Reimer leaned against a boulder that stuck like a shelf from the ground. He found himself staring back into the woods, watching for any movement. Yet, all he could see was the image of a melting face, a burning rookie, an airman disappearing between a horde, and a sailor disappearing into the ground. The screams of all four were pounding the inside of his head. Behind those screams was the debate between Gordon and Dunn.
“They’re not concerned with our lives. I’m telling you, dude, we’re cannon fodder,” Dunn whispered to Gordon. The twenty-five-year old marine was shaking his head.
“I don’t think it’s as simple as that, Dunn,” he said. “We’re the freaking military. Risking our lives is part of the job description.”
“Risking our lives is, yes. Wasting our lives is not! We lost three people last time…to save two people. We’ve lost SIX people this time…for one person. Not to mention what the others were talking about. Remember? Fighting off civilians from rescue convoys to secure space for whatever valuable person or equipment the government ordered.”
“Come on, Dunn. I know we’ve been in fucked up situations before. Anyone with a brain knows the government has been involved with fucked up shit before and probably now. But this mission? I just don’t think they’d send us through this hell if this lady wasn’t as important as they say.”
“Kid, you’ve placed your faith too easily in your leadership,” Dunn said. “Shit like that will be your downfall. I’m telling you, Gordon, we’re gonna have to start looking out for ourselves.”
Gordon sighed, frustrated by what he believed were incoherent rantings. Dunn was a good marine and Gordon trusted him to have his back in any situation. But these paranoid ramblings about the government were becoming a little much for him.
“Corporal,” Gordon whispered. “Why don’t you talk some sense into him?”
“Talk sense into me?” Dunn was starting to raise his voice. “Talk sense into Mr. Positivity here.”
Once again, he found himself in the middle in yet another debate. It seemed that they always expected him to be the referee or the tie-breaker. Reimer’s headache was starting to set in again. He didn’t know where he stood on the matter. Currently, all he wanted was to get out of this ordeal. But behind that urge was his desire to serve his nation and help preserve what remained of mankind.
“How about both of you knock it the hell off,” Reimer said.
“Is there a problem here?” Keegan said, marching over to them.
Bolden leaned against the tree, eavesdropping on the conversation. He pulled a Nutrigrain bar from his pocket and began to peel the plastic off. It was covered in mud from the bog. He ran his thumb over the grime, feeling a tar-like texture. What little remained of his appetite was gone and he tossed it away.
Bell slumped down against a tree, his lungs puffing deep breaths as he recovered from the shock and physical exhaustion. The former tank operator tried to maintain a straight face and positive attitude. After all, he was on a combat mission, and succumbing to fear would do nobody any good.
“You alright there, big guy?” Keegan asked him.
“Just getting it together, sir,” Bell answered.
“Me too,” Keegan muttered, more to himself than Bell. He raised his voice again to address the team. “Alright, we’re taking ten here. Everyone keep an eye out. God only knows what else is waiting for us out here.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Dunn said. “First the birds, then the trees, then the fucking Little Shop of Horrors. What’s next? Are the rocks gonna come alive?”
“Dunn, keep your shit together,” Keegan said. “This is your last mission, remember? Help us get out of this alive, you get to be a civilian again.” Dunn sucked in a few deep breaths through his nose, exhaling out his mouth.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“Now, go scout ahead and see what’s along that ridge,” Keegan ordered. Dunn inhaled another deep breath.
“Aye aye, Sir.” At least they were out of the bog. He hustled up the hill, quickly disappearing behind the trees. The sun grew a bit brighter as he moved up the incline. After a hundred yards, he even came across a few golden streaks. Then finally, he found a break in the trees.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered to himself. He dug his heels into the ground, stopping himself at the ledge of a fifty-foot rock cliff. He sucked in a breath of fresh air. The air was clearer up here than behind the tree line. The light was almost blinding after spending hours in that black forest. He gazed outward, looking at the forest that blanketed the landscape ahead of him. Like the forest they passed through, it was dead. Fog swirled above the canopy, the branches dripping a strange solution into the ground. The momentary sense of relief ended, and the PFC was filled with a new sense of dread. They would have to pass through that forest to get to the objective.
If that objective was even alive.
The silence was interrupted by the sound of cracking twigs, followed by a slimy growling. Dunn glanced over his right shoulder, seeing a stray ghoul lumbering toward him from behind a boulder. It was scrawny, its greenish skin hugging the ribcage. In a late stage of decay, the ghoul was visibly weak. There was hardly any muscle tissue in its arms for it to raise its hands at him. Its feet dragged, forcing the corpse to use momentum to take steps. Toe bones protruded from the split ends of tennis shoes on its feet, the ragged ends of khaki pants trailing threads.
Dunn stared at the flesh-eater as it stumbled toward him. His faced tensed with anger. His blood boiled inside him, turning his face a dark red. He let the thing draw near until it was only a few feet away. With a burst of energy, he set loose on it. He rammed an elbow into its forehead, knocking it down on its back. Mad with pent up rage, he kicked the ghoul repeatedly in the ribs. Splintered bones protruded from thin moldy skin tissue. The ghoul snapped its jaws at him, feeling nothing but a persistent hunger. Dunn kicked it in the chin, dislocating its jaw. Teeth sprinkled around its head and rolled away like stones.
Dunn kept kicking, keeping just enough control of his outburst to not yell out. He stomped on the arms, cracking the elbows, then repeated the motion with the legs and knees. Bones crushed into shards as he punished the corpse for all the sins of the apocalypse.
He staggered back, panting heavily as he recovered. He glared at the undead opponent, its brain still functional, though its body was now completely inoperable. It laid on the ground in a mangled position, its head twitching in an attempt to generate a biting motion.
The neurons in his brain lit up as he heard another snarling sound behind him. He turned, seeing another corpse staggering toward him. In his madness, he never heard it emerging from the woods. It was fresher, moving faster, already bearing down on him. As he reached for his gun, another figure burst from the tree line.
Reimer raised his knife high and hammered down, plunging the blade through the top of the ghoul’s head. As it slumped into its permanent lifeless state, he withdrew the knife and kicked the body away with his boot.
“You trying to get yourself killed?” he said to Dunn. He looked past him, seeing the mangled corpse he had beaten. “A little recreation?” The PFC shook his head, his face still mad. In one final burst he lunged at the ghoul, grabbing it under the arms. Skin tore as he dragged it across the ground. With a twist of his hips, he hurled it over the edge of the cliff and watched as it splattered over the rocks below.
Dunn sucked in several more breaths before making eye contact with the Corporal.
“Just sick of seeing soldiers getting killed,” he muttered.
“You’re not the only one it wears on,” Reimer said.
“Yeah, I know,” Dunn said. “What are you doing up here, anyway?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m checking on you, dumbass.” They both grinned. “Turns out it was worth it. Seems you found the only clean patch of forest.”
“I’m trying to enjoy it while I can,” Dunn said. He pulled a pair of binoculars from his vest and started scanning the area. “Cable had the map. We have n
o satellite connection out here. At this point it’s a guessing game.”
“You see anything out there?” Reimer asked. Dunn didn’t answer right away as he panned slowly. From what he could tell, there was nothing but forest ahead of them. The canopy rose and fell like an ocean current, with some lines of trees towering high above others, making Reimer believe that this wasn’t the only drop-off in the area.
“There’s a clearing to the north,” Dunn said.
“A clearing?” Reimer took the binoculars and took a look. “That’s gotta be the lake.”
The two marines moved north along the cliff edge. Luckily for them, the slope seemed to increase as they went, giving them a higher vantage point. Dunn took the binoculars back and resumed looking over the area. He could see the water and some shore areas. The lake was flat and discolored, appearing as dead as everything surrounding it. It was easy to imagine that it was once a beautiful vacation spot with plenty of fishing that took place. Now, after everything they’d been through, he didn’t even want to speculate what might be under that water.
“Could that be it?” he asked. He held the binoculars in place as he stepped aside for Reimer to look. A large structure towered over the trees across the lake. It was mechanical, almost resembled the Eiffel Tower from this distance.
“No, that’s a radio tower,” Reimer said. “Probably used by the park ranger station.”
“Damn, I was hoping that was it,” Dunn said. He took the glasses back and looked around. “Hang on a sec, didn’t Cable say something about the bunker being three-quarters of a mile or so from a cove along the southside?”
“I believe so,” Reimer said.
“Well, voila,” Dunn said. He pointed out, seeing a small space between a group of trees. “That has to be the cove, which would put the bunker somewhere over…” he pointed his finger to the southeast… “there.”
“Alright, then,” Reimer checked the magazine of his Accuracy International, then slammed it back in place, “let’s submit our report.”
CHAPTER 15
The journey from the cliff to the bunker took over another hour. As Reimer had predicted, the landscape was rife with cliffs and rolling hills. Adding to their troubles were more wandering groups of undead. It was imperative for the team to not engage unless necessary, not only because of the low visibility and high numbers of ghouls, but also to preserve their limited ammo.
The area grew even darker as they came along a vast grouping of trees towering up to one-hundred-eighty feet. Dunn cursed the presence of these damned trees, as they were the reason they couldn’t make their landing here, close to the bunker. But then again, would they have made it anyway? He thought about the bird attack and wondered if it would’ve happened here as well. The thought of the possibility began to stress him out further, provoking a worry that rescue might get caught in a similar ambush.
Though not in a bog, the trees did contain some type of outer growth similar to what they’d seen before. This time, the vines were dry. Disgusting little flowers bloomed along the stem, sporting dark yellow petals. Whatever they were, the team knew better to keep away from them.
The team moved down a hill, the ground full of numerous bumps and rock beds. The fog swirled around them like angry spirits guarding their domain. Keegan took the lead, holding up a closed fist to instruct the others to huddle down. He moved over the patch of rocks and army crawled to a small boulder that rested ten yards from the base of the hill. Pushing himself to a crouch, he took his binoculars and observed the small open area ahead.
Between the rows of trees and swirling fog was the bunker. The exterior was small, roughly the size of a trailer. A medium-sized radio antenna reached high into the sky, bent downward at the middle. He couldn’t see the entrance from his position. What he could see were the corpses that roved around it. They seemed to be marching in circles, possibly following the drift that carried the fog. He carefully panned his glasses over the whole clearing, counting at least five undead. Five ghouls, five shots.
Keegan glanced back and pointed at Reimer, waving him over. With the rifle in his arms, the Corporal army crawled to Keegan’s location. The Staff Sergeant reached out, silently instructing him to hand over the rifle. Reimer passed it over to him and spotted with his binoculars.
“We got five,” Keegan whispered. “They’re mine.”
Reimer laid belly down on the opposite side of the boulder. Resting on his elbows, he watched the activity through the glasses.
“Got an ugly leaving the group,” he said. Keegan panned left, seeing a tall ghoul starting to wander into the trees. In seconds, it would be too far into the brush for a clean shot. He followed it with his crosshairs, placing the point directly on the back of its head.
A squeeze of the trigger sent a .308 caliber round through its cranium. Reimer watched its body fall forward into the brush, its feet sticking out into the mud.
“One down.” He watched as two other ghouls turned toward the sound generated by its fall. “We got one in a suit and tie and one with a cowboy hat. Looks like they’ll be moving toward the body. They’ll be wandering into the woods…”
Keegan fired a round at the fancy-dressed ghoul, taking the top of its head off. Its lower jaws flapped down to its neck, its tongue swinging about as it fell. Keegan aimed at the cowboy, following its path with the crosshairs. He grinned in satisfaction as he watched the next round explode its head into a spray of gooey matter.
He panned down and placed his sights on the fourth walker. It was looking in their direction, though it couldn’t see them. Keegan placed the crosshair over its left eye. The eye socket expanded into a gaping hole. The fifth and final ghoul started lumbering toward its body, providing a convenient shot for Keegan. He fired the last bullet. Decayed flesh ripped from its jawline, splattering over its slain brethren.
“A little low,” Reimer said.
“Eh, I was just letting off a little steam,” Keegan said. Reimer looked through the glasses again. The head rolled completely off its shoulders. With no neurological system to control it, the body slumped to the ground next to its severed head. The Staff Sergeant handed the rifle back to Reimer, then gripped his AK-9. He waved to the others to follow him as he descended down the remainder of the hill.
The team formed a perimeter around the bunker as they secured the area. Though the immediate area was void of walkers, the soldiers could hear the spontaneous growling of wandering ghouls deep in the woods. However, it did not appear that they were aware of the soldiers’ presence.
Keegan knew, however, that that luck could change on a dime. He moved around to the front of the bunker.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered. The steel door had been caved in, as though hit with a battering ram. The door was detached, its center crumpled as it laid several feet into the mouth of the structure.
“What the hell could’ve done that?” Dunn asked.
“No idea,” Keegan admitted.
“This forest has no shortage of weird shit going on, doesn’t it?” Bolden said. Gordon stepped over to Reimer and Dunn.
“Back at the house, didn’t you guys say something punched through the roof?” Reimer inhaled, his mind replaying the strange and terrifying events.
“Yes.”
“At first it didn’t make sense. But now…” Gordon looked back at the bunker. “Considering everything we’ve seen, it seems par for the course.”
“Yeah, but that was wooden beams and roof tile,” Dunn said. “This bunker is designed to withstand a blast.”
“Perhaps we have a clue!” Bolden said. He pointed to another body laying in the mud. It was a male, lying face-down with his back torn open. The blood was fresh, forming red puddles around the body. “Looks like someone else was here.”
“Who is it?” Dunn said.
“Looks like a local,” Bolden said. “No gunshot wounds to the head. Whatever went down here, it happened recently.”
“You think that guy broke down the door?” Dunn sa
id. “He’d need a tank! Don’t know about you, but I don’t see any treads. I mean, just look at the ground! There’s noth—” Dunn’s words came to a complete stop as he gazed down at a strange indentation in the mud. The ground was covered in tracks, many of which were made by the undead. This one, however, stood out. The foot had the general shape of a human’s except it was at least fifteen inches long. The toes appeared to be elongated, almost like reptile claws. Reimer and Bolden gathered over it with him.
“You okay, Marine?”
“The hell is that?” Dunn said.
“Probably a bear,” Bolden said.
“Never seen no bear make a track like that,” Dunn said.
“Alright, pull yourselves together,” Keegan said. “Dunn, Bolden, Gordon, maintain a perimeter. Warn us if anything comes our way. Reimer and Bell, you’re with me. We’re checking inside. Let’s do this fast.”
As he spoke, the brush between two trees began to rustle. They heard the clunking of teeth as a short-framed ghoul stepped from the tree line. It staggered two steps into the mud then stopped to look at them. Recognizing food, it raised its arms and extended its jaw to snarl. Its breath barely passed between its teeth as Gordon lunged in and plunged a knife through the roof of its mouth. He twisted it, driving the tip through the top of its head. As he quietly lowered the dead ghoul to the ground, the team listened for any others. The forest was filled with many growls, most of them far back.
“Let’s do this and be out of here before any more show up,” Keegan remarked. He hugged the inner wall as he took the first steps inside. Bell and Reimer followed him into the front room. The bunker had an electric elevator dead ahead and a staircase to the left. Dried blood had coated the doorway and inner walls. A stale smell filled the air, mixing with the stench of the undead. It almost appeared that everything in this bunker was composed of rusty steel. There wasn’t much equipment up on the ground level. More importantly, there wasn’t any VIP.
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