Dead Team Alpha: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (19 page)

The twins tear apart a large AC vent that sticks up from the roof. They bend the sheet metal over a few times then wedge it into the very bottom of the stairwell door. Carlotta pulls some cord from her pack and ties it around the door handle as Carlito takes the other end and doubles it through a set of pipes sticking out from th
e wall. The two siblings check each other’s work then nod to Stanford.

The Team all move to the side of the roof and look down at the massive amount of Zs that begin to surround the hospital. They watch as a window is broken and more and more bodies are tossed to the ground, sending the Zs into a feeding frenzy at the edge of the parking lot. Lang and Tommy Bombs gasp when Hawks’s corpse is added to the fodder. Horton starts to say a prayer, but Stanford holds up his hand, stopping her words.

Across the parking lot, from a third floor window, two sightless forms look out into the night, their attention turned due south. After a moment, they withdraw and Stanford lets out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“I have first watch,” he whispers. “Everyone else? Grab some sleep.
Schuemakers? Second. Tommy Bombs and Shep have third. Lang and Horton take last. Ninety minutes each and no more. Do not let your eyes move from that hospital. I want to know if those blind fucks leave.”

“We can’t see the other side,” Carlotta says. “They could sneak out that way.”

“They could,” Stanford agrees. “But did you see the way they were looking? They’re waiting for something else. And I have a feeling we’ll see it when it gets here.”

“How can they be looking anywhere?” Horton asks. “They don’t have fucking eyes!”

“Keep your voice down,” Stanford scolds. “And with these fucks I don’t think eyes matter. They wiped out RC Eight, which is incredible in of itself, but to take out three DTA Mates?” Stanford shakes his head. “There’s new players in Crazytown, y’all. And I don’t intend to assume anything about them from here on out.”

“TL,” Shep says. “Look.”

At the very back of the main hospital building, a door creaks open.

“Carlyle,” Stanford grins.
“That wily son of a bitch.”

The Runner
looks left then right, nods to himself, and takes off running. The team loses sight of him quickly as he turns a corner behind another admin building, but Stanford knows the direction he’s heading.

“He’ll warn the Stronghold about what’s coming,” Stanford says.

“You think the herd is heading that way?” Carlito asks.

“I would bet my rations on it,” Stanford says. “Now everyone get some sleep. I’ll wake you if I need
to.”

***

Hours later, a nudge of a boot brings Stanford awake instantly. Any other morning and he’d be pissed off, but as he gets to his feet and surveys the scene below, he’s grateful that the nightmare he had been gripped in is gone. Unfortunately, the nightmare before him isn’t much better.

“They’ve pretty much thinned out,” Horton says. “All that’s left are the broken ones fighting over bones and scraps.”

“Where’d they go?” Stanford asks as he stretches and watches the sun rising across the Plains to the east. “Up the mountain?”

“Yeah,” Lang says. “Right for the Stronghold. They’re moving slow now that they’ve fed.”

“That’s the whole RC down there,” Shep says, his eyes watching a small pack of stragglers hiss at each other over a femur. “I counted. The whole fucking crew plus Hawks.”

“Fuck,” Stanford says. “Grab gear and let’s go.”

“Where, TL?” Tommy Bombs asks. “We can’t get up the mountain without running into the herd.”

“Yep,” Stanford says
, “which is why we’re moving deeper into Denver. We have a meeting to make at the Bell Tower.”

The Team all stare at him
as if he’s lost his mind, except for Shep who is nodding in agreement.

“TL?” Carlotta says. “This isn’t one of your better plans.
We need to get behind that herd and help when it hits the Stronghold.”

“
Carlyle is the best Runner we have,” Stanford says. “He’s almost to the Stronghold by now. He’ll warn them and they’ll be ready. We have to find DTA. If any are still alive, they’ll be at the Bell Tower. We’ll be a stronger force with them than without.”

“Down,” Shep hisses and the Team instinctively ducks.

They watch over the ledge as several figures come out of the early morning shadows and walk towards the hospital. The Zs see them and start to move closer, but the figures just weave their way through the straggling zombies with ease as if they were avoiding something as innocuous as mud puddles. The side door of the hospital opens, and Skye and Marshall come walking out. Without a word to the newcomers, they all turn and start marching north, following the herd, heading straight for the Stronghold.

“Head count,” Stanford says.

“Thirty-four,” Shep replies, “including the woman and the boy.”

“Concur?” Stanford asks.

He gets agreement from all the other Mates.

“Two of those fucks killed three Mates and an entire RC,” Stanford says. “Anyone else feel uncomfortable
about looking for backup at the Bell Tower?”

No one speaks up or argues.

“Good,” Stanford says. “Then let’s put some hustle in our day. I want to rendezvous with DTA and start back towards the Stronghold ASAP. That means we have a march ahead of us.”

“Yes, sir,” DTB Two all say.

Chapter Seven- Past The Point…

The dawn lights up the red brick of the Bell Tower and Val has to shield her eyes from the brightness, having been subjected to the gloom of the night for so long.

“No pyre,” Cole says. “Just like the last ones.”

“The fucks probably killed the Runner in there too,” Anna Lee snarls. “Murderous fucking fuck fuckers.”

“Lafferty ordered Carlyle not to light the pyre,” Val says.

“Why the hell not?” Cole asks.

“She had her reasons,” Val shrugs. “And a good thing because every pyre from Sector One to here is manned by dead Runners and sen
tries. Probably saved Benji’s life up there by it being dark.”

“Benji…?” Cole wonders aloud. “Oh, the guy Ford took home the other night? Seemed kinda bitchy.”

“He is,” Val says. “But he doesn’t scare easy, which is good. Maybe he was able to hold out and they passed him by.”

“Then why can’t I see him up there?” Anna Lee asks. “Protocol is to keep watch at all times, even if you’re the only one.”

“Good question,” Cole says as the three Mates stand at the edge of the commons. “Let’s find out.”

The trek from the edge of Denver to the Bell Tower had been fairly Z free, but it was slow going as Val, Cole, and Anna Lee had to make sure they weren’t spotted or followed by any of the blind crazies. A three hour march became a five hour duck and dodge journey. By the time they hit the campus of Colorado Heights University, all three of them are spun from exhaustion and nerves.

Th
ey move from tree to tree, keeping as much cover as possible as they continually scan their surroundings, looking for danger hidden in every bush, lurking in every shadow, waiting just ahead behind the next tree. But nothing jumps out at them as they skirt the commons, move around the back of the Bell Tower, and quietly give the knock on the door.

It’s several minutes before the proper response is given and the three Mates all look at each other, wondering what the delay was. They put their M-4s to their shoulders and step back as the door is unbolted, unbarred, and swings open slightly.

“Please tell me there’s an army of you,” Benji says as he looks around the edge of the door and sees the three Mates. “Oh, great, a trio. Close enough, right?”

“Why
weren’t you watching from the Bell Tower?” Anna Lee snaps. “I didn’t see you up there.”

“Look who’s all business,” Benji sneers. “Way to stick with regulations.”

“Let’s get inside and discuss the details upstairs,” Cole says. “I’m done being out in the open.”

They move to the door, spinning about and scanning the area to make sure they aren’t being observed, then slip through as Benji slams it closed and sets all the bolts, bars, and chains.

“I wasn’t where you could see me because it would be like hanging a sign and telling all the crazies I’m open for business,” Benji says. “Even if the fuckers are blind.”

“You know they’re blind?” Val asks as they make their way up the stairs. “You’ve seen them?”

“Yeah, I have,” Benji replies. “A huge herd of Zs came through only minutes after DTA left. I watched it stream by in wave after wave, all heading south towards Sector One. Largest fucking swarm of zombies I’ve ever seen in my life, believe me. As soon as it passed, I was thinking of getting the fuck out of here and running back to the Stronghold.” He holds up a hand before any of the Mates can protest. “Obviously, I didn’t so don’t get all duty this and duty that on my ass.”

“Okay,
you didn’t turn chicken,” Cole grimaces. “Good for you. So why hide from blind people?”

“Because I watched as the
pyres started going out,” Benji says. “One by one, they went dead. I could tell that it wasn’t our people doing it. As you know-” He looks at Anna Lee. “-there’s a timing to extinguishing pyres. One goes out, five count, then the next, five count, then the next, and so on. These just started dying randomly. No rhythm or rhyme to it. That spelled trouble to me.”

“Doesn’t explain the blind people,” Cole says.

“It does, because once the last pyre went out, I saw them,” Benji says. “Sneaking around down there like fucking coyotes. If I had had the pyre lit, I would have missed them, which is probably what killed the others. But I’d been sitting in the dark for hours and my eyes were sharp.”

Benji shivers and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Ugh, they were like reptiles slithering along in the night,” Benji says. “I almost missed them at first, but one moved far enough into the grass that I saw him. Then I spotted the others. They were all just standing there, looking up at me. Fucking creepy.”

“How do you know they were blind?” Cole asks. “No way you could have seen that in the dark.”

“Okay, okay, I got freaked and started to run,” Benji says. “I made it downstairs and decided to scope them from one of the main floor windows. I wanted to see their spacing and get a good count before I threw open the door and took off.”

“At least you
fucking can admit you’re a fucking coward,” Anna Lee says.

“Like you try to admit you’re a human and not a heifer in drag,” Benji says.

“I’ll fucking cut you, you fucking prissy cunt!” Anna Lee snarls.

Val steps in front of her, placing both hands on her shoulders.

“Not worth it,” Val says. “And we’ll need him as a Runner.”

“Oh, I’m just good for my legs, is that it?” Benji asks.

“Shut up and keep talking,” Cole growls. “You aren’t making friends, buddy. And friends are what you’ll need to get your ass back to the Stronghold alive.”

“Fine, fine,” Benji sighs. “So I’m at one of the main windows and all of a fucking
sudden, this crazy looking dude walks by like a foot from the glass. I was too startled to gasp, which probably saved my life, because he almost walks by then stops, his head turning like left and right over and over. Then the fucker looks right at me and I can see even in the dark that his eyes aren’t there. The lids were all sunken in and it looked like the skin around his eyes was puffy and crusty.”

“That’s them,” Val says. “So he didn’t catch you. What next?”

“He stared at me for like five minutes,” Benji says. “And I mean he
stared
at me. No eyes, but he was looking, for sure. I didn’t move and I barely even breathed. After five minutes, he kept going. Soon after, they all left.”

“Which way?” Cole asks.

“North,” Benji says. “They all went north. I could tell they’d been the ones driving the herd south, but they didn’t follow. As soon as the herd was out of sight, they turned around and went north.”

“Shit,” Val says. “So they’ve probably gotten to the hospital by now.”

“Hospital?” Benji asks. “Oh, right, DTB Two. That’s Stanford Lee’s Team, right?”

“It is,” Val says, rolling her eyes. “But let’s not get into that.”

“Good lay, but a shitty host,” Benji says. “No breakfast. Didn’t even offer coffee.”

“Thoughts?
” Cole asks, ignoring Benji. “We have blind crazies going north, probably moving the next herd up towards the Stronghold.”

“Then we fucking go after them,” Anna Lee says.

“No, we wait,” Val responds. “This is the rendezvous point for DTA. If there are others, then they’ll meet here. We’re going to need numbers.”

“We don’t fucking know if any are alive,” Anna Lee frowns. “Sounds like a fucking long shot to me.”

“Fucking A,” Benji nods, getting a glare from Anna Lee. “Don’t give me a look, Sasquatch. I’m agreeing with you. I’d like to get out of here right the fuck now, please.”

Cole goes to the windows and shields his eyes from the rising sun.

“We stay for two hours,” Cole says. “If they don’t get to us by then we head out.”

“Two hours may not be enough,” Val says.

“Two hours is plenty,” Cole says. “We got here, didn’t we? If anyone from DTA is still left alive then they’ll be here within two hours.”

Val sighs, but nods in agreement.

“Good,” Cole says. “Benji? You’re on watch. We need some shut eye.”

“Watch?” Benji grumbles. “I’ve been on watch all night.”

“So two hours more won’t hurt then,” Cole smiles, throwing his pack down and grabbing a spot on one of the couches in the room. “If DTA Mates don’t show up then wake us up in two. And don’t nod off.”

***

The man stops, turns his head to the side then moves along, walking casually down the middle of the street, his body pointed due north.

Tiny D keeps her hand up, fist clenched as Duster crouches a few feet back by a corner building, his hand pressed to his side while he simultaneously watches Tiny D and scans the area, making sure there aren’t more crazies around. During their harried flight from Sector
One, they’ve had to dodge half a dozen of the blind ones, after learning the hard way what one of them can do.

Duster pulls his hand away and looks down quickly. He frowns at the blood smeared across his glove, but is glad it’s not as much as had been there earlier. The bleeding has slowed and he’s pretty sure the knife wound is more superficial damage and pain than anything mortal. At least he hopes so.

The man in the street continues walking for a couple of blocks, then turns right and is lost behind a crumbled apartment complex. Tiny D does a silent count to ten then lowers her fist and glances over her shoulder. Her eyebrows raise and Duster gives her a nod. They both stand and slowly make their way up the street, the sun starting to rise behind them.

When they get to the
corner, the man turned at, Tiny D raises her fist again and they stop. She takes two soft steps and peers around the edge.

The blow comes hard and fast and she’s sent flying backwards, tumbling from the cracked sidewalk and into the street itself.

“Fuck,” Duster snarls and steps to the side, his carbine up. “Come on out, asshole. I have you covered.”

The man rolls from around the
corner and in the split second it takes Duster to lower his aim, the man is already at him, kicking and knocking out Duster’s legs.

The Mate lands hard on the ground and the attacker clambers up over him, raising a fist then bringing it down fast, cracking Duster in the jaw then the nose then right between the eyes. If the guy had eyes, Duster would have thought they were wild with madness, but he
doesn’t, so Duster just feels the madness in the tension of the man’s body and the brutality of each hit.

“Fuck off!” Tiny D s
ays as she cracks the blind man across the temple with the butt of her carbine.

He tumbles off
Duster, scrambling away until he can push up to his feet and take off running. Tiny D is almost reluctant to pull the trigger as she places the butt of her M-4 firmly against her shoulder. But she sights down the barrel and gently squeezes off two shots. Both hit him squarely in the back of the head and a spray of blood, bone, and brain mushrooms out in front of him as he collapses to the pavement.

“You good?” Tiny D asks, her carbine and eyes still trained on the blind man, not assuming anything. “Duster? You
good?”

Duster rolls over and pushes up on his hands and knees. He blows snot and blood out his nose, wipes his face with the back of a
glove, then gets to his feet. He slowly wiggles his jaw then nods at Tiny D.

“Good,” Duster says. “Fucker can hit, though.”

The two Mates cautiously walk to the corpse. Tiny D pushes it over with her boot, her finger resting on the trigger of her M-4.

“I’d say you got him,” Duster grins which turns into a grimace. “Fuck. I think he cracked my jaw. Bastard.”

The man’s face is nothing but an obliterated chunk of flesh and teeth. No distinguishing feature is left except for one empty eye socket. Duster kneels next to the corpse and studies the lines of scabs and cuts that ring the socket. He pulls his knife and sets it by one of the lines then by another. He shakes his head as he stands.

“They do this to themselves,” Duster says. “See how the slashes pull down
and to the side?” He puts his knife close to his eye and mimics the motion. “Like that. Someone didn’t do it to them. These crazy fucks cut themselves.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Tiny D says, her attention drawn
back to the street and just how exposed they are. “At least the daylight doesn’t make a difference.”

“Better for us,” Duster says. “They have the advantage at night.”

“How the fuck do you think they fight so well?” Tiny D asks. “It really is like they don’t need eyes.”

“Do you?” Duster asks as they move over to the cover of a building and work their way up the street
, eyes watching every possible hide a crazy blind fuck could be waiting in. “Think about it. How many moves do you plan ahead when you fight?”

“I don’t,” Tiny D says. “Training kicks in and I just move.”

“Same with them,” Duster says. “They probably start early. Maybe at birth. You grow up without eyes, and learn to
kill
without eyes, and you don’t know you have a disadvantage. Who knows how many people these fucks have killed? Think of the refugees that don’t make it to the Stronghold. I’m willing to bet they’re their training.”