Zombie Fallout 19, page 2
“Let’s go, everyone grab some more ammo.” I was adjusting the water straps on my shoulders. I could tell it was going to scrape my skin raw way before we got to our destination. I was going to make my squad drink a lot. and often. “Kirby, Reed, give your canteens to Tommy.” Tommy and Grimm weren’t going to have the luxury of being able to refill.
“Umm, Grimm is passed out.” Gary was looking down at the man.
Once we had distributed everything, I bid Tommy good luck, put Kirby in the lead, and we headed out. BT was still pissed and promised Kirby that if he slowed down, he was going to run him over. Kirby kept looking over his shoulder to make sure that didn’t happen.
Over the comms came: “There’s a store called Market Square, looks like a small Costco. I’ve scoped it out, looks empty, that’s where we’ll be waiting.”
“Okay. Thanks, Tommy.” I was gritting my teeth with every step; the friggen bladder straps were beginning to feel like rough grit sandpaper against my skin, soon it would be like razor blades.
We were maybe halfway there when BT tapped my shoulder to call a halt. I could barely make out his features due to them being submerged under a half-inch of perspiration. It was draining from his head so quickly it looked like a prop on a comedy show.
“Alright, let’s take a breather everyone.” The words were no sooner out of my mouth when we came to a sluggish stop. We were in the heart of the city now, a blend of modern buildings interspersed with parts that didn’t look much better than a shanty town, though those appeared to be much older and slowly becoming extinct as the place had begun to prosper. Of course, all that was now a dream that would never be realized. Kirby had been doing his best to keep us in the shadows, but at a temperature of a hundred and fourteen, that’s like handing a person dying of thirst a cracker. Gee, thanks.
It was a waste of time I wasn’t sure we could afford, but I took the bladder off, sighing with relief as I did so.
“Full canteen, everyone. Take your time, hold it down.” It would have been great if I could have heeded my own advice. That relatively cool liquid hit my stomach, and it was like a Mentos being dropped into a diet soda. I was able to duck my head into a broken shop window, but because I hid the act didn’t mean it went unnoticed.
“Great. Like I can afford a bit more dehydration.” I stepped back from the window, wiped my mouth, then gave it another go, this one a bit more reserved.
“You should be more careful,” Gary said. This coming from the puke king of Boston three years running, back in the early aughts.
Spent twenty solid minutes on that street, fifteen more than I cared for. Jogging was not going to work. The heat was far too oppressive. Yes, everyone here was arguably in the best shape of their lives, but there are still limits. What good would it be making it there if we couldn’t get back?
“Dallas, you’re point. We’ll be walking.”
“Thank god,” Kirby muttered as he pushed himself up.
What was also nice was that with the slowed pace, the bladder wasn’t trying to shred my shoulder meat like pulled pork, and bonus, the squad was drinking more with the subdued jaunt. We were about a mile out from our goal when that bonus became a concern. If we didn’t find a water source, we were going to run dry long before we got back. There had been a subtle shift in our training in regard to fluid hydration from the higher-ups. I’d always had rationing of water as the standard operating procedure, but someone somewhere had decided that wasn’t the best practice. Rather, you should drink the water you need when you need it, to keep you functioning at your optimal level. It made sense because once dehydration began its insidious course, you were plagued with mind-numbing headaches, body-wide fatigue and a fogged brain that could not make wise decisions.
At the current pace of consumption, I figured we’d run out somewhere around the halfway point on the return. That was two or three miles without water. If I felt that it was going to be too large of a problem to overcome, we would have to lay low until nightfall when the temperatures were likely to dip down all the way to 105—oh the sweet relief. (I would love to be able to express sarcasm by the shape of my writing. Anyway, I hope it came through clear enough.)
Besides the heat, Grimm’s flu, and leaving Tommy behind while bringing his gear forward, all was going as well as could be expected. The treacherous thought no sooner flitting around my brain plate when Dallas spoke. I don’t understand the power of jinxing oneself, but it’s real.
“Movement, apartment building to the left, rooftop. Saw something, cannot identify.” I was impressed by her calmness. She’d proven herself worthy in combat and was only getting better.
I put up my fist to halt the rest of the column. “Pull back,” I told her, not wanting to expose her or any of us to unnecessary risk. She slowly withdrew as she scanned the area.
Stenzel had her rifle braced against a utility pole attempting to spot what Dallas had. Anything or anybody we came across had to be treated as a hostile.
“Orders, sir?”
I knew what she was asking, wanting to know if she had the green light should our unexpected voyeurs reveal themselves. People were just as dangerous as any monster, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be responsible for killing some poor person, potentially scavenging for their family. That being said, Eastman had expressed how important this mission was, and that it must succeed at all costs. In his eyes, the dispatching of an innocent civilian due to an abundance of caution would be well within parameters. Sure, why not. Wasn’t like he had to sleep with that nightmare.
“Kill on sight,” I told her.
“Mike?” BT questioned.
“Disregard that last, Stenzel.” She gave an audible sigh at my change.
I’d killed more humans since the zombie apocalypse had started than I cared to count. I was convinced then, as I was now, that each of them was necessary and that I fought for Right, while they had firmly placed their feet on the side of Wrong. It needed to be that black and white, and even then it was taking its toll. If we started making questionable kills, I’d never be able to trust my judgment again. Sleep was already a labor, didn’t need to make it an endeavor too.
Waited another minute for any sign of anything. I didn’t like the idea of passing the three-story apartment building; plenty of places for an enemy to shoot down at us, and by the time we found effective cover, we would take losses. No, the best thing we could do was avoid a conflict altogether.
“Okay, people, we’re going to pull back to a cross street and continue on to the road next to us.”
Stenzel was watching our back as we pulled out. The next series of events happened so fast they were simultaneous. I had turned slightly to let Stenzel know it was okay to follow, I heard a shot ring out and the sting of a bullet as it tore a groove into my back, and at the same time my nerve endings were beginning to process a pain response, another shot, this from Stenzel.
“Target down!”
“Mike!” BT bellowed.
I was having a difficult time believing I housed so much blood and that it could spill so fast. The entirety of my lower half was drenched, and, surprisingly, it was cool. Figured it was relative compared to the heat index and the moment I started to enjoy the fatal chill, I realized that it wasn’t shock, it was the remainder of our water. The bladder had taken a lethal hit. I had a scrape that stung like a bitch, but unless I rubbed up against some Ebola, I was likely to be fine.
Stenzel and the rest of the squad were scanning for more threats; was it a lone gunman, or was it like the hidden friends of Lee Harvey? Depending on which conspiracies you believe in, I suppose. We now all had our rifles up scanning for threats.
“You okay?” Stenzel asked as I came up next to her. She did not take her eyes away from her scope.
“Definitely had worse. Where was the shooter?”
“Third floor, second from the right.”
“The one with the blinds?”
“Yes. I’m sorry it took me so long to pick him up. You could have been killed.”
“Stenzel, if it was anybody but you standing there, I would have been.” The blinds were of the slatted variety and made from a dark material or wood; a rifle barrel would have been close to invisible. “So, thank you for that,” I told her. The next concern on my mind besides the loss of the water, was why had I been targeted. Sure, I knew there were a bunch of people at one time or another wouldn’t have minded if I was fertilizing their lawn, but as far as I knew, none of them hailed from Nigeria. Could be that one email scammer I replied to, telling him that I bet his parents changed the subject when their friends asked about him, but that seemed a stretch.
“Sorry,” BT offered as we moved away from the location. “I shouldn’t have made you rethink your stance.”
“Listen bud, I realize as a military unit I’m supposed to be in absolute charge, but we both know that’s not a good thing. I appreciate most input from my subordinates, or is it underlings? Peons? Minions, perhaps?”
“You just got shot, are you seriously joking right now?” he asked.
“I’m hoping it hides the tremor in my voice. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Agreed.”
As the afternoon wore on, it somehow got hotter. At what point was it going to max out? At two hundred and twelve degrees we would begin to boil on the inside, I didn’t think we were more than ten degrees from that point. We’d moved a mile from the shooter and had not encountered anyone or anything else. A lone person with a weapon was likely a rarity, as was the idea that the exchange of gunfire hadn’t drawn attention from unwanted sources. Something was strange in this strange land.
We were in the midst of a much-needed break. We had finished the last of the water in our canteens and were still a mile-ish from the lab. Odds were the place would have water, and it was something I was banking our lives on. As we headed down Ololongo Road, on our final approach, I thought maybe Eastman had it wrong. This looked like a residential area, and a decent one at that. Certainly not a place that you would drop a bio-engineering lab of any sort.
“We’re here,” Kirby reported. He was on point and staring at a structure that looked like everything else around us, namely, a two-story dwelling commonly referred to as a house.
“Kid is as sharp as a marble,” BT muttered as he advanced to check it out. “Uh, Talbot, you’re going to want to see this.”
“What am I looking at?” The question was aimed more toward myself. It was larger than an ordinary home, but not by much, and looked like a dentist’s office.
“Certainly doesn’t look like something with seven sub-levels,” BT offered.
“I am so sick of military intelligence. Makes Kirby look like Einstein.” I was pissed.
“Was that an insult?” Kirby asked Rose.
“For a such non-descript building, it looks fairly fortified,” Walde was looking over her shoulder as she kept an eye out for any threats behind us.
She was right, I was so busy taking in the entirety of the structure I’d failed to take in those details. The front door, instead of an inviting glass variety, was steel. The windows were small and covered by bars. I moved in closer to take a look.
“These might be bulletproof, looks like the stuff they have in banks.” I’d reached through the bars and tapped it with my fist. Might as well have been knocking on oak.
BT tried the door. “Locked.” He jiggled the handle, not even the slightest rattle. “Should I shoot the lock?”
I had my doubts. If they’d taken that precaution with the glass, it was unlikely the door would succumb to the same force.
“Looks like I’m up.” Rose rubbed her hands together.
“Hold up, boom-boom. Not looking for a volcanic eruption in the heart of the city,” I told her. “Kirby, do a once around, see if there’s an egress.”
“Seriously, Mike?” BT scoffed. “An entry, Kirby. He wants to know if there’s another way in.”
“Why didn’t he just say that then?” Kirby asked. He was back less than a minute later, shaking his head. “Weirdest thing, no doors or windows on either side or the back, just blank wall.”
“Curiouser and curiouser. Okay everyone to the side; I don’t want anyone hit by a ricochet. Top, see what you can do with that lock.”
BT backed up a step, got a good angle, and fired a round directly onto the lock cylinder. There was a high-pitched whine as the bullet traveled to parts unknown and a minor scorch mark on the lock that easily rubbed away.
“What about now?” Rose asked, looking at me expectantly.
I didn’t like having to shoot due to the noise; there was no chance that an earthquake-inducing explosion wasn’t going to bring lookie-loos.
“What about looking for a crowbar, try to pry it open?” I asked.
“There’s not a seam we could fit a bar in.” BT was running his fingers around the door edge.
Rose was ushering BT out of her workspace.
“You need that much?” I asked, eyeing the brick of explosive.
She gave me a look that made Kirby flinch; he appeared on the edge of offering an apology.
“Sorry.” I held up my hands as a way of appeasement.
She had us back up to the other side of the street and behind a house; I took that as a bad sign that anything would still be standing once this was done.
“Fire in the hole.” She depressed the button on her triggering device. Nothing at first, to the point I thought potential misfire. It was difficult to discern what happened next, the air shredding noise of the explosion or the deep rolling movement of the earth beneath our feet. When those sound waves traveled through my body, I got that same queasy belly roll you sometimes get when you are traveling too fast in your car and hit a bump, catching some air. It’s not a completely unwelcome sensation, but not something I would care for continually. No debris rained down upon our heads; I also took that as a bad sign. Either she had completely vaporized our objective, or had done nothing more than let loose an extremely loud party popper.
“Let’s move.” I wanted us out from in the open. When I came around our hiding spot I saw the building still standing, right where it was. Besides a small crater where the steps had been and a dent a ball-peen hammer could have done to the door, all else seemed intact. I looked over at Rose, who didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed.
“Didn’t think I’d see the day Rose would underwhelm,” Reed joked. “Even the handle survived. You might want to think about upgrading your arsenal, maybe stop getting your explosives from China.”
“Squid has jokes.” Rose casually walked up to the door, grabbed the handle and pulled. She took an agile giant step back as the whole thing came crashing down. “The rest of you coming?” she asked as she headed in.
“She’s my fucking hero,” Kirby said aloud; I think he meant it for Grimm, but his friend wasn’t there.
Reed followed next, shaking his head. “My apologies.”
“Sir, got another security door,” Rose said as I came in. The three of us were standing in a small foyer. Another heavy door was directly in front of us. Off to the side stood a guard booth, again with the two-inch thick bank-glass. There was a two-foot by two-foot window that pushed to the side, a receiving port of some kind. “Blow this door, too?”
Sometimes it’s nice when decisions are taken away from you.
“Speeders,” Walde announced. “Dozen that I can see.”
“How much time?” I asked, doing some calculations in my head.
“Thirty-seven seconds.”
I thought that was pretty specific. “In,” I told Rose, pointing to the window. “You follow her,” I told Reed. He didn’t appear overly confident about his ability to make it through the gap. I figured most of us should be fine, save one enormous black man. I had to shove Reed’s ass through.
“Much appreciated,” he replied as he slid to the floor.
“Everyone in the building now!” I ordered as I took a look down the road. The dozen or so had swelled to more than twenty. We were all crammed in the foyer.
There was no way we were all going to be able to make it through that glass partition before we were in the thick of it. Again, I lost sight of the details; it never even dawned on me that Rose could get in then out of the guard cubicle and over to the security door to open it. She banged it against my shoulder.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Come on, come on!” I was waving everybody in. BT was second to last, I immediately followed. The speeders were kind enough to close the door for me—a little too aggressively for my taste, but still, a favor is a favor. Rose threw the locking bars on the top and bottom. Reed had closed and locked the window hatch. He was rubbing at a bump on his forehead from where he’d made contact with the floor. The speeders were packing themselves into that entryway like they were going for a world record. They were pounding on the glass and the door the whole time, I imagined they were in the midst of summoning a bulker or two. I didn’t want to be close enough to see if that plan worked or not.
BT’s voice came through my earpiece. “Talbot, you’re going to want to come to the back of this place.”
Except for the zombie mob pounding on it, the front half looked like any office building might, with three small offices, basic furniture and a conference room that would have struggled to contain the people from the aforementioned offices. The table must have been put together inside the room, because it stretched from wall to wall. The person that wanted to sit on the opposite side would have had to go under or over the table, hardly a professional entrance. It occurred to me that this whole place was staged; none of the offices had any personal effects, no pictures of family, no to-do notes strewn around the desk, no trash in the bin and no coffee mugs expressing how they were the best at something.
When I got back to where BT was, I can’t say it all fell into place, but it made more sense anyway. I went through another steel security door, this one looked like it had been made for a mid-sized bank vault. To my immediate right was another guard room, this one much bigger than the one in front, with twenty monitors on the wall, five across, four down. Back here we had our flashlights on as not much light was filtering through the tiny windows up front, which had been designed more for deception than natural lighting.
