Dead Island: Operation Zulu (21 page)

CHAPTER 64: HORSESHOES AND HANDGRENADES

As dumb luck would have it, Kata’s first grenade hit a deader that was making a run for Brooks' team. The round shot into the middle of its rotting chest with a sickening thunk. The impact caused a mist of putrid body fluids to splatter all over Wu and Newman. The projectile lodged itself inside the flesh eater's shattered rib cage, getting stuck in a mess of broken bones and decaying intestines. The round exploded, showering Brooks' team with bone fragments, black blood, rotting flesh, and ropes of nasty intestine. The second grenade bounced off the tarmac and rolled into the middle of the dazed soldiers. Before the explosive could detonate, Gonzo, who was the closest to the grenade, knew he had to get it away from the others. Mustering all his strength, he gave the grenade a kick worthy of the best youth soccer player, but missed. Slipping on a slick patch of deader juice, he fell backward, tripped over a rope of intestine, and landed directly on top of the projectile. Flat on his back like a turtle, Gonzo tried to roll off the grenade.

"Shit!" he shouted as the round detonated.

The concussion knocked Cord, Wu, and West to the ground as a shower of blood sloshed down on the rest of the team members. Ears ringing, Brooks wiped the medic's blood from her eyes and sent a burst from her mini-14 at the fleeing Kata.

"Bitch!" Brooks shouted as her rounds fell short. She fired another round then glanced over at the presidents, who were helping the others to their feet. Newman grabbed her blood-soaked shoulder and nodded toward Gonzales' remains.

"Poor bastard saved our skins," the big Aussie said, grabbing a deader intestine off his shoulder and tossing it to the ground. He disgustedly wiped off his bloody, gloved hands on his foul pant legs. The tarmac was now starting to fill up with a mix of fast and slow deaders. Gonzo's blood dripping from her cheeks, Brooks just nodded and fired another round in the elusive Russian's direction. "Cap'n?"

"We need to stop that bitch!" Brooks said, ejecting the empty magazine and slapping in a fresh one. "She’s crazy enough to blow up the plane!"

"Now, that would be bad," Newman smirked as he started running after Kata. Brooks was about to follow when she saw two of the Russians pushing what appeared to be two of the scientists in the direction of the plane's aft ramp. The captain also noticed the lead Russian was carrying a biologic case that looked a lot like the one they had recovered from the lab.

She raised her rifle to fire, but the mercenaries were too close to the scientist for a clear shot. Exasperated, she dropped her mini-14 to a loose combat position and shouted to the others.

"Presidents! Cord! On me! Zoe, Wu, get the Pit Bull!"

"On it!" Wu shouted as he quickly tapped West on the shoulder. She’d had her back to him, watching for deaders. She nodded at him and they headed toward the admin building.

***

Still high on his fresh kill of the American sniper, Yuri zigged and zagged through several small groups of the ravenous zombies. The Russian sprinted over to the aft ramp, which was about halfway open. Yuri could see the soldier's body sprawled across the alloy deck, still covered in blankets and netting. He reached the back of the plane and quickly looked around. A big group of the dead had taken notice of him and were quickly stumbling his way. From the nose of the plane, Yuri heard several rifle shots followed by an explosion. The ramp was suspended about eight feet from the ground. The young mercenary grunted as he tossed his rifle and gear up onto the alloy deck. Yuri then made a jump for the ramp. He grabbed the edge and started to pull himself up.

"I made it," he shouted. "Yuri the weak! Ha! Fuck all of them.” He laughed. Suddenly, there was a horrible, stabbing pain in his right hand. He screamed, yanking his hand off the edge of the ramp. Barely holding onto the lip of the deck with his left hand, he noticed his right was torn and bleeding. Uncomprehending, Yuri again reached for the ramp with his injured hand. As he grabbed hold, there was a crushing pain. The Russian screamed as Sanchez ground his boot across Yuri’s fresh cut.

"Punk." Sanchez jammed his tomahawk blade into Yuri’s left hand. "Make sure you kill a fucker before you get all cocky and shit."

"No!" Yuri screamed as he dropped to the tarmac. His knees made a loud crack as he smashed onto the ground. He rolled around on the warm runway, grabbing his damaged knees with his injured and bleeding hands. Whimpering in pain, he unsuccessfully tried to get to his feet as the hungry zombies grew dangerously close.

"Kata," he cried. "Kata! Help me!" Tears and snot running down his face, Yuri rolled on to his stomach and tried to crawl toward the nose of the plane. "Kata!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Only the crowd of ravenous dead eagerly responded to his cries.

"Damn!" Sanchez sat down heavily on the ramp. He picked up Yuri’s AK and laid it across his lap. Below him, Sanchez could hear the Russian's dying cries and the deaders' mad rending and feasting of the unlucky Russian. Rubbing his wounded shoulder, Sanchez closed his eyes, satisfied that the asshole that had killed Gator and shot him was now nothing but deader chow underneath the plane.

CHAPTER 65: FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK THAT

"The NSA denied us use of the satellite," Senator Collingsworth said as Mister Black handed him a heavy glass.

"Is neat okay? My ice machine is broken," Black said.

"Yes," Collingsworth nodded eagerly. "Please."

Black smirked and poured two fingers into the thousand-dollar glass Collingsworth was holding in a trembling hand. Once he was finished, he turned to Senator Kubicek and pointed the bottle neck at the other man’s glass. Kubicek quickly bobbed his head like a chicken and held out his bit of expensive crystal. Black poured the senator another two fingers then returned to the bar. He set the Scotch bottle down and grabbed up his own half-full glass.

"I’m glad you two could make it tonight." Smiling like a shark, he glided over to his big, overstuffed leather chair and gently sat down, placing his glass on a marble table. He sat there, iron straight, and promptly smoothed out the creases in his slacks. "Now tell me." He patted his open palms on his thighs and leaned forward. "Now tell me about our friends at the NSA again."

"Well …" Collingsworth set his glass down on the end table, which cost more than his last divorce, and swallowed. Black was in an unusually good mood, which terrified both men. "I talked to Brock, and he said they couldn’t move it near the island. Something about a terrorist cell they’re tracking in …"

"Brock, that self-important piece of shit!" Black interrupted. "I guess two million doesn’t buy you much these days."

"What about a drone?" Kubicek asked quietly.

"No good." Black took a sip of the Scotch and swirled the rest around in the glass. "That bitch Chapman won’t let me use them for more than the air strike. His company is sticking its neck out as it is. Asking for more would cause them to pull the drones entirely."

"Then we are essentially blind," Collingsworth said, staring down into his overgrown lap.

"Yes." Black took another drink.

"So what do we do?" Kubicek asked as he set the glass down.

"Start over." Black carefully stood up and carried his glass back over to the bar, where he proceeded to pour himself another drink. "The drones will destroy all the evidence, and I will have to start all over again."

"We will?" Collingsworth looked up hopefully.

Black, with his back to the senators, smiled darkly. "There are billions, billions to be made on this deal. More money than has ever been seen in the past ten years. The reward is too big to let go." He turned to face the two senators.

"So what do you need from us?" Kubicek's voice cracked.

"Funny you should ask that." The shark smile grew wide, exposing two rows of bright, white teeth. The Muzak version of "Hungry Like the Wolf" was playing softly in the background.

CHAPTER 66: TELL PUTIN HELLO FOR ME

Newman sprinted across the undead-filled tarmac toward Kata, who was fleeing for the aft of the plane. A fast deader tackled the big Aussie and they hit the ground hard. Grunting as his wide back struck the runway, Newman used his rifle to try and push the slobbering, biting deader off of him. The dead man clawed at Newman’s face and tried to get its damaged mouth around his neck. Fighting for his life, Newman put a gloved hand over the flesh eater's eyes and batted away the undead's tearing hands with his free hand. Putrid, black blood dribbled down onto his chest. He pushed the deader's head back as far as he could. The dead man gurgled and drooled but continued to try and tear at the sergeant. Cursing, Newman pushed the head back as far as he could until he heard a nasty crack. The deader's head went slack in his hand. Teeth still snapped, but the head hung at a weird angle, unable to be much of a threat to anyone. Newman pushed the deader to the side, grabbed his rifle, and then jumped to his feet. The deader, with its head now dangling off its shoulder, was also trying to stand up. The sergeant raised his rifle and ended its suffering. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he then resumed his pursuit of Kata.

***

Kata sprinted under the huge engine and wing of the cargo plane. A zombie was crawling out from under the fuselage and grabbed at her booted feet. The Russian tripped and fell roughly to her knees. Without missing a beat, Kata spun around and swung the barrel of the grenade launcher at the zombie's head. The heavy barrel caught it in the chest and knocked it over on its side. Kata got back on her feet as the zombie rolled back onto its rotten stomach and slowly crawled after her. Near the aft of the plane, she could see a group of zombies on their knees, devouring the remains of what had been her cousin, Yuri. Though she didn’t care for her cousin much, still, he had been blood. She should have been the one to end her cousin's pathetic little life. No one killed a Volcavich without paying in blood. Kata didn’t care if the perpetrator was dead or alive, they would also suffer. The Russian dropped the heavy launcher to the ground with a loud thud. The five zombies making a meal out Yuri looked up at her with dull, lifeless eyes. Seeing fresh meat, they started to stumble to their feet. Kata unslung her AK-74 and angrily shot two of them in the forehead. The zombies’ heads disappeared in a black mist of rancid blood. A third undead woman charged at Kata and fell on its face after tripping on the headless corpses of her dinner partners. The Russian cursed a blue streak of obscenities and smashed in the back of the zombie’s skull with her right foot. Still standing in the dead woman’s head, she could feel the black zombie juice soaking her foot through the bullet hole in her boot. The other two zombies were on their feet now and loping towards Kata. The Russian stepped back and lifted her AK to put them down. As she stepped back with her right foot, she found it still stuck in the zombie’s ruined head.

“Fuck! Fuck you, Yuri!” she growled, still trying to remove her foot from where it was lodged in the back of the zombie’s head. “Fuckers!” She stomped down hard with her right foot, splattering the remains of the zombie head on the tarmac.

***

Newman ran to catch up with the female Russian. As he raised his rifle to fire off a round, a deader grabbed his rifle and jerked it out of his hands. The Aussie turned to confront the flesh eater as it dropped the sergeant's weapon and hungrily leaped at him. He deftly stepped to the side and grabbed the deader's right arm, flipping it to the tarmac. The deader smashed face first into the solid runway, causing its head to explode in a flurry of gray matter and bones. Newman shook his head and glanced around the airfield, which was now thick with deaders.

"Some fuckin' day," he said to himself then realized he was still holding the flesh eater's severed right arm. "Aye, fuck me, mate!" He was about to drop the limb when he heard the rifle pops from the aft of the plane. Newman turned to see the female Russian shooting a group of attacking deaders. The Aussie quickly hurled the deader's arm with all his might at the woman’s head. The heavy arm flew through the air and crashed into the back of the Russian's skull. She groaned and fell forward onto Yuri’s remains.

Dazed, she looked up from the bloody entrails that had belonged to her cousin. Thin ropes of intestines were stuck in her hair, and her face was splashed with blood. The stench of Yuri's exposed bowels was overpowering. Kata sat up on her hands and knees, still dripping blood and bodily fluids. As she wiped the mess from her eyes, she could taste Yuri’s blood in her mouth. She spat it out and, still dazed, looked around, smiling. The mercenary had killed all the bastards that had spilled Volcavich blood. Kata’s smiled disappeared when she felt a sharp pain in her left hand. Looking down, she was surprised to see Yuri’s undead face chewing on her forearm. Repulsed, she pulled her arm back, causing the zombie that was her cousin to rip a big chunk from her arm. Kata screamed in pain, anger, and disbelief as the Yuri thing chewed on his relative's flesh without a care.

"Fuck you, Yuri!" Kata screamed, grabbing her bleeding arm. She tried to get to her feet but found her boot still deep in the other zombie's head. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Just not your day, mate," Newman said from behind.

"Wha—" Kata tried to turn and see who was behind her when she felt the warm barrel in the back of her bruised head. "No!"

"Sorry, mate. Tell Putin hello for me." He pulled the trigger.

***

"Arkady, to the left," Nico shouted as he dragged Doctor Moreno with him across the tarmac toward the rear of the huge cargo plane. The ragtag group made a staggered run for the parked aircraft.

"Americans!" The Russian commander pulled Orlac in front of him as a shield. The disheveled doctor held the biologic case in his sweaty left hand. Arkady tucked the stock of his AK under his arm and fired off a burst at the approaching Americans. Brooks and her team dove for any cover they could find as the two Russians wildly sprayed bullets in their direction while still using the scientists as shields.

"Quit squirming, my love," Nico shouted in Moreno's ear. The scientist screamed every time he fired his rifle. "I would hate to have our little session interrupted by a stray bullet!" Moreno just screamed more, tears running down her face. She jerked involuntarily as Nico squeezed off four more rounds. "I told you," the mercenary said menacingly as he turned her around so she could face him, "quit moving!"

"Fuck you!" Moreno screamed as she’d finally had enough and just snapped. The scientist kneed him in the crotch with all her strength. Nico let out a surprised gasp and released the doctor as he stumbled backward, grabbing for his injured balls. Moreno venomously spat at the Russian then wasted no time in fleeing back toward the buildings.

"Bitch!" Nico croaked, trying to catch his breath. "I’m going to kill you and rape your dead ass!" He steadied himself and fired in the escaping doctor's direction. The rounds all went wide, harmlessly striking a few of the approaching zombies. "I will get you, bitch!" He waved his rifle in frustration. "Arkady …" Nico turned to talk to his commander only to see him making a run with the other scientist for the plane. Bullets started to strike the tarmac next to him. Crouching down, Nico emptied his magazine at the Americans, who were hiding behind the wreckage of a small commuter plane.

"This is bullshit," Nico said, sprinting after Arkady and Orlac. A round from Brooks' mini-14 caught the Russian in the back of the leg, sending him sprawling to the ground. His rifle slid across the tarmac, out of his reach. Nico grabbed at the bloody remains of his left leg and tried to get to his feet before the zombies or the Americans could get to him. Screaming in pain, all Nico could manage to do was some kind of weird crab walk.