Apex Predator (21 page)

She looked up at him, tears streaking down her cheeks.  He could tell she still wasn’t able to react rationally.  God damn it!  He reached down with his left hand and pulled her to her feet by her shirt.  Their eyes met from inches away.  He could see the blank stare in her eye.  He grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder.  Turning on his heels, he began running away from the sound of the feeding zombies.

Jen heard Mike and the girl slide down the concrete, and the rifle skitter across the concrete.  She looked back and then down into the fog.  Nothing!  Mike, oh God, please no!  She pleaded with The Almighty for his safety.  She knew she had to be quiet.  She wanted so badly to call out to him.  Instead, she listened.  She could plainly hear the zombies feeding. 

Could she hear anything else?  What was that?  It sounded like a grunt.  Was it Mike?  Was he hurt?  She didn’t hear a scream or gunshot.  Please let that mean that he’s still ok.  The rest of the group stood at the top of the little rise next to her.  Theresa put her arm around Jen.  No, not yet.  I’m not ready for him to go.  He’s still alive.

They heard the sound of grunting and shoes slipping to their right, away from the direction they had come.  SSgt Brown and Jackson raised their rifles in unison.

“Hurry the fuck up,” a whisper.

“Mike,” Jen whispered back.

“Yeah, help me out here would you?”

They two soldiers moved in the direction of the sound.  Mike was dragging the young red headed girl up the slope by her shirt.  She didn’t appear to be helping much.  They reached out and took her by the arms, helping her and Mike to the top of the embankment.

Jen ran over to Mike, throwing her arms around him.  Mike hugged her back.

“What happened?” asked SSgt Brown.

“She froze,” replied Mike.  “We hit the bottom, and she wouldn’t move.”  He threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the still crying young girl.  “We’re lucky those things are feeding.”

Wilcox walked over to the girl.  “Hey,” he whispered a little too loudly.  “Are you ok?”

She just stared at him with a blank stare.  She was in shock.  The aviation trooper drew back his hand and slapped her hard.  The girl dropped to her knees, crying.  The rest of the group turned in shock as she fell to the ground crying.  Wilcox’s hands balled into fists.

“Get the fuck up,” he demanded as he loomed over the crying girl.  Jackson was the first to react.  He grabbed Wilcox by the collar, throwing him to the wet grass.

SSgt Brown stepped between the two troopers.  “Stand down Jackson,” he ordered.  “Wilcox,” he barked as he stood over the Specialist.  “You get the fuck up.”  When the trooper was on his feet, he leaned his face next to Wilcox’s ear.  “If you ever do that again, I’ll fucking kill you myself,” he whispered.

Jen helped the young girl to her feet.  Kerry was still sobbing, but was now responding.  “Are you ok, sweetheart?”

“Oh God,” replied the girl.  “Simon.  He’s dead.”  She sobbed harder.

“I know baby,” she replied.  “Were you guys real close?”

“Simon?  No.  He had a crush, but no.  He…  He was just all I had.”

“I know sweetheart,” replied the nurse.  “We all have to rely on strangers now.”  Jen could see the girl was starting to come around.  She held the girl close, and let her cry for a few moments.

Jackson had stepped a few meters away from the group.  Fuck that mother fucker!  Hitting that little girl like that.  It escaped the young trooper that that young girl was about his age.  As he paced, he began to hear it:  The sound of shuffling feet coming from the west.  Shit!

“Ssshhh!” he hissed.  The rest of the group immediately stopped talking.  He could now hear the sound of dozens of feet.  Fuck, thought the young trooper.  He quietly crept back to the group.

“’bout a dozen coming from up the road,” he reported to his NCO.

“Let’s move folks,” SSgt Brown ordered.  “Jackson, get us the hell out of here.  Go south along the highway until this damned fog clears.”  To the rest of the group: “Fall in behind Jackson.  Mike and Mr. White bring up the rear.”

Jackson slid back down the grassy slope.  When he hit the concrete, he began moving south at a fast walk pace.  Shit, I can’t see a thing.  We keep up this pace; we’re going to run into something.  I wish this fog would clear.  He slowed down to a normal walking pace.  Looking over his shoulder, he could see Theresa and Wilcox.  The rest of the group was hidden in the fog.  Damn he wished they would tighten up a bit.

The group continued south on the interstate for a few miles.  Crossing under another overpass, they could hear a large number of zombies.  Jackson slowed again.  The fog was beginning to thin out.  He could now see the entire group when he looked over his shoulder.  He estimated that he could see about 100 meters.  He’d like more, but at least they wouldn’t get surprised by anything.

Mike kept looking over his shoulder as they walked.  He knew the area they were in.  It was actually only a few miles from his old home as the crow flies.  He thought about the day his world changed.   He could still see Andy’s face as he was surprised by the first zombie.  He thought about Theresa’s parents and poor Davy falling from the roof.  He felt a heaviness envelope him, a sadness borne from the death of so many he knew and cared about.

About a half mile south of the last overpass, Willie was sure he could smell something burning; that acrid smell of plastic and rubber burning.  Damned, he wished the fog would lift.  He was sure that he would be able to see the smoke rising from some fire or fires.

Mr. White’s feet hurt.  They were reminding him that he was not a young man anymore.  He thought about the bike he had abandoned.  Damn shame he thought.  Hope that kid remembers the old and infirm of the group.  He glanced over his shoulder.  Mike was about ten yards behind him.  He couldn’t see any zombies following them.  Thank God for small favors.

Jackson led the group to the I-220 I-20 interchange.  He stopped before climbing the big overpass.  He looked to SSgt Brown.  “You wanna go up, or just cross country to ’20?”

SSgt Brown thought about it for a minute.  Up would provide some security and visibility.  But, if they ran into bad guys, it would limit their routes of escape.  He could just see them having to jump the 30 feet to the ground if they got caught.

“You, Theresa and Mike head up there and see what you can see.  The rest of us will stay here.”

“Roger boss,” the trooper replied.  “C’mon you guys.  Stay close.”

The three walked at a quick pace up the overpass.  They could all smell the acrid smoke now.  Jackson had a feeling he knew what he was going to see.  As they approached the apex, he could see several thin columns of smoke to the east of their location.

Jackson stopped at the apex.  He couldn’t believe his eyes.  There, below and all around them on the east-west running highway was a column of military vehicles.  Most were still on the highway, some were on the shoulder or in the median.  Several were on fire.  He could see six or seven that had been overturned.  There didn’t appear to be any soldiers manning the vehicles.

“Holy shit,” whispered Mike as he looked over the concrete abutment.

Jackson counted about 60 vehicles stopped in the eastbound lanes.  Most were HMMWV, also known as humvees, and LMTV’s, 2 ton trucks with flat noses.  There were two HMMWV’s and three LMTV’s in a wreck about 300 meters east at the head of the column.  Two HMMWV’s were tipped over in the median a few hundred meters east of the overpass.

And there were bodies, lots and lots of bodies.  Most of the bodies were in civilian clothes.  But, some were in army and air force uniforms.  Thankfully, none were moving.  He looked at Mike and Theresa.

“What do you think guys?”

“I think it’s gonna be a long walk,” replied Mike.  “If nothing else we may be able to grab a vehicle or two.”

“Ok, let’s get back to the group,” Jackson ordered.   The trio trotted back down the concrete hill.

“What’ve we got?” asked SSgt Brown.

“Looks like Custer’s last stand down there boss,” replied the young trooper.  “There are about 60 vehicles in the eastbound lane and median, maybe 40 drivable.  No troops, but a shit load of bodies, both military and civilian.”

“Anything moving?” asked the NCO.

“No, looks like the survivors bugged out.  No zombies either.”

“They must have followed the survivors,” offered Wilcox.  The thought of following a hoard of zombies, who were following a group of survivors, seemed a bit ironic to the big NCO.  Damn!

“Ok guys, what do you think?” he asked the group.  “We go west, we know Shreveport moans.  We go east and there’s probably a pretty large group of bad guys.  South gets us…” he looked at Mike.

“I think south of here is still part of Barksdale.”

“Barksdale,” the NCO finished.  “And, we know what’s north.”

“Seems like a no brainer to me,” Mr. White spoke first.  “We know there are a bunch of bad guys north, south, and west of here.  We’re getting awfully close to getting boxed in.  Unless we can figure out a way to go up, east is the only way out.”

“Ok, sounds good to me,” replied the NCO.  “Anyone disagree?”  They all shook their heads no.  “Jackson, take us down there.  Everyone stay on your toes.”

The young trooper led the group of survivors across the field.  Theresa and Jen were right behind him, followed closely by Maria, SPC Wilcox, SSgt Brown, Kerry, Mr. White and Mike.  He couldn’t fight the feeling of dread he felt as they approached the scene of the massacre.  The smell of smoke was mixed with a new smell, the smell of dead bodies.  That sweet sickening smell that Jackson knew would stick to his clothes for days to come.

He began stepping over bodies about 50 meters from the closest truck.  These were obviously zombies.  Their flesh was in varying states of decomposition.  He could see that all had holes in their heads.  Some were small, like bullet holes, others were actually missing parts of their heads.  He marveled at how close the enemy had gotten to the convoy before they were engaged by the soldiers.  No wonder they got waxed.  Zed was on them before they could mount a proper defense.

He could imagine how the fight went.  He could almost feel the panic the Screaming Eagles must have felt as they were overrun by the undead.  It was the same panic he felt when his unit was overrun.  “Sergeant Brown did you guys hear any helicopters yesterday?” asked the young Private.

“Now that you think about it, no,” replied the NCO.

“Strange, an air mobile unit wouldn’t have birds in the air when they tried a breakout attempt isn’t it?”

“Maybe they lost too many pilots,” Mike interjected.

“Or maybe they weren’t planning on stopping for a while,” added Mr. White.  “Choppers don’t do any good if they run out of gas.  Could be that their next stop was outside the range of the birds.”

“Shit.  It could be anything,” SSgt Brown replied.  “Sure would be nice to have a nice loud Blackhawk right about now wouldn’t it?”

The bodies they were stepping over were now a mixture of military and civilian.  Theresa thought about the Air Force uniform she was wearing.  She wondered if the former owner had made it.  She looked at the mass of bodies.  There must be a couple of hundred bodies lying around.

Jackson approached the closest vehicle.  It was a humvee with a .50 cal machine gun on top.  Spent brass from the weapon was scattered around the vehicle.  He looked inside.  There was a rucksack in the back seat, but no people.  He pulled the driver’s door open and stuck his head inside.  There was a rucksack and a box of MRE’s between the rear seats.  He walked around the vehicle.  There were other rucksacks strapped to the roof, and two 5 gallon gas cans strapped to the rear.  Kicking some of the brass around, “looks like whoever was in this one put up a hell of a fight before bugging out.”

“Let’s not stick around here too long, this place gives me the willies,” announced SSgt Brown.  He looked at Mr. White, who had started chuckling.  “Sorry Willie.”

“No worries,” replied the big black man.  “It gives me the willies too.”

“Everybody ground your rucksacks here.  Find us a couple of working vehicles, and some gas.  Stay in buddy teams.  There are lots of places for surprises around here.”

They split up and began looking for vehicles that could easily be moved.  Willie and Maria, SSgt Brown and Kerry, Jackson and Theresa, Jen and Mike let SPC Wilcox tag along with them.  SSgt Brown moved east, along the road.  The vehicles were packed close together here; some had obviously crashed into each other.

He had never seen so much carnage.  The bodies were literally stacked like cord wood.  He thought of the accounts he’d read of the Korean War.  The Americans at the Chosin reservoir used dead and frozen Chinese soldiers as a substitute for sandbags.  A shudder crawled up his spine.

He began to realize that the bodies closest to the convoy were mostly military.  He was beginning to get a feel for what may have happened.  He could imagine the convoy stopping for something, maybe an accident or a breakdown.  Then the troops dismounted to pull security or maybe to clear the road.  Great idea if the enemy is shooting RPG’s at you, not so good if safety is only a locked door away.

It looked to SSgt Brown that the zombies came from across the road from the north.  He wasn’t sure how they got so close.  Maybe the troops were firing on full auto and not making head shots.  Maybe they were busy shooting forward.  Oh well, that may remain a mystery.