Dead Team Alpha: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (26 page)

“You alive, little guy?” he asks Benji, seeing the gash across the Runner’s forehead.

“No,” Benji replies.

“Everyone good?” Val says as she scrambles to get the cage open. “Tell me you’re good!”

Everyone in her trolley mumbles something.

“Okay,” she says, stepping out onto shaky legs. “Time for the second leg of our trip.”

“We’re doing it again?” Alastair asks, holding his head back as his nose gushes blood.

“If we want to get up the mountain before sunset,” Val says and walks over to the other trolley.

DTB is slowly getting out, making sure to double check each other for serious injuries.

“Your Team still breathing?” Stanford asks.

“As far as I can tell,” Val says, twisting her back this way and that then rolling her shoulders. “Yours?”

“DTB?” Stanford asks.

“Fuck you,” Shep says. There are similar sentiments from the others.

“Yep,” Stanford says. “All breathing.”

The two cousins look at the next set of trolleys and frown.

“So…any thoughts on a better way to stop?” Stanford asks.

“No,” Val replies.

“Really? Nothing?” Stanford says. “I thought nearly dying would be inspiration.”

“Did it inspire you?”

“It inspired me not to get into a trolley ever again.”

“Me too.”

“That doesn’t help us much, does it?” Stanford asks.

“Not in the least,” Val replies.

“The hard way again then,” Stanford frowns, rubbing his neck. He turns to the Mates. “You know h
ow this works. Let’s get the next set ready to roll.” He looks up at the sun. “We have five hours tops before the sun is down. We are going to need every single minute of that time. I don’t have to remind any of you what it’s like to take on those blind fuckers at night. Especially since we only have blades and 9mms at hand.”

Everyone grimaces at the thought.

“Get to work, Mates!” Val orders. “We need to be on the road again in ten minutes!”

“Now I have that song in my head,” Alastair says.

“The one the Gulch Mulchers sing?” Lang asks.

“No, I think it’s the Rodeo Clowns,” Horton says as she and Tommy Bombs start working a cable loose.

“Rodeo Clowns broke up last month,” Carlito adds. “Sean found Emily 69ing with the drummer, what’s his name?”

“Billy, I think,” Carlotta responds, pulling the pin from one switch, yanking out the gear, and replacing it with a larger gear before putting the pin back in place. She gives a quick tug. “And he’s married to Laurie Henkel’s sister, right?”

Val looks over at Stanford and they shake their heads. Badasses or not, the Stronghold is a small town.

***

Commander Lee stands before the assembled defensive guard, a group made up of retired Mates, as well as those willing to volunteer. Most of them haven’t seen combat in years, while the rest haven’t seen combat at all except for their brief time serving in the Teams, usually as support crews. She does see some hardened veterans of the Reclamation Crews and knows those bastards can take down a Z.

“You will be what decides this fight,” she says. “Not that wall, not that gate, not any of the traps and razor wire strewn along the outer perimeter. You. Every shot you take has to count. We do not have the ammunition to just fire wildly down at the Zs. We do not have the manpower to hand you a fresh magazine when you empty yours into one Z like a green rookie out of basic.
You will carefully aim your shots and you will kill with each pull of the trigger.”

She nods to Kevin Ross and the man starts walking along the front
line, then working his way back, row by row, handing out small pouches as he assesses the ammunition needed by each member of the guard, calling back to a group of weapons techs that are watching him closely. He calls and they run up with a pouch. Soon the entire town center is holding a pouch and Kevin walks back up front to Commander Lee. She gives him a nod.

“Besides the limited amount of ammunition you have for your individual firearms,” Kevin says
, “you will find two fragmentation grenades and four flares in your pouch. The fragmentation grenades are last resort only. I cannot stress that enough. I would rather you never touch those, okay? You will see some folks up there firing launchers. Let them. That’s their job. Do not join them. Keep those frags ready for when you absolutely need them.” He watches for acknowledgement and doesn’t see as much as he’d like. “The flares are for when you run out of ammunition. You toss a flare to the ground and you place one on the platform up on the wall. This will tell us where the weak points in the defense are.”

“If you see a flare close to you while you are up on the wall,” Commander Lee says, taking over again. “You will spread yourselves out to cover that gap. You know how the Zs can get piled up. The undead are stupid, but they can climb mounds of bodies. We want to thin out the line and not let them get the chance.”

“Climb the bodies?” a man asks. “The wall is fifty feet high.”

“Yes, it is,” Commander Lee says. “And there are thousands of Zs coming at us. You may not have done the math, but I have. It only takes a hundred dead Zs stacked in one spot to create an issue. So try not to kill them at the base of the wall, alright? Shoot out away from the wall. Drop them before they can be a problem.”

Standing in the front row, Collin leans over to Sheriff Marsh. “That sound right to you?” he asks. “Worried about Zs climbing over each other?”

Marsh shakes his head. Collin tries to
catch his sister’s eye, but she refuses to look right at him.

“The herd has just reached the outer perimeter,” Commander Lee continues. “We have pulled everyone that lives outside
the wall into the Stronghold proper. They are being placed in secure households now. A select few sentries have volunteered to remain outside. They will be posted on the roofs of houses, taking out as many Zs as they can. It is their choice. The gate is being closed and it won’t open until this nightmare is done.” She sees some nod, but also that others are staring at her, fear and worry beyond themselves clouding their features. “I know we have people down the mountain, but they aren’t our concern right now. I’m not trying to sound cruel, but that is the reality. We cannot let the Stronghold be breached by anyone. By the Zs. Is that understood?”

The crowd nods.

“Good,” Commander Lee says. “You’ve all drilled for this, so get to your posts. No one fires until the order is given, but once it’s given, you do not stop firing until you are empty. Make those shots matter!”

“Every person counts!” someone yells.

“We always remember!” another replies.

“Before you go, remember where the fall back position
s are,” Commander Lee says. “Get to the Gym or the Team command center. Now go!”

More calls of “every person counts” and “we always remember”
go back and forth, as the defensive guard hurries off to the wall.

Collin stays behind, waiting for his moment, then sidles up to his sister.

“Not now,” she says, brushing him off as she tries to hurry away.

He grabs her arm and spins her around. “Yes, now,” he snaps. “What’s this shit about bodies piling up and Zs climbing over?
So what? Zs are clumsy as fuck and gravity ain’t their friend. So they get inside, we’ll pick them off. Or just fucking hide.”

He waits but his sister doesn’t respond.

“God dammit, Maura!” he shouts, garnering more than a few worried looks as people hurry by them. “My daughter is down the mountain and so is your son! You be straight with me right the fuck now!”

Commander Lee thinks of knocking him cold, just to avoid telling him what she knows
. She could easily do it, even though he outweighs her by a good seventy pounds. But she sees the look in his eyes and realizes he’s not being his usual, obstinate asshole self. He’s actually scared.

“Code Monkeys,” she says almost so quietly that he doesn’t hear her over the chaos.

His face blanches and he rubs his mouth, really wishing he had a drink or fifty of corn hooch.

“You’re sure?” he asks finally.

“Yes,” she says. “Carlyle confirmed it. They’re back.”

“Holy shit fuck,” he says, his fear turning to anger. “But they were supposed to be dead.”

“I know,” she replies.

“
My son was born blind to make sure they were fucking dead! My wife died of cancer to make sure they were fucking dead!” he shouts, then lowers his voice. His hands are shaking with rage and the shotgun gripped in them starts to rattle. “Are you telling me my boy never saw his mother’s face for no reason? Are you telling me my wife died for nothing?”

“No one
dies for nothing in this world. Every person counts,” she replies, grabbing the shotgun and steadying it. “And I know you’re pissed. So am I, but the reality is the reality. Don’t let the bodies pile up or those blind fucks will climb right over that wall and butcher us all.”

Collin stares at his sister, realization dawning, pushing through the broken connections in his hooch-addled brain. He pulls the shotgun from her grip and throws it over his shoulder. He looks at the woman before him, a woman that used to be a little
girl, who once screamed at him to, “Go away!” when he wouldn’t stop teasing her. And he suddenly sees what he never could before.

She is scared
too.

Not of dying, that would be an honor, but of living. Living in a world all alone. A world she has put herself in. A jail cell of her own making.

“You’re right about every person counting,” Collin says. “So maybe apply that to yourself, for a change?”

He pushes past her, filing in with the others that hurry around, preparing for the inevitable.

***

This
time, they are ready for it.

Their gloved hands firmly gripped around the cage bars, legs wrapped around each
other’s waists so they look like human pretzels, the Teams set themselves for the coming impact.

Three, two, one.

It’s still as bone jarring as the first crash, but with considerably less bruising and blood.

“Again, people!” V
al yells, feeling the role of TL starting to fit her. “We still have a couple more trips to make before we get home!”

“I’m going to need a massage,” Diaz says.

“I’ll let you know my rates,” Benji says as he helps the man undo one of the cables.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cole says. “Keep it in your pants.”

“Why you gotta be such a homophobe?” Diaz smirks. “Or biophobe, in like half the Stronghold’s case.”

“That would mean afraid of life,” Alastair says. “Not afraid of bisexuality.”

“If you don’t want to experience it all,” Diaz laughs, “then maybe you
are
afraid of life?”

“Shut the fuck up, you two,” Val says. “Leave Cole alone. He’s not homophobic or afraid of bisexuality. He just likes being the only dick in the room
, which he usually pulls off perfectly fine.”

“He pulls off his dick?” Benji asks. “Now that’s a trick.”

“I hate you guys,” Cole says, trying to hide a smile. “You’re all fucking suck.”

“Good to go here!
” Stanford shouts. “How are you doing, DTA?”

“Hold on,” Val says, lifting a steel plate so Alastair and Anna Lee can adjust the gear underneath. “There. All good!”

The Teams look at each other and then at the trolleys.

“I don’t mind marching the
rest of the way,” Horton says. “No, really, I don’t.”

“Get in, you big scaredy cat,”
Carlotta says.

Repeating their previous ride’s prep, they all get in to their trolleys, wrap legs, and grip tight. Stanford and Val reach out the backs, grab the couplings, and pull.

***

A herd like no other. That is what most of the sentries think as they crouch on tile, tin,
and old asphalt shingles, their rifles and carbines aimed at the mass of undead below them. Once the herd has pushed through the checkpoint at the outer perimeter, it is forced to funnel up the road and stagger, shuffle, shamble between the rows of houses that line each side of the street.

Some spill over into yards made of cracked mud and rock, but most stay on the direct path the street offers. The old order of their former lives
keeps them in line. Zs are deadly, but predictable.

No one gives a signal,
because no one has to.

Gunfire erupts and Zs start to fall. The men and woman could have stayed anonymous and probably survived, but once the Zs are alerted to their
presence, the mega-herd starts to crumble and fill the whole area. Putrid hands showing weather polished raw, fingertips of bone, claw at the faded and ruined siding of the abandoned houses, trying to find purchase so they can get to the meat above.