by Lundy, W. J.
Near the front of the room, the old man stopped and shined a flashlight over a row of sleeping bags. A husky man sat up and shielded his eyes from the light. Zeke pointed back toward Gyles, and the groggy man dipped his chin. He crawled from the bag and stood, pulling on a pair of trousers. A door slammed on the opposite side of the room, and Gyles watched as an armed man ran along the outside wall toward another door that Gyles knew led to the keep below them.
When he looked back to his front, Zeke was standing there with the big, husky man. He wore canvas pants and a heavy blue work shirt with a red fanny pack on his hip. But on top of all of that, he wore a thick leather belt of .410 shotgun slugs over his shoulder. Gyles ignored the stranger for the moment and pointed to the door the armed man had moved through. “Something going on?” he whispered to Zeke.
Zeke nodded. “Yeah, I saw it too. Boys are getting twitchy tonight with the infected so close. We haven’t seen them like this before. Always in the streets, but never piled up against the gates.”
“Maybe you haven’t, but I’ve seen plenty,” the husky man interrupted. “You all need to think about leaving, and do it soon.”
Scratching his chin, Gyles examined the man. He certainly looked the type of a truck driver, that is if truckers had a type. “This is Hansen, I take it?”
“They just call me Joe here; Joe will do just fine, if you don’t mind.”
Gyles smiled. “I hear you’ve got a truck, Joe.”
The man shook his head no. “I had a truck. I left it out there when I got hung up at a roadblock. Things were about to start chewing on my ass, so I ran. But like I been telling these folks, all I need is some help moving parked cars out of the way, and we could be on the road again. Most of the road to the church is clear past the roadblock.”
“Clear of infected?” Gyles asked.
“You trying to be funny, soldier boy? Hell no, it’s not clear of infected,” Joe gasped. “There’s lots of them, but the truck doesn’t mind running them down, either.”
Gyles tightened his brow. He had begun to speak, when he saw the small door from the keep open again. The armed man was back and headed toward the tower stairs, this time with Lawson and Sherman close in tow. Gyles looked at Zeke again. “Is this something I need to be worried about?”
Zeke had his eyes focused on the trio as they entered the stairway and closed the door behind them. Shortly after that, gunshots echoed from high above them, and what had been dull moans outside erupted into ravenous screams and howls. Zeke’s head snapped back to Gyles. “Yeah, you need to be worried.”
The soldier sprang to his feet. Looking across the space, he could see his men were up and looking for him, Mega cradling the machine gun with Culver and Kenny flanking him. Gyles raised a hand and circled it over his head, calling them in. The men immediately took notice and moved in his direction. He turned back to the trucker. “You got a shotgun to go with those .410 rounds, Joe?”
The man shook his head no. He reached into the fanny pack around his waist and retrieved a Judge revolver. “Got this though.”
Moving in from the back, Mega pointed and laughed. “Is that a fanny pack?”
Joe looked down at his hip, placing the Judge revolver back into the pocket and zipping it shut. The trucker shook his head. “No, this is a holster.”
Mega laughed and walked away, saying, “Bro, you’re sick. That’s a fanny pack, and you know it.”
Gyles waved the big soldier off then pointed back toward where Joe had been sleeping. “You got gear you need, I suggest you go grab it.”
“Everything I own is out there in that truck,” the man said in a voice that barely elicited interest.
At that time, Mega and the others closed in. Mega went to speak, when Gyles held up his palm. “Listen, if this is what I think it is, we’re about to be hit hard. And we know from Vines that we got one chance, and that is to get the hell out of here before they get in.”
“I told you, mister, my truck is hung up blocks from here.”
Nodding, Gyles pointed at Kenny. “I saw the truck from the tower. I can get you there, and we just happen to have an Uber driver that’s more than willing to guide us back.”
“I am?” Kenny said.
“Yeah, that’s what scouts do, right? Find a path?” Gyles said, winking.
Kenny looked back at the others then nodded his head nervously. “Take me to where you left the truck, and I’ll get us there and back no problem.”
“Good,” Gyles said. “But we will need to move fast. If the yard hasn’t already fallen, it soon will.”
Joe shook his head and took a step back. “Even if we do get my truck, what good will that do us here? Like I said, the road is blocked. How you going to clear it in the dark with all of them things out there?”
Gyles bit his lip. “Just take Kenny to the truck, he’ll navigate us back here.”
“How? I been telling you, there’s a roadblock,” Joe said.
Turning and looking back at the families, now awake, Gyles ignored the trucker’s concerns. He faced his team. “Have your weapons ready to go, but I have a feeling we’re going to have to be quiet on this one, moving on foot and staying in the shadows. If we are spotted, we run and gun. Are you all up for that?”
Culver shook his head. “I don’t like it, Sergeant, but sounds like we’re out of options.”
The gunfire from above quickened in its pace, dozens of rifles all firing at the same time. The moans began to spread to the left side of the church, the sound beating against the cracks of the gunfire.
Gyles looked at Zeke. “Can you get us into the yard? We need to get going.”
Zeke shook his head. “I need to talk to Sherman first; he won’t like you leaving.”
“We aren’t leaving, dammit; we’re securing transportation to get us all the hell away from here.” He pointed his finger in the old man’s chest. “You need to get us out of here and make sure these people are ready to go when we get back—now help us save all your asses.”
Gyles pulled the handheld radio from his collar and handed it off to Zeke. “Give this to Sherman. It doesn’t have range for shit, but when we return, I’ll call you. You’ll need to tell us where to park that truck.” He stopped and looked at Joe. “And you better be able to get it back here.” He spun on his feet and moved to the back doors. “Come on, boys, we’ve got work to do.”
He marched off, not looking back. He knew the others would be close. That was the way his troops were trained. They hated the shit just as much as he did, but they all did their part. They protested, called it like it was, then moved on and sucked it up. Walking through the crowd, he could see the people were panicked, stuffing belongings into backpacks. Men gathered rifles and melee weapons. Gyles clenched his jaw, trying to block out the nightmare of Vines that was playing on repeat through his head. Every child he saw in the church reminded him of a baby at Vines. He clenched his teeth and pushed on. He shook his head, knowing the people in here wouldn’t last two minutes if the infected got inside.
He reached the heavy double doors and waited while Zeke ordered them open. Men with nervous expressions pressed in and worked a lock. One man apprehensively pulled the door inward. Gyles waited for a crack wide enough to fit his body then stepped through into the musty hallway, headed for the back entrance. At the rear door, he paused again and waited for his men to stack up behind him. Zeke moved around them and used a skeleton key attached to a string around his neck to unlock the door. He looked at the soldiers then back to Gyles. “Why not take the Hummer?”
Gyles shook his head. “It’s too loud. The horde would just block us in and swarm the yard as we tried to get out. We need to do this quiet or not at all.”
Zeke grimaced and reached into his field jacket pocket. He pulled a key ring out and handed it to Gyles. “Go through the garage. There is a back door that exits onto the street. You can get into an alley from there and the breakaway. If the path is clear, we can use the same door to get ever
yone out.”
Gyles clenched his teeth and accepted the key ring. He then looked down at the doorknob and dipped his chin. They were ready to move. He looked back at the team and let the rifle hang from its sling. He drew a long fighting knife and watched as the others did the same. “We stay quiet as long as we can. Joe, you stay inside of us. Don’t do anything stupid. You understand?”
The big man nodded then put the Judge revolver back into the fanny pack, replacing it with a shortened bowie knife. “Just get me back to my truck.”
“Okay, tough guy,” Gyles said, grinning.
Zeke turned the door and slowly let it swing out. To Gyles’s relief, the yard was still clear, but the screams of the infected were amplified now that they were down inside the walls. Gyles stepped out and down the stairs, posting up on the sidewalk as he waited for the others to line up behind him. As soon as he felt the tap on his shoulder from Culver, he moved out at a crouch, heading directly toward the side door of the garage. He had the key ring in his hand as soon as he arrived. He heard the clicking of gear as his men moved into position to cover his work. The ring only had two keys, and the first choice was wrong. On the second key, the lock slid into position and turned freely.
He let the door glide open and stood to the side as his men moved in. Keeping his back to the door, he closed it but left it unlocked. He didn’t know if Zeke had a second key and didn’t want them locked out when it was time to go.
Gyles paused, holding his breath and looking around the space while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The only light came from a tiny skylight in the ceiling, bleeding in the faintest amount of moonlight. Aside from some gardening tools hanging on the walls, the room was empty. Tire marks on the floor revealed where a pair of vehicles once sat. He moved slowly around the perimeter of the building, finding the back door. He let his hand survey the door in the dark. There was a dead bolt at the top, but the door handle itself had no lock.
Gyles stepped off to the side and looked at Kenny, pointing to the left. Then to Culver and Mega, indicating the right. When he pulled the door in, the men moved in concert. Silently, Kenny slipped out with Joe close behind him, moving to the left, Mega and Culver out and to the right. Gyles followed the team into an alley and shut the door behind him. He checked the key ring and found that the second key fit the bolt lock, so he turned and secured the garage door.
There was some light in the alley, allowing him to see both ends. Behind them to the right on the street that they’d originally approached the church on, he could see moving shadows. To his front to the west, the infected were moving past the alley entrance, presumably to the north, toward the gunfire and the main gate of the church. As long as they keep moving into the line of fire, they have a chance at holding them off, he thought. He shook his head, remembering the Vine armory. Any victory will be short-lived. The Primals would hit the gate at first but soon adapt, and eventually hit all sides at once. They needed to hurry.
Kenny was exchanging whispers with Joe, who was pointing in some far-off direction. Gyles let them finish the conversation then waited for Kenny to look back at him. He gave the scout a thumbs up and the team stepped off together, keeping their bodies hidden in the shadow of the wall. Moving slow, they crept along at a crouch, stopping often to listen. Beyond the church, the wall ended, and the alley opened to fenced-in backyards.
Gyles halted the group and surveyed the empty spaces ahead. It was a residential neighborhood. He could see over fences to finely crafted patios and well-kept homes. Grass was long and uncut, showing the time since the infection caused the normal functions of the world to stop. The humidity of late to mid-summer would have the grass growing inches a day. He could see in the dim light a kitchen window. The glass was broken, and the curtains moved faintly in the breeze. He looked down at the glowing dial on his watch then back at Kenny. He moved them out.
At the corner, Gyles held Kenny and Joe back as he slowly approached with Culver. Mega cut the distance and readied his machine gun in case they had to bug out in a hurry. Gyles squatted and advanced to the corner at a near crawl, a split rail fence the only thing providing cover. He moved into the tall grass and pointed toward a tall oak tree, where Culver quickly took up a position. Gyles drew closer to the intersection and looked left and right. A group of Primals had recently passed by, and the next group was still too far away to count their numbers. He readied his legs for a sprint, when Culver’s palm shot up in the air, halting him.
Gyles froze and watched as the younger soldier got small, pressing into the base of the tree, trying to disappear. Gyles followed his lead and pressed himself to the ground and slowly moved toward him. Only feet away, he leopard crawled, closing the distance. Culver looked back at him; his face was stone hard. He put a finger to his eye then pointed it to the opposite corner. Gyles strained and tried to focus his eyes in the low light.
It took time to see it, then they moved. A pair of men. They stood still, their heads hardly moving side to side, their eyes searching the street. Before Gyles could speak, he heard footsteps coming from the south. He pushed back and looked to his right. Another group was approaching. “Damn,” he whispered.
“What do we do?” Culver asked.
Gyles held his breath then whispered, “Hold tight. We don’t move, and they won’t see us.” He looked back over his shoulder; the rest of his team had disappeared, already taking cover in the shadows. The sounds of shuffling feet grew louder, joined with heavy breathing and grunting, as the group drew closer. Gyles blocked them out and put his focus back on the two figures on the opposite corner. Their bodies shifted slightly to see the approaching mass, then they turned back toward the fighting at the church.
The group moved by, staggering along. Some walked as calmly as if they were on a Sunday stroll, others dragged along broken and damaged limbs. Even in the low light, Gyles could spot wounds and injuries that should have made the things immobile or, at least, bedridden with pain. He counted twenty before the entire group had passed. When he looked back at the far corner, the pair was gone. He lifted back up and pressed in close to Culver. “Did you see where they went?”
“They joined the group and moved north.”
Gyles looked back at the spot where the pair had been. He swept the vegetation and the corners then nodded. “I’ll cross first. When I give the signal, send the rest.”
“Got it, Sergeant,” Culver responded.
Gyles took a last look then unslung his rifle, holding it in his left hand, and sheathed his fighting knife into the carrier across his chest. He exhaled then stepped off heavy, running across the street, every footfall seeming to echo like a sledgehammer crushing stone. He could hear every jingle and jangle of his equipment, sure the mob would turn and run at him before he reached the far side, and then he was there. He stopped at the side of a parked sedan before dropping to his heels in a squat and pressing his back against the car.
Taking only a moment to catch his breath, he lifted back up and surveyed the space. This side of the alley appeared the same as the one they’d just left—a narrow, single lane dividing backyards in the residential block. He had his back to one home, looking across to another. Gyles looked back, seeing Culver pressed against the tree. Mega, Kenny, and Joe had moved up, readying for their own move across the danger area. Gyles prepared to give the signal, when he heard a low, guttural growl.
Chapter Twelve
Day of Infection, Plus Nineteen
East of Paris, Virginia
Luke eased off the throttle and let the MRAP settle in the middle of the two-lane highway. Looking in the distance, he could see that the road would soon split into four lanes. There was something up there, something that required more than the two-lane county highway they’d been traveling on. Far ahead on the right side of the road was a silent, white farmhouse with barns, outbuildings, and a blacktop driveway. He stared at it for a long time, watching for motion or a flash of white light. Satisfied the place was empty, he let his eyes c
ontinue to search the surrounding terrain until stopping on the asphalt to the immediate front of the vehicle. He checked the rearview mirror then closed his eyes and sighed.
He killed the engine, and for the first time since they’d left the camp, he relaxed his back and shoulders, letting his muscles press against the seat. The vehicle was quiet, absent the snoring soldiers in the back. Even surrounded by monsters and behind enemy lines, the men of the Reaper Platoon knew it was important to sleep when they could.
He reached for a bag between the seats and fetched a bottle of water. As he sipped, Weaver stirred and opened his eyes. The man suddenly snapped awake, startled, trying to remember where he was. Luke had seen men at war awaken this way plenty of times. It was usually best to leave them alone and let them work it out on their own. Each man seemed to have his own process. Weaver’s eyes quickly scanned the scenery outside the window then finally settled on Luke. “There a problem? Why did we stop?”
“No problem; I just need a break, eyes are starting to play tricks on me in the dark.”
Weaver nodded his head wearily and yawned. “What time is it?”
Luke shrugged. “Either really late or real early, depending on how you look at it. Sun should be up soon.”
The sergeant scratched at his chin and whispered, “Okay.” Then he turned back to the front, searching the terrain through the bulletproof glass, before looking into the back to see his snoring men.
Luke picked up on the sergeant checking his soldiers and asked, “So where are the rest of them?”
“The rest of who?” Weaver asked.
Luke grinned from the side of his mouth. “The Reapers. You know we ain’t coming back. How you going to just go and leave half your people behind at Camp Alamo?”
Weaver yawned again and shook his head. “Nah… it’s not like that. We got everyone. Most of those other guys in the platoon were new to us. Bunch of individuals and bits of other units collected by the Colonel. We’ve been too busy to really conform.” Weaver yawned and stretched. “Gyles has Culver and Mega, the rest of my squad are sleeping in the back. I talked to Sergeant Alverez last night. He’s been kind of Gyles’s right-hand man lately. Good guy, but he’s a Georgia boy, through-and-through. He was more than happy to take what’s left of the Reapers back to Fort Stewart.”