Even Zombie Killers Can Die zk-3 Page 5

  “I told you to knock that shit off, Twerp.”

  “Yeah, Brit, lay off her.” Red flushed, but he stood up and squared off with Brit.

  “Wait. Oh my God. Red, Lady Brianne, OH MY GOD I’MSOHAPPYFORYOU!” He took a swing at her and Brit ran away, laughing. “I’m going to give you a step stool as a wedding gift!”

  “I’m going to kill her” said Hart, but she was blushing, too.

  Right then, everything went to shit. Like it always does. We had gotten so wrapped up in the details of dealing with the Vermonters that we had forgotten about what the real war was, fighting zombies. We were reminded in a harsh way.

  It was a small horde, about thirty or so. Nothing we couldn’t have handled on a good day, but today was not a good day. McCross was on guard, but he was distracted by the conversation between Brit and Hart. The first zombie latched onto his leg as he stepped around a wrecked minivan, looking back towards us. It shouldn’t have happened. McCross was an experienced scout, had been on dozens of missions, and there was no reason for him to die, but he did. So did Captain Buswarry, trying to come to his rescue, charging directly into the horde.

  It was a mad house, and we wound up getting away by running full tilt in the opposite direction while the Zs scrabbled around McCross and Buswarry. They tore them apart, eating their intestines while they were alive, trying to rip open their heads to get at the brains. We didn’t even have time to kill them ourselves. Red had to drag Hart away, and she screamed as her friends died horribly.

  “RALLY AT THE END OF THE BRIDGE!” I yelled as we crossed over a set of train tracks being held out of the water by a causeway, maybe five feet off the water. I reached the end and spun, firing into the horde as fast as I could aim, barely missing the others as they ran past me. Red, who had been carrying the 240B while McCross walked point, flopped down beside me, extended the bipod legs and yelled, “FEED ME!” Brit crashed down beside him and started passing linked ammo into the gun. It started barking in short, controlled sweeps, arching through head height about fifty meters away, blowing holes through the zombies, catching some in their heads, knocking others down by severing limbs.

  Ahmed kneeled beside them, emptying the magazine of the Dragonov, one aimed round per second. Two out of three dropped zombies with head shots, a regular, steady rhythm. Once I had caught my breath and the red dot on my site stopped jumping around, I started to add to the carnage. In the end, it came down to one last Z falling onto the water, shot through the head by Hart with her pistol. We were left with the smell of cordite and rotting flesh.

  It was over in less than two minutes, but it should have never happened in the first place. I stood over what remained of McCross and Buswarry, the latter crawling towards me with that red glare in his eyes, one arm dragging slowly in an effort to get at living flesh and eat. The sight of him made me want to scream and vomit at the same time. I reached over my shoulder, drew my mace, and smashed his head in.

  We got back to the boat, secured the area, and I sat down looking over the water. My hands were shaking, and I held them between my legs to make them stop. Brit sat down next to me and watched me for a second.

  “Brit, I don’t know that I can do this anymore.” I held up my hand to show her. She grabbed it and squeezed it hard, let go.

  “Nick, you can quit. Anytime. I love Doc and, well, I sortta like Ziv, but I am NOT going to lose you.”

  I knew what she meant. An American general in World War II supposed that a man only had so much courage to draw from, a limited reservoir. I wondered if I was reaching mine. Even before more than two years of zombie warfare I had pulled three combat tours overseas. I had killed my wife after she was bitten by a zombie and had eaten our daughter. My leg, severed below the knee.

  “Brit, I’m not going to let the guys down. We HAVE to go get them. I swear to you, though, that this is it. I’m done. I’m not leaving the farm again.”

  She nodded, looking off into the distance with her good eye. “Well, no, Nick. There is one more thing we are going to have to do.”

  “Kill Doctor Morano.”

  “Kill Doctor Morano.” I looked over where Hart was crying while Red stood watch over her, one hand on her shoulder, watching the woods for more zombies. “But I’m not going to lose any more people. Swear to God.”

  “Nick, Baby, you can’t control that. This is war. People die. Our friends, families, buddies. They die. I might die. You might. Meanwhile, we have got to LIVE. Snap out of it, Fearless Leader.” She reached over and caressed my cheek gently, then slapped me hard on the inside of my leg. It stung like hell, and I got her message.

  “OK, let’s saddle up!” We piled our rucksacks into the bottom of the zodiac, started the motor and headed out across the lake. Across the water, the Green Mountains of Vermont looked down on us; just another war party, like a thousand others they watched impassively in the last three hundred years.

  Chapter 16

  “So how do we do this?” asked Red.

  “We go in flag flying. We’re the US Army, and I’m betting they won’t shoot at us if we’re representing the Army.”

  Red shook his head. “I think your reasoning is wrong, Nick. I think if you go in there flag flying, some of these rednecks are going to shoot at you just because they think you’re a jack-booted federal gubbermint thug who is gonna take their guns.”

  “Seriously? Why would I do that? Take their guns after surviving the Zombie Apocalypse?”

  “There ain’t no explaining crazy, Nick.”

  Brit was trailing her hand in the wake of the boat, but she watched Hart, who was sitting up in the bow. I knew she was watching to see if she was going to break. Ahmed steered the boat, keeping the throttle low. We were in no rush to get there, and there were some small waves we hopped over. I just sat back and enjoyed being out on the lake, a chance to let my guard down a bit.

  Red was right. Any way we played it, we were outsiders who were going to upset whatever power balance existed on the island. In my experience dealing with survivors, they tended to resent us showing up. Anger that the federal government had failed them in the Zombie Apocalypse, or just a tendency to resent authority anyway. This was the first time, though, that we had dealt with such a large group, and one that had somewhat legitimate authority.

  We heard them long before we saw them. A long causeway extended from the mainland to the island, probably part of an old railway. I had been this way before, on a fishing trip, and I knew there was a break in the causeway that you could run your boat through. Well, there used to be a break. Now there was a bridge, and just before that, a large wall extending thirty feet up in the air, completely blocking the road.

  Trailing off southward down the causeway were zombies. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Seemingly as one, they turned to the sound of our motor. All howling in symphony, but staying away from the water. Ahmed cut the engine and we drifted slowly about a hundred feet off shore.

  “Holy crap,” said Ahmed. “That must be every single zombie in the Burlington area.”

  “Ya think? Frigging rocket scientist, this one.”

  Hart scanned the barrier and the bridge behind it with a pair of binoculars. I saw her stop and then lean forward, trying to get a better look.

  “Ahmed, can you bring us around the back side of the barrier?” she asked.

  “Paddles, everyone. No need to get them any more worked up than they are already.” We broke out the oars and started pulling around.

  “Yep, I thought so.” Hart handed me the binos.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Look at the base of the barrier. There are charges set around the whole thing. Looks like construction demolitions, the kind used to take down derelict buildings.”

  “Are they set to blow the bridge?”

  “Nope, if they go, they’ll take down the barrier only.”

  Brit couldn’t resist. “And how do you know all this, Lady Brianne?”

  “Because, Miss Wiseass, whil
e you were getting stoned and laid in college, I was defusing IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

  For once, Brit was speechless. Hart went back to studying the barrier.

  She put the binos down. “I can’t figure it. Blowing the charges would eliminate the barrier completely. I can see if the wired the bridge, but the barrier…”

  “It’s a threat,” said Ahmed. “The General is holding this over his people’s heads. Maybe not overtly, but if push came to shove, he could always use the threat of these zombies to justify martial law. If you look closely, you will find a radio receiver hooked to a detonator. His military forces probably have a fortress that can resist even the whole horde, with high walls. In the event of revolt by the civilians, they hole up, blow the barrier, and the civilians are done. Probably have an escape route too. Boats, most likely.”

  I nodded. “So much for the job of the military being to protect and defend civilians.”

  Hart turned to me. “Do you want me to disable it?”

  “Can you do it without setting it off, one hundred percent guaranteed?”

  She thought about it for a minute, studying it again with the binos. Finally she answered with a flat “no”.

  “Odds are, it’s rigged. Not to blow, but there are probably anti-personnel mines all over the place.”

  “OK, well, that settles that. Let’s get away from here and go talk to the mad man.”

  Chapter 17

  “OK, Ahmed, you’re out. Red, you’re his spotter. Lay low and watch for my signal. This could go bad pretty quick.” We slowed the boat, and they slipped over the side into the water, weapons and packs balanced on two inflated inner tubes.

  We had left them on the empty, northern part of the causeway. Hopefully the watchers on the shore hadn’t noticed us slow down. It left them no avenue of retreat, which I wasn’t comfortable with, but they both took inflatable life vests so they could take to the water if necessary.

  “If we’re not back in twenty-four hours, then Hart will come get you with the boat. Do hourly radio checks with Liberty Main, and call in the hammer if things go bad. Level that.” I pointed to a building which crouched on the shore, surrounded by Texas barriers, ten foot high slabs of concrete. From it flew the Vermont state flag, and underneath that flew the yellow Gasden “Don’t Tread On Me” flag. Through the binoculars I had counted three guards standing on a platform inside the wall.

  “Time to poke the dragon,” said Brit, and she, Hart and I headed out in the Zodiac, towards a dock that stretched out into the water. The half mile passed quickly, and as we pulled up, we could see a reception committee waiting for us. A half dozen soldiers, backed by a .50 caliber heavy machine gun. Hart kept her MK-19, mounted on a pintle in the boat, trained on the machine gun crew. They tracked us all the way in until we pulled up to the dock. I climbed up the ladder onto the dock, and Brit backed the boat away, idling about a hundred meters off shore.

  I stepped forward and saluted the two star Major General standing in front of me. He was a short, compact man, wearing full battle rattle, and he had an intense, blue-eyed stare. He glared at me for a moment, and then quickly returned my salute, seemingly out of habit more than anything. Behind him, four bodies hung from a makeshift gibbet, swaying gently in the breeze. No quick deaths, those. Instead of dropping them and breaking their necks, a quick death, these scumbags had pulled them up, leaving them up to strangle. I tried hard to hide the look of disgust on my face, but the man standing in front of me saw it. His expression hardened.

  “Sergeant. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and for men with hearts of iron.”

  “Save me the speech, General. Next you’re going to say you’re a sheepdog, guarding the flock from wolves.”

  We stood that way for what seemed like an eternity and was probably no more than fifteen seconds. Behind him stood a man wearing full Colonel rank, and two guys from what I figured were his brute squad. They were both over six feet and muscle-bound. I ignored them and looked at Danny Westbrook, who brought up the rear. He nodded to me.

  The General broke the silence.

  “Staff Sergeant Westbrook here tells me that you are with the Regular Army, some kind of scout team. I’d like to see some credentials, please. And a copy of your orders.”

  Seriously? Orders? What planet was this guy living on?

  “Ah, General, the only thing I can show you is my old ID card. In case you haven’t noticed, things have been a bit squirrely over the last few years. I have no written orders. In fact, I’m just here to get my men. I understand they have been your guests over the last few weeks.”

  “Um, guests, no, not actually. They are prisoners, on trial for murdering several of my men.” He waved his hand, and Ziv and Doc were escorted out of the gate of the fortress. Actually, Ziv walked out under his own power, in handcuffs, but Doc was dragged out by two men and dumped at my feet. The guards went back inside the gate, and I knelt down to him.

  “Hey, Nick,” Doc managed to whisper. “You’re late.” His face was a mass of bruises, and there were cigarette burns on his arms. No fingernails on his right hand. “I never said shit.”

  I looked up at the General. “Am I supposed to be impressed? I’ve seen worse in Afghanistan. What, exactly, is your point?”

  “My point is, Sergeant, that I am the law here. This is the Sovereign State of Vermont, and we are no longer a part of the United States. If there even is such a thing, which I doubt.”

  This wasn’t going to work. I had seen it before, leaders who let power go to their heads. Little warlords who wanted to set up their own little kingdoms. I despised them. Still, I had to try.

  “General, let me explain something to you. Right now the US Army is fighting a massive brawl down by New York City. Last year we retook Denver. Next year we will be taking back Northern California. We seized the oil fields in Mexico. It may take a year, or two, or even three years, but the Feds will be here. You are sitting on top of a vital transit route and shipping line, once we get the canals back in order. Oh, and in case you hadn’t noticed, we settled the whole secession thing more than a century ago.”

  He stared at me, glaring, then walked past me, looking out at the lake. The Colonel, who I assumed was his Chief of Staff, walked over to him and talked to him quietly. After a minute, I broke into their conversation.

  “General, regardless, you and all of your troops were recalled to Active Duty three years ago. I know you have radios and you heard the broadcast. Right now, you and all your men are in a state of rebellion against the United States. I can’t hold your men responsible, because, for all I know, they think they are acting under legitimate orders, but you, as their commander, are liable. I’m giving you one chance. Stand down, turn over control of the island to the civilian population, and things can go back to normal. I won’t say anything about what happened before we made contact. This is a fight that you cannot win.”

  He turned to me. The Colonel put his hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

  “My men know full well what they are doing.You have a lot of balls, Sergeant, I’ll give you that. It’s going to need an extra strong rope to hang you. We fought, all by ourselves, and survived. Where the hell were you and your precious federal government? No, we don’t need you. As far as those civilians you’re whining about, they’re a bunch of useless sheep who got us into this mess in the first place.”

  He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, the time for those things have passed. The US was rotting a long time before the Zombie Apocalypse, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let myself be ruled by a bunch of Liberal retards. You’re just another one of those New Army touchy-feely punks, coming here with a bunch of women to back you up. In fact, it will feel GOOD to hang you. Your friends, too.”

  “Then, Sir, I have no option but to place you under arrest for rebellion, treason, and murder. You’ll be coming with us, back to Albany.” I placed my hand on the stock of my rifle, but I kept my eyes on Danny, wondering
which way he was going to jump.

  Danny stepped forward. “Sir, it’s time to let it go. Turn it over. What you did, hanging those civilians, was wrong. Nick is giving you an option. Please take it, before things get worse.”

  “Sergeant Westbrook, your opinion is noted. Corporal, please arrest him, and Sergeant Agostine, also.”

  One of the brute squad reached out to grab Danny, and all hell broke loose. Time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time.

  Danny leveled his M-4 and pointed it at the Corporal. “Stand down!” he yelled.

  The Colonel pulled out his pistol and fired at Danny, catching him in the neck in a spray of blood.

  Danny spun around and fired a full auto burst toward him, emptying his magazine before he fell, and rounds tore through the General’s legs, hurling him down to the ground.

  The first guard brought his pistol up to fire at me, and his head exploded in a pink mist from a sniper round fired by Ahmed.

  Ziv hit the other guard on the side of his face with his handcuffs and then started wrestling with him, trying to choke him, slamming his head against the ground and cursing at him in harsh Serbian.

  The .50 caliber started hammering, but Hart was faster on the trigger, and a string of 40mm grenade rounds slammed into the sandbagged position, chewing through the bags and striking the gun, silencing it.

  Brit slammed the boat into high gear towards the dock.

  As he fired, the Colonel grabbed a Motorola two-way on his harness and hit the transmit button. A muffled BOOM rolled over the water. I shot him through the head and he fell to the ground.

  Doc rolled over and kicked the guard struggling with Ziv in the head, stunning him.

  Ahmed took out the remaining three guards in as many seconds with sniper fire.

  I ran over to Danny, pulling a field bandage off my kit and pressing it to his neck. Blood was everywhere. He had been hit in an artery and was bleeding out quickly. I pressed my hand over the wound, but it kept squirting out. Not again. Just like that kid on the barge.