The racket from Binkowski’s machine gun knocked him back into reality. She fired in three-to-five round bursts, reciting “Die, motherfucker, die!” with each squeeze of the butterfly grips. Rounds ripped into the crowd of undead like individual lightning strikes. She kept her aim high, as she specifically needed to pull off headshots.
“What’s the holdup, Corporal?” Keegan said.
“Nothing, sir,” Reimer said. He yanked back on the cocking lever and started blasting the horde. The corpses absorbed the hits, jolting backward as 7.62mm rounds ripped through their upper torsos. Reimer gritted his teeth and focused his aim. Fixing his iron sights on one heavyset target in the center, he unleashed. The bullets grazed the top of its head, crushing the skull just enough to cave down on the functioning brain matter. The corpse, now truly dead, fell backward, the area above its eyes mangled into a mess of bone and coagulated blood.
Reimer tensed and sucked in a deep breath. It was exactly what he was trained not to do, but it was the only thing that seemed to allow him to focus. Another three-round burst exploded another head like a spoiled melon. On the other side of the chopper, Binkowski was cheering. Her three-round bursts were consistent, with hardly a full second’s pause in-between them.
“Keep it up, ladies! We’re not shopping at the mall here!” Keegan pressed them. “We don’t have all day.”
The pilots adjusted the Chinook’s position, as the ghouls had begun to congregate beneath them. They rotated, giving the gunners a better view of their targets. Reimer and Binkowski kept up the assault, layering the parking lot with fallen corpses.
Reimer sucked in another breath, forcing his sluggish brain to cooperate. His shots were becoming more accurate, as he allowed the kick of the weapon to help him find his headshots. He fired in five-round bursts, the first of those rounds striking the bodies’ torsos then working its way up to their skulls. Firing more consistently, he began putting more down in rapid succession. With the success came confidence. He reduced his bursts to three rounds.
Binkowski was on a roll, making a game of the situation. She wasn’t just pulling off headshots but was finding new ways to immobilize the walkers. She deliberately aimed low on one target, putting several rounds into its abdomen. Pink and grey matter spilled from both the front and back. The ghoul rocked to-and-fro, its upper trunk sliding completely off its waist. Writhing on its back, it still tried to reach up at the chopper, as moldy intestines untangled from its gut.
“You’re wasting bullets, Private!” Keegan scolded her.
“My bad, sir,” she quipped. As the two gunners continued their assault, the crowd of over a hundred was reduced to a couple dozen. The targets spaced out from each other, stumbling over the bodies of the fallen.
Reimer sucked in another breath and unleashed another barrage onto another corpse. The bullets struck its shoulder, sending its left arm flying off as though jet propelled. He tilted the weapon, improving his accuracy into the target’s brain. He watched the skull rip into massive shards, which opened from the center like flower petals. Behind the cloud of pink and charcoal colored goo was a speck of gold. The bullet had passed through the target and skidded on the rim of the tanker. Reimer looked up, alarmed. Luckily, it didn’t appear to have breached the container.
“Jesus, guys. Not too close!” one of the pilots yelled.
“Alright, shut it down!” Keegan said.
“We still have uglies down there, Staff Sergeant!” Binkowski said.
“They are too close to the tanker,” Keegan said. “I will take care of them. You, on the other hand, get ready to disembark!”
“Aye aye, sir!” Reimer said. Stepping away from the machine guns, he and Binkowski armed themselves with their suppressed M-4 Carbines. The chopper elevated as the pilots brought it to the hospital roof. Dunn and Fisher stood ready and waiting. Watching the windows, they could see the world seemingly spinning around them as the chopper rotated to position the ramp.
Reimer paid extra attention to be sure he had full magazines, including one in his rifle. The haze that was his wearied brain would not let up. The adrenaline did not help. In fact, it only seemed to perpetuate the shakes, which he tried to hide. In doing so, he was only exhausting himself further.
“We will be eight floors up. The civilians are five floors down,” Reimer said to his squad. “Remember protocol. Ammo is limited, so use it sparingly.”
The ramp door lowered, the edge of it scraping against the dead garden previously landscaped onto the roof.
“Go! Go! Go!” Keegan barked. Reimer was first to go, with Dunn jumping down right beside him. Fisher and Binkowski followed, the former carrying a supply bag. With their rifles lifted to eye level, the team moved toward a structure that resembled a security guard shark.
Dunn kicked the door inward and stepped in. A reanimated corpse, having slumped against the desk, rose to life at the sight of fresh prey. Dunn cracked the butt of his rifle into its nose, squishing the tissue as he drove it backward. The corpse fell on its back, immediately reaching back up, jaws snapping like a piranha.
Dunn stomped his foot on its jaw, pinning it to the ground, before plunging a knife through its temple. That was protocol. Bullets were not as high in commodity these days. Wind gusts swept the roof as the chopper pulled away behind them, lowering near the fuel tanker.
“Here we go,” Reimer said. At the back of the building was an elevator and stairwell. “Binkowski, open that door and step back!” The marine did as ordered. The handle was unlocked. She yanked it open, stepping back for Reimer to observe the stairs beneath them. “Clear! Let’s go!”
They took the stairs two floors down where it dead ended.
“Of course!” Fisher said. “Clearly, they have to make stairways that only go down partway.”
“Must be staff use only. Since we came down from the roof, this would put us on the seventh,” Reimer said. He positioned at the hallway entrance. “I’ll go first.”
The door opened to a hallway leading to the Oncology department. They passed a set of double doors on the right, where several dead patients lay motionless on their beds.
“Keep it down,” Reimer whispered. They didn’t know if they had reanimated or had their brains destroyed, nor did he care to find out. The team pressed on into the next hall, checking for signs along the way.
“Stairwell to the left, sir,” Binkowski said.
“Everybody converge on it,” Reimer said. “Fisher, watch our six. Dunn, open it.”
Holding his Carbine by the grip, Dunn approached the door. It was a simple push-door with no latch. He pushed inward and stepped inside. A corpse wearing a hospital gown had been seated a few steps down. She turned, the white gown stained with foul residue from her flesh. Strands of hair fell from her scalp as the ghoul lunged at Dunn. Thrusting his rifle out, he pinned her to the wall, allowing for Binkowski to plunge a knife through her eye. Dunn let the corpse drop, its weight freeing the blade from the skull.
The sounds of moans rose from the bend in the stairwell. Fisher activated a flashlight attached to his rifle barrel and pointed down past the guardrail. Several corpses had been stirred into action.
“We got six, maybe seven coming up,” he said.
“Go in hand-to-hand,” Reimer said. “The stairwell will keep their paths narrow. Do not shoot, unless you want to bring more on us!”
Fisher and Binkowski fixed bayonets and hustled down to greet the enemy. Reimer fixed a flashlight down the dark stairway, illuminating the gaping mouth of a reanimated healthcare professional. Blood and skin dangled from the sleeves of the scrubs as it moved in to bite Fisher. He pulled the weapon back, looking for the best place for sticking the blade, as a thirty-inch M4 with a seven-inch bayonet was not as effective as a five-foot spear. The marine thrust his bayonet in an upward angle, ramming the blade under its jaw and into its brain. As he yanked it free, Binkowski plunged her blade into the next one, plowing it through the roof of its open mouth.
Th
e remaining undead climbed the steps; the wall and guardrail keeping them narrow as though in an assembly line. Binkowski and Fisher stabbed with precision, silently and efficiently putting each one down as they drew near.
With a thrust of her knife, Binkowski killed the last one. Fisher stepped over their festering corpses and moved down the steps. He cleared the bend and continued ascending. Waving to the others, he signaled the all-clear.
“Good news. This leads to the third level,” he said.
“So far, so good,” Binkowski responded. Perhaps this would go quicker than expected. She knew well enough to keep that thought to herself.
********
The Chinook touched down, crunching several bodies into the pavement. Sergeant Keegan leapt from the fuselage entry, striking his rifle across the face of a surviving zombie. After it fell to the pavement, he stomped the heel of his boot on its face, caving the front of its skull into its brain.
He ran ten steps before dropping to a firing position. Three corpses walked from around the tanker toward him. They each hyperextended their jaws like a snake, reaching their arms as they lunged. With his M4A1 set to semi-automatic, Keegan tapped the trigger. The back of their skulls exploded into a thick black splurge as a round penetrated each of their foreheads.
Gordon and Kane exited the Chinook and covered the east side of the tanker. There were at least four stumbling out from behind it, and several more moving in over the fence. The nearest four were spaced out well enough to be handled individually.
Gordon took the nearest one, embedding a knife into its skull. Kane took the second and third, knocking one down with a kick to the chest and plunging a knife through the eye socket of the next. As he finished off the other by crushing its head with the butt of his rifle, Gordon took on the fourth. As it drew near, it lunged with a burst of speed. He stepped aside, dodging its grasp, before shoving his blade through the back of its head.
He sheathed the knife and joined Staff Sergeant Keegan in picking off several incoming zombies moving over the fence, while Kane completed a tour around the tanker.
“Tanker is clear, sir!” he said.
“Kane, you’re with me! Gordon, keep those bastards off of us,” Keegan ordered. Gordon dropped to a kneeling stance, carefully placing rounds in the heads of several approaching corpses.
Keegan pulled the heavy hose toward the refueling probe, while Kane waited near the lever. The Staff Sergeant hooked the hose in place then signaled Kane with a thumbs-up. Kane pulled the lever, pumping over a thousand pounds of fuel into its storage.
********
The stairwell door led Reimer and his team into a wide lobby. All four of them hesitated in a moment of stunned silence, seeing over a dozen walking corpses in a feeding frenzy. They were separated into three groups, each of them pulling the entrails out of freshly killed civilians.
One zombie turned its head, looking at the marines with white eyes. It stood up and snarled, red flesh dangling from its front teeth. As it started lumbering toward them, the others began standing up, spurred by the sight of living prey.
“Weapons free,” Reimer said. He took the first shot. His aim was slightly low, plowing through the zombie’s lower jaw. The force of the shot knocked it down on its back. He aimed to finish it off, but the others were quickly converging. The team stood side-by-side in a firing line, picking off the incoming corpses. Skull and brain matter splashed onto the ceiling, silencing the endless snarling.
Except one.
The first corpse leaned up, its lower jaw and tongue dangling by loose strands of meat. Reimer inhaled through his nose as he moved in. He stomped down hard on its face, driving it back down to the floor. It grabbed up at him with bony hands, pulling on his pantleg.
Lack of strength prevented the Corporal from crushing the skull. Now, with frustration added to his fatigue, he simply pressed the barrel of his gun to its face and squeezed the trigger.
“Let’s go,” he muttered.
“Hey man, you know you just wasted a…”
“I said, let’s go!” Reimer nearly shouted. He pushed forward into the next hall. Binkowski hugged the right of the hall, shooting down two corpses that approached. Reimer held up a fist, signaling for the men to stop. Listening carefully, they could hear the numerous growling of several other walkers nearby. The sounds, though loud and numerous, sounded to be muffled by some sort of physical barrier. They approached a juncture, where they found a set of double doors leading into the Day Stay unit. Two zombies ambled near the back, oblivious to the marines’ presence.
Reimer could still hear the intense moaning, but it wasn’t coming from here.
“This way,” he said, directing them past the door.
“What about these guys?” Dunn said.
“There’s only two,” Reimer said. “Not worth our time. Let’s go.”
The team pressed on, taking a left turn at the next juncture. The further they moved, the louder the groans were. Three zombies were on their hands and knees, digging deep into the flesh of a still-writhing victim.
“Fisher, Dunn, you’re up,” Reimer said. The two marines charged, their footsteps attracting the gaze of the three walkers. They each sprang to their feet, the motion tearing away the flesh their jaws had clenched while kneeling. Silver bayonets pierced their skulls like spears from the Roman era, ridding whatever spark of life that had spurred the corpses from their graves.
The two marines knelt down by the civilian.
“We got a live one!” Dunn said. The civilian was coughing uncontrollably, spewing blood between his gums. His stomach had been pulled apart, resulting in a huge fleshy crater. “Are there any other survivors?” Dunn asked him.
“He’s not going to answer,” Binkowski said. Dunn grabbed the civilian by his collar.
“Answer me now! Are there any others?”
Binkowski looked to Reimer, her eyes blazing. “Are you gonna allow this?” Blood and vomit shot from the civilian’s mouth.
“There…there!” he said, pointing to a set of double doors. Dunn looked up, seeing a sign that read Critical Care. Through the windows they could see several figures moving about. He released his grip on the civilian. In extreme pain, he tried to form the words help, but couldn’t get it out. There was nothing the marines could do for him. Even if he wasn’t infected, the wound was too severe.
“Dunn, put him down,” Reimer said. Dunn looked back at Reimer.
This is why we shouldn’t have come here. It took everything to keep those thoughts subdued from reaching his lips. Binkowski helped roll the civilian over, whispering a gentle “shhh” to calm him down. Dunn pressed his rifle to the back of his head and fired, ending the agony.
“Let’s finish this and get the hell out of here!” Dunn said. They gathered near the door, Reimer and Fisher on the left, Binkowski and Dunn on the right. All at once, they burst through, weapons blazing into their targets.
Several of the undead were in a feeding frenzy within the middle of the room, tearing internal organs from the bellies of freshly killed civilians. All at once, they sprang toward the fresh meat standing in the doorway. Their growls were suppressed by the blasts of multiple M4s. With their weapons set to full auto, the marines sent a wall of bullets into the horde, dropping their bodies at their feet.
After reloading, the group entered the Critical Care check-in lobby. In the center of the room was a large counter, where the supervising nurse would sit. To the left were the patient rooms, while the nurse’s work station was off to the right. It was from there that they could hear the muffled yelling of someone yelling for help.
“Dunn, Fisher, maintain position here. Binkowski, you’re with me,” Reimer said. They rushed down to the end of the small hallway, seeing two zombies pushing hard to get through a closed door. Hearing the marines approaching, the two zombies turned to attack what they thought to be easier prey. Skin and nails dangled from claw-like fingers as they lashed out.
Reimer went in first, striking
one with his rifle while Binkowski bayoneted the other through the eye. Reimer struck the fallen zombie repeatedly like a madman, gradually bashing its skull in. With its face completely folded inward, Reimer stumbled back. Binkowski stepped toward him to reach out, thinking the Corporal was about to lose his balance.
“I’m good,” he said. He directed her to the door.
“United States Marine Corps! Open the door immediately!” she yelled. She had barely finished speaking when the door swung open, revealing two terrified men. They were both in their mid-forties, wearing windbreakers and suits underneath.
“Oh, thank God you’re here!” one of them said.
“Where are the others?” Reimer asked.
“There are none,” the terrified man said. “They came in through the fences. Everyone just panicked and ran everywhere! My escorts led me in here. We were trying to make it to the roof, but these things were on us at every turn!”
“Escorts?” Dunn said, marching into the hallway. “What do you mean, escorts?”
“Dunn, stow it,” Reimer said. The survivors looked at him, flabbergasted.
“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked.
“Never mind!” Reimer said, physically grabbing the man and pulling him through the hall. “Go! We’re moving out. Back to the roof!” He adjusted the mic on his helmet. “Motherbird, we are en route back to the roof.”
“Copy that. How many civilians?”
“Two.”
A brief pause followed.
“Ten-four. We are near complete on our refuel. Meet you in just a couple of minutes.”
“Copy that, Motherbird.” Reimer yelled to his marines. “Move! Move! Move! Sir, you’re gonna have to pick up the pace!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” one of the men said. Reimer felt a hard tap on his shoulder. Dunn was almost in his face, keeping pace with them as they ran out into the hallway. Fisher and Binkowski led the way, with the contacts right behind them. Moving back the way they came in, they ran to the end of the hall and took a right at the juncture.
Z-Level 10: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel Page 2