who she had found out, had been friends. Before Erin died, she had admitted that she didn’t know what her parents had actually named her and she still hurt deeply for not saving them. From what Erin had said, her mother Jessie and her father Bexar had been good people who had to overcome exceptional times.
Her childhood home, the facility under Lake Bardwell, was now a museum and she hadn’t visited in many years, not since President Lampton had passed away from natural causes 10 years ago. It did serve as the capital of the United States for a number of years before moving the capital above ground.
The war against the Chinese and Koreans didn’t last much longer past the attack on her parent’s house. The siege and battle for the SSC lasted for over a month before Steve Dorsey radioed in that the modifications were done and President Lampton gave the launch order. Not surprisingly, the re-fit of the ICBM launch controls had worked and if the Korean spy had been successful, she was quite sure that they would have lost the war, their country, and their lives.
After the nuclear strike, PLA forces had eventually surrendered. Prisoners of war with no home to return to were conscripted to rebuild what they had destroyed, most of them eventually becoming citizens and becoming part of the communities they rebuilt. A dozen container ships at a dozen different ports all along the western coast and the Gulf of Mexico had been sitting ready for the full invasion, but President Lampton ended it before it could fully start. That PLA equipment helped rebuild America. Dozens and dozens of radar trucks were used to establish small safe zones for survivors to gain a foothold. The surviving PLA soldiers didn’t know the real or full reason for the attack, only the propaganda given to them before it all started. At the root of the motivation for the attack was the communist party leadership. They had come up with the plan to attack and invade to seize global control. They hadn’t expected the Americans to survive more than four to six weeks before succumbing to the Zeds, so the invading forces would easily clear cities and the countryside with their radar trucks with minimal effort or fighting. Obviously, that hadn’t worked. The party leadership failed to take into account the self-reliance of the American people.
Eventually, those small safe zones expanded and Zeds were neutralized across the country. Some pockets were still infected, quarantined, and off limits; mostly larger cities, such as Miami and St. Louis, but much of the country was free from wandering dead. Regardless, Jessie still always carried a pistol. She didn’t trust that all of the Zeds had been truly found and neutralized. Most of the major cities still lay in ruins and would for generations to come, but places like New Austin had popped up in the expansive stretches of land throughout the country. They had a bright future.
She hiked down from the peak, along the Pinnacles trail and toward the cabins. The cabins that had been destroyed were rebuilt on he
r order. A beat-up old MRAP sat idling in the parking area for the cabins, two men armed with rifles waiting for her.
“Ready to head back, Madam President?”
She nodded and climbed inside.
She didn’t know her parents, and she didn’t personally experience the sacrifices that were made in those early days after the attack, but Jessie Sarah Reed was grateful for the sacrifices that were made so that humanity could survive.
So she could survive.
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Without the support and love of my wife Morgan and our family, this would not have been possible. Also without the support of all my friends, fans and readers the Winchester Undead series would not have been able to come to a conclusion.
Thank you.
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…