Apocalypse Aftermath (18 page)

“DJ?” Mad asked.

“Just wait.” Darryl commanded.

“But—”

“We ain’t got enough ammo to just go throwing it around.”

“How close you gonna let them fuckers get?” Needles complained.

Darryl had been considering that.  He, personally, felt comfortable shooting from thirty-five or forty feet away.  But he’d been shooting at the range for years, and had a lot of practice.  The rest of the Dogz, not so much, except Shooter.  As another rifle round shattered a zombie skull out beyond the fence, Darryl was pretty sure Shooter was awake and up there putting 30-06 bullets to good use.  But the rest of the Dogz were amateurs.

“Just wait.”

“DJ . . .”

“DJ know what he doing.” Bobo’s voice boomed from behind them.  Darryl didn’t bother to turn, but he was relieved the Top Dog was up and about.  “Y’all need better targets.  Just hold up.”

Darryl watched the zombies stagger through thirty feet, then raised his Glock and finally looked through the sights.  The three glowing dots – two back near the hammer and one on the end of the barrel – lined up on a woman with long black hair whose face looked like it had been run over a cheese grater, or
more probably dragged along asphalt.  The skin on one cheek, from temple to chin, was rough with deep scrapes and crusted with dried blood.  He considered how his sights were holding on her as he watched her approach.

The further away a target was, the less movement was needed to adjust aim.  Which meant any movement made more of a difference in where the aim point was.  His sights were wavering a little as she bobbed and staggered toward the fence, and he made himself keep waiting.  Closer also gave a bigger target as well, at least visually.  Every bit would help.  Up to a point.

She finally got to twenty feet, and he decided that was as good as it was going to get.  The Glock barked in his hands as he squeezed the trigger back.  His bullet entered her face just below her nose, and she crumpled amid a glinting shower of bone that caught the moonlight as the back of her skull shattered.  Darryl adjusted his sights as the Dogz to either side of him opened up as well.  Most of the pistols were firing fairly steadily, but a few were dumping bullets at the zombies a little faster than he knew was possible if they were being aimed.

He ignored that as he centered his sight dots on another zombie.  It went down as someone else shot it, so he shifted again, to an older man who had a trucker’s tan line across his forehead.  The cap that would have caused the gradation in his skin from being habitually perched on his head was gone, but that didn’t matter anymore.  Darryl put his second bullet through the man’s face, then a third into a younger man who looked like he’d been in maybe his early twenties before he ‘died’.  The bullet killed him for good.

Darryl pulled his gaze back from the sights and glanced over the entire horde.  Maybe a third were down, and others showed obvious bullet wounds.  None were bleeding, at most just a thick oozing that was definitely not what a bullet was supposed to do when it hit a body.  Zombies didn’t bleed, not unless they were ‘fresh’.  The news had said that several times, but Darryl hadn’t really had an opportunity to observe it until now.

On one hand, it was a little helpful; it lowered the gore factor.  On the other . . . it was disturbing in the extreme when a bullet went into someone’s chest, made a hole that exposed bones and organs, and the ‘person’ just kept coming for you.  Without even having the decency to bleed or act like it hurt.

Shaking his head, he rushed his next shot, then settled back down and killed another pair before he heard the first shotgun go off.  He glanced left and saw Smoke had stepped close to the fence with his shotgun up and leveled at the zombies.  There were still about thirty on their feet, and they were getting close.  Smoke was working the slide as Darryl glanced at him, and the shotgun blasted out another load of pellets into the zombies.  One fell over backward, but it was still moving as it went down.  Not dead yet.

Other Dogz were thinking the same thing, and pistols were being holstered or dropped in favor of shotguns.  Darryl shot another zombie, then another, as more shotguns started firing.  He scowled as he saw the first zombie make it to the fence and press against it, straining to reach past the heavy wooden boards spanning the posts.  Those posts were sunk into several feet of concrete, but Darryl wasn’t prepared to bet his life on them if enough zombies had time to push on them.

Door Mat, a small and scrawny Dog who took a lot of shit from his brothers for it, darted up and put the barrel of the shotgun in his hands almost right up against the zombie’s head.  Darryl winced as the blast took the zombie’s head clean off in an impressive spray of bone and brains.  The pellets ripped the creature’s skull free from the neck, but left enough of it intact to be quite disgusting as it arced away from the collapsing body.  Door Mat skipped back as he struggled with the unfamiliar weapon, trying to get another shell ready to fire.  Two more zombies were already moving into place where the one had fallen.

Darryl shot a corpse that was waving its arms over the top of the fence at Evil, who was standing a foot out of reach and still fumbling to switch to his own shotgun.  Reminding himself to stay calm, to trust the fence was going to give enough time to
stay
calm, Darryl tracked right and took out another zombie.  Most of the Dogz had shotguns in their hands now, and the noise was getting quite loud as the long guns started sweeping the fence.

Not just sweeping along the fence though.  Some of the sprays
of pellet were splintering through the wood.  The Dogz had used thick two by twelve boards for the fence sections, but close range shotguns were enough to start weakening the boards.  Not all the bikers were being as careful with their aim as they perhaps could have been, and the top boards of several sections were starting to take a pounding.

There was nothing for it.  About a dozen zombies remained, and with all the shotgun fire there was little chance Darryl, Bobo, or anyone else could try and advise caution.  Weasel lost his shotgun when he got close enough for the zombie he was trying to kill to knock it from his hands.  The biker scampered away as Crown took the zombie out from a few feet to the side of the retreating Weasel.  Darryl plugged another couple himself, and a mass of shotgun shells finally finished the rest off.

The firing tapered off, leaving his ears ringing.  Darryl looked from end to end along the northern fence line, then stepped closer and peered cautiously over it.  A number of bodies lay on the grass outside, with more scattered around in the field beyond.  Perversely, he still saw two moving.  He aimed and fired at both, lingering long enough to make sure all motion had ceased when their heads had been pierced by a nine millimeter bullet, then panned across the entire collection of carnage a second time to check again.

“That all of them?” 2C asked, talking loudly.

Darryl knew how he felt.  His ears felt like he’d been mashed up against the speakers at a concert, and even yelling, 2C’s voice sounded a little hollow.  He heard some of the Dogz answering, a mixture of swearing and cautious agreement that the zombies were all dead, while a few others whooped and cheered at the destruction.

“We gotta do something else about the fence.” Bobo said.  Darryl turned to see the Dogz leader had come up behind him.

“What about it?”

“Find a way to keep them fuckers from getting in that close against it.” Bobo said, gesturing at the splintered boards along the top.  There were some holes, and one section had split entirely through and was sagging from the nails holding it to the posts with its middle fully separated.

“Dunno what.” Darryl shrugged.  “Moat?”

Bobo grinned.  “I was thinking punji sticks maybe, but a moat ain’t a bad idea neither.”

“Bobo, I was fucking kidding.”

“I ain’t.  It a good idea.”

“How the fuck we gonna dig a moat?” Darryl asked as he stepped away from the fence and ejected the extended magazine from his pistol.  “Even with them augers we used on the fence posts, you talking about days of shovel work to put a damn moat in.”  He considered the clay that made up most of Georgia’s soil and scowled.  “Fucking weeks more like.”

“There ways.  I’ll talk to you about it in the morning.”

Darryl shook his head as he raised his head and waved at the guards up on the clubhouse roof.  One of them waved back and gave a thumbs up.  Nodding tiredly, Darryl leaned down to pick the shotgun up from where it lay on the grass.  One more thing to worry about, but not tonight.  He needed more sleep.

Especially if they were going to dig a damned moat.
  He really hoped Bobo was kidding.

“This is you, 303.” Austin said, using the key to unlock a door on the left.  “Nice and close to the stairs.” he added, tossing his head at the stairwell door that was on the opposite side of the hallway.

“That’ll come in handy I suppose.” Jessica replied as he swung the room door open.  “I mean, unless we’re counting on the power staying up?”

“I’m not.” Austin shrugged, though his tone was on the slightly positive side of neutral.  He stepped through the door and stood aside holding it open.  Jessica hesitated briefly, and he smiled.  “Honest, every inch of this building has been checked since we arrived.  It’s clear.”

“We have to be careful.” Candice said solemnly.

“That’s right.  Good girl.” Jessica said, squeezing the girl’s shoulder lightly before limping past Austin.  The lights were already on, and she blinked when she made it past the short entry hallway at the door.  “My God, this is . . . just for us?”

“You don’t think someone with my skills came cheap do you?” Austin laughed as she took in the room.  “And trust me, rich clients like to be pampered.  For the ones who wanted to take a look at the kind of protection they’d be receiving if they signed a contract, Eagle made sure they were comfortable.”

“I’ll say.” she said wonderingly.  She had been told it was a suite, and they hadn’t been kidding when they called it that.  The room was large and comfortable, with expensive furniture and fittings artfully and expertly arranged throughout the space.  There wasn’t a kitchen, but there was an off-set wet
bar on the front wall with a handsome wood finish.

“This is bigger than my–” she started, then cut herself off.  The house in Lawrenceville brought up bad memories. 
“Not yet.”
she told herself silently. 
“Not opening that box up quite yet.”
  Instead she just shook her head again.  “Very plush.”

“You’ve got the main room here, a coat closet at the door, and then there’s a big bedroom with the bathroom attached.” Austin said as he let the door swing closed on its weighted hinge
s.  “TVs in both, game systems, satellite service, in-house connections to a stocked media server, wired network at four different desks and tables, and Wi-Fi coverage everywhere.  At least, as long as the power holds out.”

“Game systems?” Jessica asked curiously.
  She had nothing against games herself, but somehow she couldn’t see someone wealthy enough to afford Eagle protection being interested in kicking back with a video game controller in hand.  A drink and a movie, sure.  A game though?

He shrugged.  “A lot of rich clients have families; it’s usually why they’re looking for top grade security personnel.  It’s pretty common for their whole family to come down here and make a weekend of it while the parents are wined and dined.”

“Game systems?” Candice almost demanded, looking at the large flat panel television hanging on the wall facing the largest couch.

“While it works, you got it girlie-girl.”  Austin confirmed.

“Candice, don’t get too excited.” Jessica admonished gently.  “Austin’s right about the power; it’s going to go out at some point.  When it does, the games and TV won’t work.

“I know.” the girl said, but she still eyed the glass front cases beneath the
television that showed three game consoles and neatly racked discs next to each.  “I’m too tired right now anyway.”

“You want this in the bedroom?” Austin asked,
hefting the suitcase questioningly as he crossed over to the other door; excepting the glass fronted doors that opened out onto a balcony, and what she guessed was the closet he’d mentioned.  Jessica had already noted the glass, but they were on the third floor, and the balcony was railed.  She wasn’t going to fuss over that until someone showed her zombies could fly.

“Uh, please.” she said as Austin opened the door.  She limped after him almost automatically, curious to see how the bedroom matched up to the main room.  He disappeared through the door and she had another ‘wow’ moment when she made it in after him.

The bed was enormous, and immaculately made with an expensive looking comforter.  Some printed promotional material bearing the Eagle name and logo was laid across it to catch the eye.  Dressers and chests were positioned to be handy in several places, along with two desks for the busy guest who might stay here.  Just as with everything else in the building, everything screamed ‘money’.

“I don’t know what to say.” she said after several moments of examination.

“Take a look at the bathroom.” Austin grinned as he laid her suitcase of donated hand-me-downs on the chest at the foot of the bed.  “Us mere employees down on the second floor are sharing two group ones, but up on the third floor it’s luxurious privacy all the way.”