Savages, page 12
part #5 of Surviving the Dead Series
I tried to roll over, but the hand pulled and sent me back down to my stomach. My heel bumped against something, and I kicked out instinctively. The grip did not slacken, but for an instant, the pulling stopped. The hesitation gave me the time I needed to roll over.
The crawler was old. Its skin was dry and cracked, clothes worn away long ago, the flesh on its face tight and hollow. In a flash of thought, I realized I was looking at a ghoul in the process of turning into a gray. I also realized I had approximately half a second before it tried to bite me again.
My pistol was almost underneath me. I clawed at it, but could not turn to my left enough to free it from its holster. If I planted my right foot and strained, the ghoul would have a clear shot at my ankle. As I thought this, the crawler recovered and tugged at me again. So again, I kicked it in the face.
I gave up on the pistol and reached for my fighting knife. As it cleared its sheath, a size thirteen boot stomped on the crawler’s head, pinning it to the ground. The hand holding my ankle released and tried to grab the leg holding it down, but could not reach.
I scrambled away and got to my feet. “Just a second,” I said.
I screwed the suppressor onto my pistol and took aim. “Okay, on three. One, two, …”
As I said ‘three’, Sergeant Seth McGee stepped back and circled out of the line of fire. I fired twice, both rounds punching neat little holes in the crawler’s forehead. Black and red ichor oozed from exit wounds on the back of the skull.
“Thanks,” I said.
I looked at McGee, who had not been voluntold to come with me, but had volunteered. He was tall, maybe six-four, and very lean. Dark hair, full beard, and eyes even grayer than Gabe’s. His nose had been broken once or twice, and a scar ran under his hairline from his ear all the way to his forehead.
“No problem,” McGee said. It was the most he had talked since we left the others.
I’d had my doubts about McGee at first. At his height, and with his build, I estimated him at close to two-hundred thirty pounds. I wondered if he would be able to keep pace with me, being that I am four inches shorter and over forty pounds lighter. I need not have worried. He had broken a sweat during the run, but did not look overly winded. And he had had no trouble keeping up. In fact, I think he could have outdistanced me if he had wanted to.
I was vigilant the rest of the way back. There were a few more crawlers, but someone had already busted their skulls. To my left, I heard a grunt of effort and a wet crunching sound. I headed toward it and saw Hicks’ head and shoulders rise above the grass.
“Where is everybody?” I called to him.
He held up a finger, keyed his radio and said, “See any others?”
A few seconds passed, then Hicks said, “Roger. Yes. They look fine.” He looked at me and said, “Either of you bit?”
“Nope. I’m good. McGee?”
The tall soldier shook his head.
Hicks said, “Yeah, they’re all right. We’re heading in. Out.”
I looked toward the processing facility and saw Great Hawk scanning the field with Gabe’s thermal scope. He moved slowly and patiently, like he did everything else, and finally nodded in satisfaction. The three of us arrived just as he lowered his legs over the edge of the roof and dropped lightly to the ground. He motioned to us, and we followed him inside.
Most of the plant’s processing equipment was still in place. A layer of light gray dust covered everything so thickly our boots left prints on the floor. It was obvious by the condition of the machines that someone had come through a long time ago and stripped the building of anything useful. I did a mental calculation of the dimensions, and figured the space at fifty meters in length, twenty wide, and perhaps twelve feet from floor to ceiling. Pitched roof overhead, exposed wiring, pipes, and steel support beams, cinder block walls painted white, cement floor polished smooth. Empty offices at the far end of the building.
Anderson’s men had covered the windows with blankets and black tarps. The windows were rectangular and set high, almost six feet off the ground, which was good. I pulled a blanket back, looked up, and saw the glass was the kind reinforced with wire. Even better. If a ghoul, by some miracle, somehow managed to climb high enough to pound on the glass—and I had never seen a ghoul climb anything more challenging than a car—it would have a hell of a time getting through. Same for a living human. And the noise would give us ample time to mount an appropriate response.
All in all, not a bad place to spend the night. In fact, with a few friends and plenty of ammo, a person could clear the field, buy some seed, and make a home out of this place. But no one had, and I knew for certain people had found this place before us—the stripped machinery was clear evidence of that. So why did they leave?
Easy answer? Marauders.
Better have a talk with Great Hawk.
SIXTEEN
“I agree,” Great Hawk said. “And I have already taken precautions.”
As usual, the Hawk had seen the same things I saw and drew the same conclusions. I was not sure if this spoke well for me or poorly for him. “So what’s the plan?”
“What would you do?”
“Strict noise and light discipline. Four men per watch rotation, two-hour rotations. NVGs and suppressed rifles all around. Two men on patrol, one on overwatch, and a watch captain here in the building. Check-in at five-minute intervals, but otherwise, radio silence. Anybody misses a check-in, the watch captain wakes everyone up and we go on full alert.”
Great Hawk nodded twice. “Two hour rotations?”
“Yes. You want to make sure the guys on watch are sharp. The longer people walk around in boredom, the duller they get. Shorter watches makes for fewer mistakes. We have twelve guys, which makes three watch rotations. Doesn’t give us a lot of down time, but we knew that would happen going in. Just have to push through and hope we get another chance to rest.”
One corner of Great Hawk’s mouth creased upward. “You are a cautious one, Irishman.”
“Kept me alive so far.”
“That is true. But I think you are too used to dealing with civilian guardsmen. These men are trained professionals, like me. However, your thinking is sound. The watches will be three hours, but everything else will be as you say.”
“Three hours is taking a risk,” I said. “People tend to get sloppy after two.”
“We need to rest. Tomorrow will be no easier than today, and we have farther to travel.”
“Rest won’t do us a damn bit of good if we’re dead.”
“I have made my decision, Eric. I ask you to trust me. I know what I am doing.”
I turned to walk away. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
*****
I awoke to someone kicking me in the feet. Hard. I looked up and saw Bjornson standing over me.
“Wake up, dipshit. You’re on watch.”
I uncovered myself, stood up, and looked Bjornson in the eye. “That is the last time you ever touch me, cupcake. Next time, I hurt you.”
“Hurt me? The fuck you gonna do that, little man?”
“Kick me again and you’ll find out.”
“Whatever, pussy.”
He turned and walked away. I followed silently in my stocking feet, timing his stride. When the moment was right, I reached up, clamped a hand over his mouth, and kicked his feet out from underneath him.
He landed with all my weight on him. In the brief moment he was stunned, I grabbed an arm, applied a wristlock, and used my thigh as a fulcrum to lock his arm out at the elbow. A little pressure one way, and I could break his wrist. A little pressure another way, and his elbow would snap ninety degrees in the wrong direction. He started to struggle, so I put pressure on both wrist and elbow and pinned his head to the ground with a knee.
“See how easy that was, cupcake?” I casually slid my pistol from its holster and applied the barrel to his temple. He drew a breath to yell, so I put more pressure on the wrist and elbow. The shout died with a squeak.
“Now, now,” I said. “No need to go waking up the others. You’re necessary to the mission, for the moment, so I’m not going to hurt you too bad.” I holstered the pistol. “But just between the two of us, this mission is not only important to the Union, it’s important to me. I have my reasons for this. And if you do anything, anything at all, to endanger this mission with your high-school, egotistical, testosterone-fueled bullshit, I will kill you. I want you to understand that very clearly. Your life is not important to me. But there are people I care about back home, and I am not going to endanger them by allowing you to be a fuck-up. Do you understand?”
“Fuck you.”
I sighed. “Some people just have to do things the hard way.” I began to apply more pressure to the wrist, but stopped when I felt a very large hand on my shoulder.
“Eric, that’s enough.”
The voice sounded like its owner gargled kerosene and razor blades every morning. I only knew one man who sounded like that.
“Didn’t know we were on watch together, Gabe.”
“That’s because you didn’t check the watch bill.”
“No, I didn’t. Probably should from now on.”
The hand released my shoulder. “Let him up, Eric.”
I did. Bjornson rose slowly. Even in the dark I could see his face was a light shade of purple. He eyed Gabe, looked back to me, and said, “This isn’t over, you little shit.”
“You don’t learn very fast, do you?”
“Your friend won’t always be around to protect you. We’ll settle up soon enough.”
“Gabe, are you protecting me right now?”
“You don’t need my protection. Especially not from this clown. But I can’t let you two fight in here. Too much noise.”
To Bjornson, Gabe said, “You can go now.”
The big young soldier looked at Gabe, then back at me. His eyes were hot with anger, but he did as he was told. I walked back to my bedroll, bundled it up, lashed it to my pack, and put on my boots. Two minutes later, I was ready to go on watch.
“You made an enemy tonight,” Gabe said in a low voice as we walked toward the exit.
“No. He did.”
“What did he do?”
“Woke me up by kicking the hell out of my feet. Fucking hurt.”
Gabe shook his head. “Rule number one. Never underestimate anyone.”
“Evidently no one ever explained that to Bjornson.”
“Oh, I’m sure someone did. He just didn’t listen.”
“I might have to remind him.”
Gabe unlocked the door at the northern end of the building and we walked into the cool night air. I looked up at a pristine cloudless sky, a nearly full moon shining brightly upon the clearing. The long, glistening grass danced contentedly amid a gentle breeze. By noon, the morning sun would burn off the heavy dew, and the afternoon would be humid as a wet blanket.
“You really think that’s going to help the mission?” Gabe said.
“Actually, I do. Stomping a mud hole in Bjornson’s chest might teach him a little humility. Make him feel a little less invulnerable, less apt to do something rash and stupid.”
“And you don’t think training to be a Green Beret did that?”
“Not nearly enough, as demonstrated by his attitude. A real professional would never have antagonized me for no reason. You may have noticed he’s the only guy on the task force I’ve had trouble with.”
“Maybe he was testing you. Maybe he’s following orders.”
“You don’t believe that, Gabe.”
He let out a breath and adjusted his tactical sling. “No. I wish I did.”
“I don’t care if he’s mad. He wants to settle things man to man, he knows where to find me.”
“I think you scared him, Eric. Surprised him. I think you should avoid turning your back on him. He may attempt to respond in kind.”
I smiled in the darkness. “Better men have tried, you among them. I doubt he has more sneak on him than you do.”
“That was training. I wasn’t really trying to kill you.”
“But shy of killing me, you weren’t holding back, were you?”
“No.”
“And I stopped you. Consistently. Even got the drop on you a few times.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m not worried.”
“Either way, Eric, he’s not going to forget. And he’s not going to let it go.”
“Good. I hope he tries to do something about it. Maybe then we can put this little junior-high feud behind us and focus on the mission.”
“Speaking of …”
Gabe handed me his NVG/IR goggles. I accepted the eighty-five thousand pre-Outbreak dollars’ worth of high-tech optics and asked, “What’s the occasion?”
“Maybe I’m expecting trouble.”
“You’re always expecting trouble.”
I activated the goggles. The world turned from shades of silver and black to high-definition gray and white. Unlike NVGs, the IR setting on Gabe’s goggles did not hinder depth perception. The image was crisp and clear, allowing me to see farther than with my NVGs. Anything living showed up bright white against the darker ambience of colder objects. I could make out details of trees, grass, bushes, and a few nocturnal rodents searching for seeds along the treeline.
Gabe had obtained the goggles and his IR scope the night he and Great Hawk set out to rescue me from the Free Legion. My deceased friend, Captain Steve McCray, issued them personally. After Steve died, no one asked Gabe to return the equipment. So he didn’t.
Gabe put on a pair of standard NVGs and activated the IR scope on his rifle. Like me, he carried a 6.8 SPC suppressor-equipped sniper carbine. Between the two of us, we were toting enough trade to set a man up very comfortably in Colorado Springs, along with several of his closest friends.
“Who’s on overwatch?” I asked.
“Hicks. Great Hawk’s our watch captain.”
“The civilian quartet. I wonder what Anderson thinks of that. He’s suspicious of us.”
“I don’t give a damn what Anderson thinks. Not as long as he does his job.”
“He seems all right to me.”
“Probably is. Doesn’t mean I have to care about his opinion.”
“You seem touchy tonight, Gabe.”
His NVGs pointed in my direction. “Touchy? Didn’t you just twist Bjornson up like a pretzel?”
“He earned it. You’re being grumpy toward people who haven’t wronged you.”
The green circles of light were steady a few seconds, then looked away. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“You miss Elizabeth.”
A grunt.
“But that’s not all of it.”
Gabe flipped up his NVGs and peered through the IR scope. His rifle swept the length of the field to our right, finger over the trigger, feet braced to absorb recoil. Maybe he really was expecting trouble. When he finished, he looked at me and scratched his beard.
“I’m forty-one, and I’m not getting any younger.”
I did my best Danny Glover Lethal Weapon impression. “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”
“That was terrible. Anyway, Elizabeth is thirty-nine. And she has no interest in having children.”
I nodded in understanding. “And that’s what broke up your first marriage.”
“Among other things. And what do you mean, first marriage? It was my only marriage.”
“So you and Liz …”
“No. We haven’t said the words.”
The words. Hardly anyone has weddings anymore. Too loud. Too time consuming. Eats up too many resources. Not that weddings are unheard of, they still happen, but they are rare. Most people just sit down and have a talk. I love you, and I want us to be married. Okay. I love you too, and I want to be your wife. Or husband. Or whatever. And from then on, two become one.
I remembered when Allison and I took that step. I was recovering from a gunshot wound and had just seen Gabriel off as he left town to find and kill a man named Tanner. Little did Gabe know, I had planted a tracking device in his pack and hired people to follow him. But again, that is another story.
As Gabe left, he told me to take good care of my wife. I said Allison and I were not married. He smirked and asked me if I was sure.
It hit me like a hammer to the forehead.
I stumbled home in a daze. When I lurched through the front door, I was sweating, and tired, and the recently-healed .380 caliber orifice in my calf muscle was aching something terrible. I sat down on the couch, propped my injured leg on the coffee table, and listened to Allison making noise in the kitchen. After a short while, she joined me in the living room, handed me a glass of water, and asked about Gabe. I turned my head and stared.
“What?” Allison asked, pushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead.
The sunlight through the window lit her eyes and set the honey-colored irises ablaze. I saw my whole life in those amber depths. I saw who, and where, I wanted to be. I said, “I love you, Allison. More than anything in the world.”
She smiled. “I love you too, knucklehead.”
“I want to be your husband. I don’t want anyone other than you. Ever.”
The smile faded. The eyes went from amber to dark copper as she sat up, suddenly serious. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes.”
Silence. No movement for an endless stretch of time that was only a few seconds. My heart beat so loud in my ears I wondered if the neighbors could hear it.
“Then say it.”
“Will you marry me, Allison?”
“Get down on one knee and try again.”
I sat up, pulled my throbbing leg down from the table, and had to bite down on a white hot flash of agony. There was not enough room to kneel, so I started pushing the table back. Allison caught my hands and laughed at me.
“I wasn’t serious, dummy. Lay back before you pop your stitches.”
