The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation (12 page)

Team Two, which led by Specialist Gardner, would stay in the rear and be our reinforcements.  He, Chad, Daniel and Jenna loaded up in Jenna’s truck after Campbell’s mission brief.

Fish and I got into our truck.  Campbell rode in Big Red with Enrique driving, and Team Three loaded in the F350.  Cecil decided to drive since he knew the town better than the two soldiers.

Fish told me to drive and soon we had a convoy heading back into the city.  We were in the lead with Big Red behind us, followed by the other two trucks.

As we pulled onto the road, Fish turned to me.

“I’m only going to say this once, kid…  I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?” I said, confused.

“I said I was only going to say it once,” he growled.

“I mean… for what?” I asked hesitantly.

He let out a deep breath.  “For last night.  I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.  Besides,” he turned to look out the window, “you were right.”

“I was?”  Again, I was perplexed. 

“My wife died when she got infected.  I know that.  It’s just…” he paused.  “It’s just that finding out so much about these damned scabs...  I always knew they were smart, but I guess learning they group up in packs and have some sort of memory got to me.”

“Is that why you were out of it at the Ace Hardware compound?” I asked cautiously.

“You could say that.  It kinda hit me hard.  I’ve always given the scabs credit for being cunning.  I just thought they were a ‘roided up type of Zulu, not…”

“Not a whole new species,” I finished for him.  It was the only thing I could classify them as.  I didn’t know at the time how right I was, though.

“Yeah, something like that.”  I noticed Fish fiddle with his wedding ring as he spoke.  “I guess, for a moment, I thought there could have been something left in their heads from who they use to be.  I went from thinking I saved my wife to I murdered her.”  He abruptly changed the subject.  “What did you think of our pow-wow this morning?”

“Umm, I think it went pretty good.  Well, except for the part with Gonzales,” I said with a grin.

“What are you talking about?” he chuckled.  “That was the best part.”

The tone of his voice made me realize something.

“You planned for that to happen, didn’t you?” I asked astonished.

“Of course I did.  I knew that prick would say something stupid.  That’s why I told the Captain to have the rest of the troops on guard duty and have Gonzo there.”

I started to slow the truck.  We were about a mile away from the highway overpass that was the border of the city.

“Well, I think you made your point to him,” I said, referring to Gonzales.

“Didn’t want to make my point to
just
him,” he grinned.

Now I completely understood.  That show of force passed a message not just to the disruptive Private, but to everyone else present.  We were now a military camp, and protocols were to be followed or else.  Fish was the ‘or else’.  It was going to be like any other military unit.  Basic discipline would be handed out by the Sergeants.  And of all the people of Camp Holly, Fish was the one person I was sure no one wanted to cross.

I came to a stop about a hundred yards in front of the overpass.  The sun had finally risen, releasing a grey ominous light over the horizon.  The cloud cover was thick and the coppery smell of rain was in the air. 

As we surveyed the overpass, everyone else exited their respective vehicles and gathered around our truck.  Through binoculars, numerous zombies could be seen shuffling about in the other side of the highway.

“It’s not exactly free skies, sir,” Fish commented.

“Yeah…” Campbell looked back at Enrique.  He seemed restless, as if he wanted us to hurry up. 

Thunder echoed behind us in the distance.

“That’s a good sign,” Gardner said.  The Specialist was standing near Cecil.  I noticed Cecil’s eyes were on Chad.  There was a sense that he hated the former convict. 

“Question is, do we wait for the rain?” Fish said.  “True, the Zulus will scatter, especially when the thunder and lightning is over them.  But then it’s scab weather.”

“Scab weather?” Gardner asked.

“He means that scabs aren’t too keen on getting eaten by Z’s either.  If the zombies are taking cover, then the scabs are free to run the streets,” Cecil explained.

“Wow, you were a detective,” Fish said sarcastically.

“What do you suggest, Top?”  Campbell asked Fish.

“Well, sir, the way I see it, we have two choices.  The first is we go now while the dead-heads are out.  Big Red can pretty much cut a path through whatever hoards come out to greet us.  Problem is, they’re going to follow us to the post office.  It could be hell evacuating the survivors there with a few thousand Zulus breathing down our necks.”

“And the other option?” Campbell sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to be happy with that one any more than the first.

“We wait for that rain to come.  The Zulus will scatter and we have a clear path.  Of course, we take the chance of being noticed by any scab nearby.”  Fish leaned over to Campbell and whispered, “Not to mention that the ones Pablo’s wife joined will probably be attacking the post office soon.”

Campbell nodded. 

“What’s that you keep fumbling with?” I heard Gardner ask Chad.  I looked over and saw the former convict was rubbing something on his chest through the tank top he wore.

Chad fished out a silver necklace with a cross.  “It’s my good luck charm,” he grinned.

“Really?” Gardner asked, smiling back.

“Yeah.  My mom gave it to me when I got out of prison.  She said it would keep me safe.”  Chad replaced the necklace.

“How’s that working out for you?” Cecil scoffed.

“Just fine, pig,” Chad retorted, facing the police officer.

“Can it, you two!” Fish barked, and then turned back to Campbell.  “What are your orders, sir?”

He turned and looked at the approaching low dark clouds that made the higher grey clouds appear bright in contrast.  They were getting closer and probably already over Camp Holly.  Flashes of thunder and lightning were ripping through them.

“Honestly, Top, I don’t think it matters.  Those clouds will be on us soon enough.  I say let’s get a head start now.  Chances are it will be pouring before we even reach the post office.”  Campbell nodded, more to himself than us.

“Roger that, sir,” Fish returned.  “Alright, mount up.  You know the plan.  Christian, you’re riding over-watch on Big Red.”

This part of the plan I wasn’t too fond of.  Big Red was going to take the lead to clear a path through any zombies with its heavy plow mounted on the front.  My job as ‘over-watch’ was to sit on top of Big Red with my rifle and alert the convoy of any problems I saw.  My secondary job was to make sure no zombies, or scabs for that matter, hitched a ride on any of our vehicles.  Fish would follow up solo in our truck, with the other two behind him.

Knowing scabs could hurl missile-like spears didn’t make me feel safe riding on the spine of the fire truck.  DJ had started to erect an enclosed metal defensive position on the top, but that was before we left the Ace Hardware compound.  There hadn’t been time to complete it since we had left.  I felt like a sitting duck.

But orders were orders, and I climbed on the back of the big beast and took up a firing position with my rifle. 

A month before, I would have been shaking with anxiety and fear.  Things were different now, though.  First, I was with a large group of armed fellow survivors and second, I think my mind was finally adapting to the new, hellish world we lived in.  I was as composed and prepared as I could be.

Chapter 10

The Postman Always Rings Twice

April 26
th
  Morning

Rain. 

We were only a mile into the city when the first drops fell from the sky.  It was a slow, steady drizzle for a short time, but then the whitewash came.  The downpour was so thick that you couldn’t see much beyond thirty feet or so.

The zombies were initially attracted to our small convoy.  Many tried to grab or attack our vehicles as we passed.  The initial light rain did little to discourage them.  Even the heavy thunder and occasional lightning bolt would not stop the closest ones from coming at us.  But it was the downpour that sent the rest into hiding. 

I still wasn’t sure how well their senses worked, or even if they worked on an entirely different scale than our own, but rain was definitely on the side of the living.  Unfortunately, scabs were living creatures as well.

Once we made it to the back roads, Fish brought his truck up to the front, guiding us towards the post office.  We moved slow and steady, avoiding debris lining the roads.

I was miserable and soaked to the bone.  Every bump and piece of garbage that the truck hit or ran over added a new bruise from hard, cold steel of the fire truck. 

With no letup in the rain, we pressed forward. 

We stopped in the middle of an intersection.  I peered at the street sign through the downpour and made out the name Minton Road.  I knew we were getting close.

The radio crackled, and it was hard to discern what was being said over the loud clatter of the rain off of Big Red’s hull.  I tried to push the earpiece further into my ear to make out the radio chatter, but it was all garbled.

Behind me, I saw Cecil pull off and head north into a parking lot.  I realized it was the West Melbourne Police Station.

Enrique pulled Big Red around Fish’s truck and proceeded to cross the street.  The outline of the post office started to form through the whitewash of rain as we drew closer.

The building was about the size of the Ace Hardware building we use to live in.  The wall built around our old compound was good, but it was nothing compared to what protected the back of the post office.  A tall, ten foot cinder block wall surrounded the back parking lot. 

A few zombies were huddled near the wall.  Others were huddled under the overhang of the post office building, mostly protected from the storm above. 

None of the dead-heads seemed to notice us as we stopped in front of the gate, however.  The weather must have been playing havoc on whatever sensory abilities they had.

The chain-link fence that made up the gate wasn’t the only thing stopping anyone or anything from getting inside.  Directly behind it was a short school bus parked sideways.  The bottom had large pieces of plywood fastened to it to prevent us from seeing underneath it.  The windows had been painted black and all were in the upright position.

Someone started talking in the radio again, but I still couldn’t make out what was being said.

“If you’re trying to talk to me, I can’t hear a damn thing!” I all but shouted into my transmitter.

I glared over the wall protecting the rear of the building, but didn’t see any movement.  There were some vehicles that seemed like they didn’t belong.  Other than that, there was nothing that I could make out through the torrential rain.

It was the same problem with the roof of the building.  I could make out some shapes, but for all I knew they could have been air conditioning units.  The building was also taller than Big Red, so I didn’t have a chance of seeing anyone that was kneeling or lying down.

I was startled when I saw Fish’s head appear.  He climbed halfway up the side of the truck and motioned me over.

“See anything?” he asked, almost yelling.

I shook my head no.

He nodded and then shouted, “Enrique and the Captain are going to make contact.  You and I are going to clear some of these Zulus out.  We don’t want them roaming around if the rain dies down.”

I grimaced and moved toward the front of the fire truck.  We had mounted a few sledgehammers, or breakers as we now called them, on the outside of the cab for quick use.  They were ideal for dealing with small groups of zombies.

I climbed down and joined Fish just as Enrique and Campbell met up with him.  Before I could hear what they were talking about, the two turned and walked to the gate.  Fish motioned for me to take the left and he moved to the right.

I saw at least five or six zombies scattered along the wall in the direction Fish was headed.  My side only had the two that were crouched up against the wall. 

The rain made my approach easier, but I was still worried they would notice me before I took my first swing.

Stop psyching yourself out.  Get on with it!
I told myself.

I swung hard at the closest zombie.  The head of the hammer smashed its skull into the concrete wall with a loud crack.  Small bits of blood and flesh had exploded on my pants and shirt.  My hands shook from the impact, but I recovered quickly and used the head of the hammer to push the other zombie off balance.  It stumbled and fell.

I brought the breaker back around over my shoulder, and finished off the zombie with one powerful golf stroke.

The head of the zombie came completely off and rolled twenty feet into the street.

I eyed the wood line running along the wall and didn’t see any movement.  That didn’t mean anything though.  A few dead-heads could be behind the brush and out of sight.  This is why I loved having Boomer around.

The rain continued to die down, but didn’t stop.  It was perfect weather for the living.  There was enough rain to keep the zombies at bay, but not so heavy as to impair our vision.

I could hear talking behind me and I turned to see Enrique and Campbell looking up at an open window on the bus.  Fish was approaching from the other side and joined the two of them. 

I turned and looked back in the woods.  I walked up closer to the brush and tapped the cinderblock wall a few times and waited.

Nothing.

I took that as a good sign and walked over to the others. 

“They okay, Sam,” Enrique was saying to the open window.

“Okay,” a baritone voice replied from inside the bus.  “Keep your weapons holstered.”

Enrique motioned for us to back up.  The bus’s engine roared to life and the vehicle moved just enough to open one of the gates.

Coming around the side of the bus was a short, skinny man about my age.  He wore a camouflage hat and carried a hunting rifle.

Behind him came a rather intimidating looking black man.  He was shirtless, revealing toned muscles under dark mocha skin, and his head was shaved bald.  He carried a Glock in one hand and a set of keys in the other.  This was Sam, the one Enrique had been talking to through the window.

“Where you been?” Kolin, the little redneck man, asked.

“Long story,” Enrique replied solemnly.

The greeting didn’t last much longer.  Sam opened the gate, eyeballing all of us as we walked in.  He mainly kept his glare fixed on Fish.  We made our way through a back parking lot strewn with cars, trash, and zombie corpses.  Each of the zombies had their heads pulverized.

Sam escorted us to the rear entrance while Kolin moved the bus back into position.  I noticed a figure on the roof wearing a large poncho, making it impossible to tell if it was male or female.  But I could see whoever it was carried a hunting rifle.

We entered the back door and Fish radioed Gardner to let him know we were in.

The smell inside the building rivaled the odor of the zombies.  It was the scent of sweat, feces, urine, and a touch of fear.  Most people inside appeared to have an aura of defeat around them. 

We met the leader of the group.  His name was Richard Marino.  He was in his fifties and though he was disheveled, he appeared to be in good condition. 

Rich was a nurse practitioner, or an ARNP, from what I was told.  They were specialists in the nursing field requiring as much schooling as doctors.

Campbell didn’t waste any time and started telling Rich the situation.  The other survivors that were in the building listened in horror as they learned of Enrique’s wife and how the scabs would return to where they knew prey would be.

Rich listened intently, his face growing dark with despair. 

Fish and I stood near the rear exit, scanning the back lot.

“Then it’s settled,” Rich told his group.  “Start packing.”

“Please try to hurry,” Campbell told them.  “The longer we stay here—”

A scream from outside cut Campbell off before he could finish.  Two gun shots rang out as the scream died. 

Fish immediately jumped on the radio.

“Gardner, SITREP? Over,” Fish said into his radio.

My earpiece rang, “Movement on the roof.  I think you have a scab up there, but it’s out of sight now.  Over.”

Fish raised his radio.  “Keep your distance, Specialist.  Get Jenna in the back of the truck to provide over-watch.  Over and out!”  Fish turned to me.  I was taking the safety off of my AR-15.

“Kid, you and Enrique get out to the bus.  If that other guy is still alive, tell him to move that thing back here to the loading ramp.  You two get Big Red ready to go!”

I nodded and ran to Enrique who was kneeling over a stack of bedding.  He shoved something in his pocket as I approached.

“Come on, Enrique,” I said, grabbing his arm.

He briefly hesitated then nodded.  We ran to the back door.  The rain was still coming down slowly and I could smell fresh gunpowder in the air.  Another shot rang out.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.  “We are going to the bus.  You take the lead and I’ll provide cover.”

“Y-you okay?” Enrique asked, his voice cracking as he spoke.

I finished pulling myself together and then answered.  “I’m fine.  Are you ready?” 

“Si,” he replied, though he looked more nervous than I did.

I followed close behind and instantly turned towards the roof as soon as I was out from under its cover.  No threats were in sight and the two of us continued around the side of the building.  My eyes tracked the edge of the roof with my rifle the entire time.

As we rounded the corner of the building in the direction of the bus, I saw the body of the person wearing the poncho draped over the edge of the roof, lifeless, a long spear impaled through the neck.

Enrique froze at the sight and I had to push him forward.  A rifle was sticking out of an open window on the bus.  A blast erupted as smoke and fire vented from the end of the barrel.

I turned back to the roof, but didn’t see anything.  If the scab was still lurking up there, it was out of my sight. 

“I’ll wait here,” I told Enrique when we made it to the bus.  He nodded at me and banged on the bus door.

“Kolin!  It me!” he shouted.  He waited for Kolin to respond and then disappeared into the bus.

I scanned the rooftop while I waited.  There still wasn’t any sign of a scab on the roof, but I knew there had to be one.

“Is that bus coming or what, kid?” Fish squawked through the radio.

Enrique jumped from the bus as it roared to life.

I keyed the transmitter.  “It’s on its way.  We’re moving outside the gate.” 

The bus heaved forward and then trudged through the parking lot to the back of the post office.

“Christian!” Enrique screamed just as something whooshed past my head.  A wooden spear made from a mop or broom handle landed twenty feet behind me.

I spun around and faced the gate.  Just outside I saw two scabs on top of Big Red.  The scab on the right was instantly recognizable.  He was wielding the lawnmower blade he had retrieved from Enrique the day before.  The scab was hunched over and staring at us as if he was a lion stalking prey.

Next to him was Enrique’s late wife, Irene.  She was completely naked except for some soiled shorts and a rope wrapped around her shoulder.  In each hand she held similar spears to the one that was hurled at me, with a few more that seemed to be strapped to her back by the rope.

I noticed Enrique hadn’t moved and Irene was raising another spear to throw.  I jumped to my right toward Enrique and knocked him to the ground.  On reflex, my AR-15 came up and the red dot sight filled my view.

She let the spear fly but I was moving sideways and it missed me by more than a few feet.  I let loose five or six rounds.  I missed Irene, but the other one’s leg buckled.  Both of them jumped off the back of Big Red, opposite of us.

“Let’s go!” I yelled at him as I covered our rear and moved outside the gate toward Big Red.

Enrique shot the lock off the fence and swung both gates open in one strained pull.  When he got within ten feet of the fire truck, he stopped.