Rolling Thunder - 03 (8 page)

I’m not bragging when I say there aren’t many shooters in
the world that would have gotten the second one.  I know how fast I can acquire
and engage new targets, faster than anyone I’ve ever worked with, and I barely
got her before she would have disappeared over the top.  Pushing that thought
down I re-scanned the shelves and didn’t see any more movement.  Dog growled
and I glanced down to see him looking in the opposite direction.  I spun in
place and scanned, shooting another female that was on the very top of the
shelving and working her way to a position where she could have dropped right
on top of me.

No more screams.  I kept scanning the shelves in both
directions without seeing any threats.  I knew there were a few more females,
but they had gone quiet.  Cursing whatever had allowed them to start thinking
and working together, I kept scanning and also kept an eye on Dog.  Normally I
would have moved to force their hand, but I wasn’t going to leave Rachel.  I
had hastily hidden her and while she wasn’t obvious to a casual inspection I
didn’t want to trust that they wouldn’t sniff her out, or that Rachel wouldn’t
wake up and make noise that would attract them.  Thinking about Rachel I
glanced at the spot where I had hidden her and paused.  I wasn’t exactly sure I
hadn’t left a box partially sticking out beyond the front of the shelf, but I
didn’t think I had. 

I made a quick scan then moved to the spot where I’d hidden
Rachel and pushed the box aside to check on her.  At first I didn’t understand
what I was, or wasn’t seeing, then I was frantically shoving boxes out of my
way and reaching into the area behind them.  All of the boxes from the far set
of shelves had been removed, leaving the shelf clear and open into the adjacent
aisle, and Rachel was gone.

Cursing, I stepped back into the aisle and did a quick scan
to make sure there weren’t any females scaling the shelves on their way to
attack me while I had been distracted.  Nothing moved.  I trotted to the
closest intersection, scanned again as I moved into the adjacent aisle and kept
scanning as I stepped toward the pile of boxes on the floor that marked where
Rachel had been taken.  There were no more screams and I didn’t see any females
moving.  Dog growled as two males moved into the intersection on the far side
of our destination and I snapped off a couple of rounds and dropped them
without breaking stride.

Reaching the location I looked at the boxes on the floor and
the empty space in the shelf.  Reaching out with my foot I pushed on one of the
boxes with the toe of my boot and was mildly surprised at how heavy it felt. 
Whoever, or whatever, had moved the boxes had done so silently.  Not even Dog
had detected them.  They had picked up and moved several heavy boxes then moved
Rachel across a good six feet of shelving and presumably carried her away without
any sound.  The skin on my back puckered and crawled as I thought about the
strength this would require.  Were the females capable?  They were strong as
hell when enraged and attacking, but what about to do something like this?  And
when the hell did they start capturing survivors rather than killing them?

These were questions I needed to know the answers to, but
right now the priority was to get Rachel back before something really bad
happened to her.  Kneeling on the floor I called Dog over and started tapping
the floor in the middle of the piled boxes.  He lowered his nose and sniffed
the whole area then looked at me.

“Find them, boy.”  I said, standing back up.  I had no idea
if this would work.  Dog was smart, and certainly had the ability, but would he
know what I wanted him to do?

After a long moment he lowered his nose back to the floor
and sniffed, moved through the boxes and started trotting in the direction we
had come from with his nose less than an inch above the smooth concrete.  I
followed, rifle up and head on a swivel.  At the intersection we had come from
he turned right and headed deeper into the length of the warehouse.  I counted
intersections as we went, Dog pausing as we approached number eleven.

We were now deep in the warehouse, equidistant between the
front and back walls and not too far from the longitudinal center.  Every alarm
bell in my head was telling me this was a trap.  It had to be the infected that
had taken Rachel as survivors would almost certainly have made a beeline for an
exit.  I scanned all around us, aisles and shelves, but nothing moved.  Nothing
had moved since we had started following the scent and it had been too long
since I’d heard a female scream.

Dog was still paused and the fur along the ridge of his back
was stiff as he lowered his head below shoulder level and growled deep in his
chest.  I scanned in the direction he was looking but couldn’t find anything. 
After a second negative scan I stepped forward to the corner of the next
intersection, Dog close to my side, and peered around the shelf.  One hundred
feet down the aisle to our left was a body lying on the floor.  I was almost
certain, but verified with the rifle scope that it was Rachel.  Moving
carefully I scanned the entire aisle, up and down the shelves, along the top of
the shelving, but saw nothing.  Turning to my right I repeated the scan and
came up with the same results.  What the hell?  They had set up a perfect trap,
using Rachel for bait, but where were they?

Pulling back so I was hidden from the aisle, I focused on
calming my breathing and lowering my heart rate.  After a minute I was able to
hear more than my blood pounding in my ears and I stood stock still and
listened.  Dog was absolutely silent standing next to me and I concentrated on
identifying the normal sounds of the environment so I could pick out anything
that didn’t belong.  I could hear the rain on the roof far over my head, two
distinctly different sounds depending on whether the water was hitting the
metal roof or the plastic skylights.  There was a moaning of wind as it rushed
over the exterior of the building.  Other than that, there was nothing making
any noise.  After five minutes I decided I had to move, even though I knew it
was a set-up.

Back at the edge of the intersection I did another careful
scan of the aisle in both directions, again seeing nothing of concern.  Rachel
was still lying where I’d first seen her.  I was worried about getting her up
and on my shoulder.  The maneuver was difficult under good circumstances, and
both of us would be completely vulnerable to attack while I was performing it. 
I needed Rachel awake and able to move under her own power if I hoped to get us
out of there alive.  Pulling back I shrugged out of my pack and dug for the
medical kit, pulling out a small tube of ammonia inhalant or smelling salts.  I
had no doubt that any doctor would tell me it was bad to force Rachel awake
with an obviously severe concussion, but the risk I was going to take was
better than getting eaten by a pack of infected females.

Another scan and I was ready to move, rifle up and ready and
the small inhalant safely tucked into a pouch on the front of my vest. 
Stepping carefully down the aisle I paused when lightning flashed and lit up
the interior, gave my eyes a moment to re-adjust to the gloom, and then
continued.  I was moving down the left side of the aisle, shoulder nearly
brushing the shelves so I could keep an eye on the opposite side.  Dog moved
down that side and I trusted him to alert me if he detected anything on the
shelving above my head.

In short order we reached the point where Rachel was lying. 
She was on her side, long hair covering her face.  If she had been dropped
where she was I only hoped she hadn’t hit her head on the hard floor again. 
Scanning in every direction possible I slowly moved to her side, let the rifle
hang down my back and drew my pistol.  Kneeling down in front of her I kept an
eye on the shelves, checked on Dog and brushed Rachel’s hair off her face. 
Pulling the inhalant out of the pouch I squeezed the thin plastic until it
snapped and was immediately hit by the sharp odor of ammonia. 

Before I could put the ampule under Rachel’s nose a scream
sounded from above and to my right, instantly answered by more screams from all
around me.  Snapping my head up I saw boxes tumble off a shelf high in the air,
followed by a female who had hidden behind them.  She leapt off the edge of the
shelf and I fell to the floor on my back, dropping the inhalant, raised the
pistol and fired three quick rounds.  There was no time for aiming for her
head, just blast away at center mass and hope for a heart shot.  Luck was with
me, one of my rounds finding the infected’s heart and killing her.  I tried to
roll out of the way of the falling body but didn’t make it, the woman crashing
down on me with enough force to knock some of the wind out of my lungs.

Behind me Dog was fighting with a female that had crashed
out of the shelves and as I scrambled partially out from under the body lying
on top of me another one landed on her feet directly in front of my face.  I
swung the pistol towards her but she was too close and attacked before I could
bring it to bear, knocking it out of my hand to skitter across the floor.  She
fell on me, hands grasping for my throat, her knees on my chest.  I managed to
kick the body off my legs then raised my legs and locked them in a scissor hold
around her neck, pulling her off of me.  Controlling the momentum, I spun up
onto the side of my hip and onto my feet in a crouch, drawing the Ka-Bar.  She
had already recovered and lunged at me.  I stabbed as I slipped to the side of
her lunge, the blade going into the side of her neck to the hilt.  Holding
tight I let her momentum tear the blade across her throat, opening both carotid
arteries and nearly decapitating her. 

I looked around and saw Dog finishing off a female, another
one lying dead in a spreading pool of blood to his rear.  Turning to look up at
the shelves I saw at least a dozen males at the far intersection shambling in
our direction.  Sheathing the knife I pulled my rifle around and scanned the
shelves around us, pausing and staring when I spotted a female standing on the
very top shelf staring back at me.  We stood that way for a few heartbeats,
just staring at each other, then she turned and disappeared.  I wished I had
shot her when I had the chance.  I had no doubt that she was dangerously smart
and had somehow gotten the other females to work together to set up this
ambush.  Thinking about that level of cunning from an infected made my blood
run cold, but I was out of time to think about it.

Turning back to the approaching males I started dropping
them with head shots, the last one falling within six feet of where Rachel
lay.  Another scan and we were clear for the moment, unless there were more
surprises hiding behind boxes.  With no imminent attack I moved back to Rachel,
picked up the inhalant and held it to my nose when Rachel didn’t react.  They
evaporate very quickly once broken open and it was dry.  Digging out another, I
broke it open and immediately stuck it under Rachel’s nose.  She coughed,
sputtered and tried to bat my hand away but I held it in place, moving it along
with her as she tried to turn her head away.

She finally opened her eyes, squinted up at me then quickly
turned her head and threw up.  Keeping my eyes on the aisle, I reached out and
gathered her hair and held it behind her head while the waves of nausea from
the concussion rolled through her.  Rachel heaved until nothing was left in her
stomach, then stayed in the same position gasping for air.  I wanted to give
her time to recover, but time was a luxury we didn’t have.  Tucking her hair
inside the back of her shirt I stood up, glanced at Dog to make sure he wasn’t
sensing any threats, then leaned over Rachel.

“I’m sorry, but we have to go.  Now.”  I said in a low
voice.

Rachel was on her hands and knees, head hanging down as she
fought the sickness, but she nodded her understanding and raised up to sit on
her knees and looked up at me.  She looked like hell, pale and drawn with
sunken eyes, but she raised a shaking hand to me for help.  Taking her hand I
pulled her to her feet and had to steady her when she wobbled and nearly
crashed back to the floor.  Once she was standing on her own I looked around
for my pistol and retrieved it from where it had fallen in the scuffle. 

“Can you handle your rifle?”  I asked her.

“Give it here.  I’m fine.”  She answered, her weak voice
telling me she was anything but.  Regardless, I pulled her rifle sling over my
head and handed it to her.  She worked it over her head and performed a quick
check to make sure it was ready to fire if she needed it.  I was impressed with
her toughness.  I’ve had bad concussions, the kind where you get completely
knocked out, and I knew how she was feeling right now.  Dog came over to walk
beside her and we started moving towards the back of the warehouse. 

We turned right at the first intersection, my intention to
go pick up Rachel’s pack.  She carried all of our food plus the large field
medic kit.  I wasn’t too worried about food, we could always scavenge when we
needed to eat, but I wanted that kit.  It held the anesthetic for my hands and
I had a lot of healing to go before I could do without.  I knew I could handle
the pain, that wasn’t it.  Just because I could handle the pain didn’t mean the
pain wouldn’t affect my ability to fight, and if I couldn’t fight we might as
well just sit down and wait for the infected to find us.  My, I was in a cheery
mood.

Moving quickly this time, I wasn’t worried about females
stalking us.  I didn’t know if we had killed all of them except for the one I
had seen on top of the shelves, but for some reason I read into her look that she
was letting us win this engagement and was backing off.  Maybe it was just
optimism, which was in pretty short supply right now, but I didn’t think we’d
have to deal with any more attacks while in the warehouse.  Female attacks, I
clarified for myself as a small group of males wandered into an intersection
ahead of us.  I put them down quickly and kept us moving.

A couple of times I had to stop and put a hand on Rachel’s
arm to keep her upright, but she kept moving without complaint.  I knew she was
hurting, dizzy, weak and disoriented, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do
about it.  She would get better, but only with time.  Ideally that would be
with time and rest, but we had a ways to go before we could think about
resting.

Reaching the aisle where I had left Rachel’s pack, I moved
quickly to it and scooped it up.  Turning to help her put it on I saw her sway
slightly just standing there and realized there was no way I could put the
weight on her back.  While I was trying to think of a solution, Dog growled and
I turned to look down the aisle towards the front of the warehouse.  A large
group of males, more than 20 and I quit counting, were shambling directly
towards us.  I turned and looked at the back of the warehouse and for the
moment the aisle was clear. 

Dropping Rachel’s pack to the floor I extended the shoulder
straps to their full length, stood and swung it over my left arm and on top of
my pack.  The extra weight made me shuffle sideways but I caught my balance and
got my right arm through its strap and secured the pack in place.  In the
scheme of things Rachel’s pack wasn’t that much extra weight, only about 65
pounds at this point, but it felt like 200.  Sucking it up, I got us moving
again.  Rachel swayed as she moved and I felt like I was barely plodding along with
the extra weight.  The result was we couldn’t outpace the males following us
and were just barely able to maintain our distance.  I thought about turning
and eliminating the threat, but ammunition isn’t endless and I had already
expended a lot getting us this far.  I didn’t know when we’d be able to
resupply so it was definitely time for conservation.

We kept moving and I was splitting my attention between the
aisle ahead of us, the males pursuing and Rachel’s progress.  She was keeping
pace with me but walked like a drunk, seemingly unable to travel in a straight
line.  I was worried about her, worried about the concussion, but knew there
was nothing I could do other than get her to safety so she could rest and heal. 

Sensing our urgency, Dog had moved ahead of us and was
checking each intersection before we arrived so we could keep pushing.  He was
fifty feet in front of me when he reached the rearmost row in the warehouse, a
solid wall ahead of him.  I watched him check the area visually, then raise his
nose in the air for a moment before he turned to look at me.  The row was
clear.

Reaching Dog I paused to look for an exit, Rachel taking the
opportunity to lean her shoulder against the wall.  The back of the warehouse
was piled with broken and empty pallets, forklift parts, giant rolls of plastic
shrink wrap and myriad other items I didn’t bother to try and identify.  What I
didn’t see was an exit, but I knew one had to be there.  Modern fire codes
would require them and this looked like a busy enterprise that wouldn’t want to
risk getting shut down by the fire marshal.  Glancing back at the approaching
males I grabbed Rachel’s arm and got us moving along the wall in search of a
door.

We had to pick our way through the junk that had been
stacked against the wall and spilled out across the floor.  Dog moved through
with little effort, seeming too nimble for an animal his size, but Rachel
struggled and I was worried about turning or breaking an ankle with all the
weight on my back.  The only positive news was the infected males would be
slowed down at least as much since they were walking blind.  Looking behind us
I saw the first one round the corner and start bumping along the wall in our
wake.  Soon the rest of his buddies stumbled into sight and followed.

Several spools of shrink wrap were leaned up against the
wall, the four foot long empty cardboard tubes that had held the plastic lying
on the floor.  Rachel stepped over one of these tubes but didn’t lift her foot
high enough and brought her weight down too early.  The round tube rolled out
from under her and she tumbled to the floor.  As she was falling I had reached
out to grab her but only succeeded in falling with her as I overbalanced the
load I was carrying.  We made a lot of racket falling and the approaching males
got excited and started snarling and growling in anticipation of a meal.  They
were still far enough away that I didn’t want to start expending ammo, but soon
I wouldn’t have a choice.

I clambered back to my feet, pulled Rachel up with me and
started moving again.  This time I shuffled my feet, kicking the tubes out of
the way as I went so Rachel had clear footing as she followed me.  I was
holding my rifle by the pistol grip with my right hand and had a firm grip on
her with my left hand as we moved.  If we stumbled and fell again I’d have no
choice but to start thinning the herd that was in pursuit.

There was another lightning flash and ahead I could see
three figures standing at the end of an intersection frozen in place by the
strobe of lightning.  More males.  Bad news.  The good news was they were
standing next to what looked like a roll up door.  Pushing myself I picked up
the pace, dragging Rachel to keep her with me.  Dog stayed slightly to our
front, still clearing each intersection as we came to it.  Two intersections to
go before we reached the roll door Dog suddenly growled and leapt to the side
into an aisle.  I lost sight of him but could hear him fighting.  Wanting to
run forward to help in case he was in trouble I glanced back to see how Rachel
was doing and barely had time to react.

The female I had seen on top of the shelves earlier was
charging directly at us from behind and was no more than a dozen feet away. 
Leaping distance.  Yanking Rachel to the side I spun as the female launched
herself at us.  I have fast reactions and would normally have been able to
complete the turn to meet her attack, but all the weight of the packs was
dragging me down and I didn’t make it.  I did get Rachel out of the way, noting
she fell into a pile of packing material a split second before the female
slammed into my side.  She knocked me over and I landed on my right shoulder,
rifle popping free from my grip and sliding to the end of the sling that was
around my upper body.

On my side with the two packs preventing me from rolling I
knew I was in trouble.  My right arm was trapped under my body and I couldn’t
get it out as the female levered my left hand aside and lunged for my throat. 
Seeing the bite coming I tucked my chin to my chest as hard as I could and
fought to get my arms into action but she succeeded in getting her teeth locked
on to the side of my neck.  I can’t say it hurt that bad when she bit in and
tore a piece of flesh out of me, but like any other combat wound that was
because of all the adrenaline in my system.  After the fight, if there was an
after, it would hurt like a bitch.

Feeling part of my body being bitten off sent an additional
surge of adrenaline into my blood, and frankly pissed me off.  With a roar I
lifted my chin and smashed the side of my head into the female’s face, feeling
her nose and probably one of her eye orbits shatter from the blow.  Her grip
didn’t falter but she paused in trying to bite me again and I slammed my head
into the same spot on her face a second time then levered with my left arm.  I
thought I was about to get an advantage when she shifted her grip and lunged at
the side of my face with her teeth.  Jerking my head around I avoided the bite
but felt her teeth break through the skin on my scalp and tear long furrows
down the side of my head.

She shifted again in preparation for taking another bite but
before she could lunge there was the sound of a suppressed rifle right next to
my ear and her head deformed for a heartbeat before the side of it blew out and
sprayed the floor with blood and brains.  The skin on the side of my head was
burning from spent gun powder and I didn’t have to look to know that Rachel had
shot the infected with her rifle and the muzzle had only been about a foot from
my head when she pulled the trigger.  Thankful she hadn’t had a wave of
dizziness at the moment she fired, I shoved the corpse off of me and got to my
feet as fast as I could.

The males that had been following us had closed most of the
ground while I was occupied with the female and I had to bring my rifle up and
start dropping bodies.  Half way through I changed magazines and noted that I
was down to five spares, or only 150 rounds.  When the last male fell I reached
down and pulled Rachel to her feet.  She looked marginally better and gave me a
wan smile when she saw my wounds.

“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”  She said, gesturing at
my head.

“We’ll worry about that later.”  I turned and started
looking for Dog.  Not seeing him right away, a thrill of concern passed over me
and I headed for the aisle I had seen him go down just before the female
attacked.  Before I got there Dog came walking into the intersection, covered
in blood and gore.  He looked OK, then I noticed the last few inches of his
tail was missing.  He trotted up to me and nuzzled my hand for petting. 
Rubbing his blood soaked head I quickly checked him for injuries but all I
could see wrong was the missing part of his tail.  Blood was flowing freely,
but no worse than my injuries and we had to get moving.

The males that had been standing near the door were coming
our way, drawn by the sounds of fighting.  Even though I was uncomfortably low
on ammo, I didn’t think any of us needed another hand to hand fight at the
moment, so I shot each of them as we approached.  As we passed the bodies I
turned to make sure Rachel didn’t stumble over them but she seemed more alert
and steadier on her feet.  I still kept half an eye on her, but was pleased to
see her moving with more assurance. 

Reaching the door I cursed when I found a heavy chain and
padlock had been used to secure it.  This was a large, commercial duty padlock
made from case hardened steel and I didn’t even bother to try shooting it off
with my rifle.  It would have been a waste of bullets.  However, the frame on
the door the chain was looped through was only made of the same rolled metal
that the door was made of.  Not surprising, really.  Reminded me of a friend
who after a burglary had installed two massive, high security deadbolts on his
front door.  The only problem was the door was made of wood and the next time
his house was broken into the burglars had used a cordless saw and cut the door
around the dead bolts.

I wished for that saw, but settled for pressing the muzzle
of the rifle against the thin metal and firing three rounds in burst mode.  The
metal tore apart and with some force I was able to rip the heavy chain the rest
of the way free.  Quickly slapping the two security pegs to the open position I
raised the door a foot as I knelt down to look through the opening.  Dark and
rain.  No infected in sight.  Back on my feet I rolled the door the rest of the
way up and waved Dog and Rachel through, then followed them and turned to lower
the door.

Turning back to survey the area we had just moved into, I
raised my rifle when a small pickup pulled up to the elevated dock where we
stood.  The doors popped open and two men wearing police uniforms stepped out
but stayed behind the doors of the truck.  Dog growled but held his position
next to Rachel who was standing at the edge of the dock, closest to the cops. 
Finally the one on the passenger side stepped into the open with his hands held
away from his holstered pistol and took a couple of steps towards us.  He was
dressed in riot gear, right down to a helmet with face guard which was lowered
into place completely masking his features.

“It’s OK, folks.  We’re here to rescue you.”  He shouted out
to be heard over the rain.

“Aren’t you a little short for a storm trooper?”  Rachel
answered.  I just stared at her as she appeared to be trying very hard to not
look at me and laugh.  Bitch.