Evacuation (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

0308 hours

They knew he was inside. No way could they smell him. The ones that chased him into the apartment before he slammed the door must have started scraping the wood, and tapping fingernails on the glass window. Then there was the moaning. Growling. Maybe it was like a call that told other zombies they had trapped a potential meal. Combined, it was more noise than I would of thought possible without an actual word being said. The ten, twelve of them there were all doing it, scratching, tapping and moaning. Growling. Yeah. Oh yeah, it was loud enough to attract the attention of
more
zombies to the area.

I’d also have guessed that the explosion would call some away.
Didn’t seem to be the case. The food was here and they were intent on waiting it out, or scratching a way through the wall to get inside. Giving up didn’t seem like it belonged in their vocabulary, but they didn’t speak, so vocabulary was not accurate. Not at all.

“That’s a lot,” Dave said.

I hated that most of them wore military uniforms. Some carried rifles strapped around their shoulders and slung over their backs. Doubted they knew how to use them, fire back at us. Hell, they couldn’t even figure out how to open the door.

I took a knee.

“You a good shot?” Dave said.

“Don’t think I have to be. From here, we can just shoot into the group.”

“If they’re fast ones, they’ll come at us.”

I bit my upper lip. “The two of us shooting, I think we got it.”

“Think?”

“Got a better idea? Want to go in closer.
Hand-to-hand?”

Dave raised his rifle, closed one eye.
“Monkeys in a barrel.”

Think
it’s fish. Not monkeys. The kids’ toy was those looped arm plastic red monkeys. They came in a barrel. Didn’t matter, was neither here nor there. I took aim, as well.

“If they charge, might be easier to shoot. They’ll be closer. Bigger target,” Dave said. “And right in front of us.”

Before I could answer, he opened fire. My ears rang. My head buzzed. Not wanting to be outdone, rather being told to
Go Fuck Myself
, I pulled the trigger.

They weren’t monkeys, and they sure as shit aren't fish. A cluster of zombies, and us maybe twenty yards away, we shouldn’t have missed as many as we did.
Should have been a lot easier. The moonlight, the fire, it helped, but not enough, apparently. We sucked. The darkness, which was still too consuming made seeing difficult and accuracy nearly impossible. For us, anyway.

I hit one though.
Was my bullet for sure. Took him in the gut. Watched thick blood spray. He went down. I thought, fuck headshots!

No sooner had I thought it, the mother got slowly onto all fours. Pushed his way up, and stood. I swear that fucker looked right at me, as if it knew I was the one that shot him. He spit out a mouthful of gunk.
The bulk splatted into the mud. The rest dangled on a thick string of goo from his lower lip. When he charged, I panicked.

My hands fumbled on the rifle, needlessly. I felt my fingers loosen, grip, and then I brought the weapon up and aimed it as best I could before firing.

However, I hit nothing. Fired again. Nothing. It wasn’t my fault. Blame the mud. The thing did lose its balance, slid, but didn’t fall. My bullet must have just missed, whizzed by his head. That was my guess. What I was sticking to.

“Dave,” I said.
A heads-up to the fact that the thing was headed right for us fast. The camouflage it wore didn’t hide shit. It looked like a brick house running straight for me.

I opened both eyes, blinked, and saw it correctly. Behind my giant soldier were the rest of the zombies. They must have realized they couldn’t open a fucking door to get at Marf, and that Dave and I couldn’t hit shit, so screw it, they’d follow the leader. And their leader was headed right at us.

“Run,” Dave said.

Run where, I thought. I didn’t want to get separated. “Into an apartment,” I said.

“What about Marfione?”

“He is on his own right now,” I said. “Now run.”

Getting up from kneeling, my foot slid. I used the butt of the rifle as a cane, pushing up, got to my feet and ran.

Dave fired off another shot. “I’m behind you.”

Behind me. Great. Where was I headed?

The next apartment was closer to the center and closer to the fire. Last thing I wanted was getting inside and then burning to death. I grabbed the door handle. The door opened and I dove in.

Dave’s word was true. He was right behind me.

The door was closing slowly.
Too slowly.

“Close it,” I said. I couldn’t move. Dave was on top of me.

He skidded off. The mud made any traction difficult. We both kicked around. Dave crawled on his belly toward the door.

One of the zombies was at the entrance before we could shut the door.

“Shit,” I said. I wrestled with the rifle. The strap. Holding it correctly.

It walked up the last step.

“Chase!” Dave said. He could not get up. The wood floor was streaked as if covered in oil.

The zombie was missing most of its face. Clearly, something had bitten off its cheek. The exposed blackened gums and rotting teeth were all I saw when it opened its mouth. It stepped into the apartment, just as I got to my knees.

“Down!”

It wasn’t Dave.

I dropped, regardless. I held onto my rifle, but dropped with my belly flat on the floor.

A gunshot rang out. A hole instantaneously appeared in the center of the thing’s forehead. It stood there.

Dave kicked it in the chest.

It fell backward, down the two steps and splattered into a pool of mud. Dave did not waste time. He fumbled for the door, pulled it closed and locked it.

“Holy fuck,” he said.

I panted and looked around. The apartment was dark. Far too filled with shadows, despite the windows and fire outside, to see who else was inside.

“Hello?” I said.

“Were either of you bitten?” A female voice asked.

“Who is there?” I said.

I heard a shotgun pump. “Were either of you bitten?”

“No,” Dave said. “No, neither of us was bitten.”

Silence.
I tried to see in the darkness, to no avail.

“Hello,” I
said, when I could take the silence no longer.

“Who are you?” the woman asked. That wasn’t quite fair, since I’d asked first. I deserved an answer first. Whoever she was, she had the advantage. Her eyes must be adjusted to the lack of light and she had a weapon obviously aimed at us.

“I’m Chase and that’s Dave. We came over with the Coast Guard and just got here, maybe an hour ago, but I’m not sure. Wasn’t long ago, though.” My hands were out, reaching, fingers stretching, looking to touch something. Anything.

“Stay still,” she said. “Who was the captain on the boat?”

“Keel,” Dave said. “Travis Keel.”

Chapter Sixteen

0410 hours

The four of us sat with backs to the wall.

“They got Barron,” Private Elysia Palmeri said. Her knees were up, her rifle standing between her thighs. Her hands gripped the barrel. It seemed like an actual part of her body. With ripped sleeves and dried mud covering her face, I could only imagine the battle that unfolded.

Private Christopher Saylor’s ankle was wrapped in a crude splint. Wood stakes were tied in place with torn bed sheets. I had no idea where his boot was. I didn’t see a rifle. He held his sidearm, his finger just outside the trigger guard. His elbows rested on drawn knees, head down.

“He okay?” Dave said, as if Saylor wasn’t even in the room.

Palmeri looked at her partner and then Dave, nodding slightly. “We rounded a corner.
Nothing, right? So we moved forward. Figured the place was deserted. Hoped it was, you know? As we made our way toward the center of the camp, we could see the M.A.S.H. unit, the mess halls, and not one fucking zombie. Then Barron, who was behind us, screams. Not like he’s hurt, but like he’s surprised as fucking hell. Caught off guard. We both turned around, and saw two of them had him down. He lost his footing. Must have been easy pulling him onto his back. He screamed as he punched and kicked at the two that attacked him. Saylor was trying to get a shot off, but it was so dark. They were bucking and squirming around. There was no shot. And the whole time Barron’s screaming. Like a fucking pansy. He’s just howling. ‘Get them off me, get them off me.’”

We’d heard the screaming all the way at the boat, coming over the radio. He sounded as if he had been getting ripped apart.
Shredded limb from limb.

“I told the sergeant. Said that Barron was down, you know? Don’t know what I expected. Truth is,” she closed her eyes, “I kind of panicked. Saylor couldn’t get a shot off, and those things were just freaking creepy. I can’t blame Barron. It was like he was covered with spiders. I hate spiders. God, I hate spiders. As much as I suffer from arachnophobia, these things are worse. No shit, right? So I don’t know. My training kicked in. I used my rifle and started smashing it into skulls.
Swinging this bastard like an ax.” Palmeri lifts her rifle and drops the butt onto the wood floor. It tap-tap-taps.

“I shot one,” Saylor said. First word since Dave and I made it inside the apartment. “I shot one, but I shot Barron, too.”

“It wasn’t a fatal shot for Barron, anyway.” Palmeri put one hand on Saylor’s shoulder. “It was a good shot. The way they were moving around, it was a very good shot.”

“Barron never stopped screaming. That thing got him. Bit him.
Had pieces of Barron’s throat in his teeth. Blood gushed from Barron’s neck. Squirted.” Saylor sat with his back to the wall. He looked to the ceiling. I couldn’t see if his eyes were open. I couldn’t tell if he was crying. “I shot that thing again. In the skull. His brains blew out the back of his head. He fell over, dead for real this time. Dead for good.” Barron had been bitten.

“And Barron?”
I said.

Palmeri shook her head. “I did it. We didn’t want him to turn. He knew. He was dying anyway.
Losing blood. Losing so much blood. There was nothing we could do for him.”

“There was nothing anyone could have done.” Saylor got to his feet. He coddled his left leg, hand covering his knee. He limped away from the wall toward one of the beds.

“Don’t let them see you,” Palmeri said.

“They aren’t tall enough to see inside the windows,” he said.

“McKinney?”

I pressed the bud in my ear and spoke into my sleeve.
“Marfione?”

“Where are you guys?”

“Is that Lou?” Palmeri said.

“It’s Marfione,” I said.

Palmeri pulled the bud from my ear and put it into hers. She talked into the radio on her sleeve. “Lieutenant, Lou? It’s Palmeri, sir.”

I was out now and couldn’t hear the conversation. Dave listened. Saylor wasn’t. Somehow, he and Palmeri must have lost their buds during the struggle and fight. It must have been pulled out, ripped off.

I waited, tried to listen, but heard nothing. Finally, Palmeri pulled the bud out of her ear; it dangled from my shoulder. I picked it up and plugged it back in. “Well?”

“Marf’s okay. Holed up, like us. Says he’s still surrounded. He’s checking floorboards. See if he can’t crawl out, sneak away,” she said.

“And us?” I said. “What’s our plan?”

I was only too happy to turn over command. Dave looked to me for leadership. That was fine when it was the two of us, but it wasn’t a burden I wanted. With Palmeri and Saylor, I could relinquish it back to the military.

Then I looked over at Saylor.

One boot.
A splint.

I thought about Chatterton when he was in the hull of his ship, talking to his people. The conversation I overheard when he thought I was asleep where he said my kids and I were a liability and was worried we’d slow them down.

I looked away. Looked at my own feet, for lack of anything else to look at. I felt ashamed. I thought the same way Chatterton had. I pursed my lips.

“What are you thinking?” Dave said.

I shook my head.

“You had an idea?” he said.

I shook my head again, just wanting him to drop it, and willing him to shut his mouth.

“I’ll tell you what he was thinking,” Saylor said. He was not using his inside voice.

Palmeri shushed him.

“No. Fuck that. I know what McKinney was thinking. I know what you’re all thinking.” He slapped his leg. “I’m going to get you all killed. I’m useless on the team.”

“No one thinks that,” Palmeri said. She lacked conviction in her words. She would be a terrible actress. “We’re all getting out of here. Together.”

My mind was a mess. I wanted to knock it around. The thoughts that filled it scared me. It wasn’t me who was thinking such cowardly thoughts.
Couldn’t be. Survival of the fittest. Don’t have to be the fastest, just faster than the slowest. Dammit! I needed the voices to stop.

“McKinney ain’t thinkin’ about me. He ain’t worried ‘bout us all getting back to the ship safely. Are you, Chase? It’s just about you. Just about you and your kids, right?”

I held up my hands, palms out, shaking my head as if he had me all wrong.

“Well, fuck you,” he said. “I got a family, too, you know.
Kids. Two, just like you. But younger. Babies. In Maryland. Right outside D.C.  Don’t you think I want to be with them keeping them safe at home?”

I was silent.

“I’m with the fucking reserves. Got shipped here before all this shit broke out. Some training in the mountains. The Adirondacks. Was supposed to be just for a stupid weekend, and then they kept me here. My whole unit. They kept us here. Called my wife, told her. She was pissed. Never wanted me in the reserves anyway. This was icing on the cake for her, you know. Fucking something, she could throw in my face. I’d be missing my daughter’s third birthday. My other daughter, my baby, wasn’t even one yet. Yeah, that’s right. Wasn’t. Past tense. I haven’t been able to reach them. I have no clue where they are, or if they’re all right. Reports we got on the Capital,” he stopped, head hung low. Web of one hand supported his forehead. “I’m not giving up. I’m finishing this mission, McKinney. I’m getting out of here and I’m done. I’m going home. I’m going to get my family. So fuck you. I’ll go it alone if you don’t want me slowing you down. I’ll go it alone.”