The North: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

“How are we doing for distance now, Sid?” I shouted.

There was a short pause and then Sid answered. “Jesus – we’re within range. He’s maybe eight hundred meters back.”

“Any smoke left?” I asked.

“Three shots left on the right dischargers. What’s the plan?”

“The plan is we get up another screen and I’m going to jump out of the carrier into the ditch.”

The radio squawked. “Don’t you freaking do it, Dave. He’ll mow you down!”

I clenched my jaw tightly as I glanced back to the jump seat where Dawson used to sit. My idea was a massive risk and entirely suicidal, but it was all I had. I pressed the intercom button. “Sid, get ready to fire off that smoke on my mark. Stand by.”

“Roger that,” he answered. I quickly unplugged my headset and raced to the back of the APC, climbed onto the left rear jump seat and rolled back the tarp on the floor. Beneath it was a fiberglass case, containing two 84mm high explosive anti-tank rockets. I quickly sliced off the safety wire that sealed the box and flipped it open. Inside were two plastic tubes about as long as my arm. I lifted one out of the box and placed it between my knees, giving it a sharp twist to the right. The packing tube came off, exposing a long black cylinder with a yellow band painted across the shiny surface. I handed the anti-tank round to Dawn-Marie as I spun around and pulled the rigging off the Carl Gustav recoilless rifle stowed just underneath the hatch door. It was clumsy, heavy and usually a two-man-operated weapon, but my second in command was dead and we’d all be joining her if I didn’t get the weapon loaded quickly.

I glanced up at the sniper, whose face had turned ashen. He must have known all along there would be a Cougar coming out of the coulee at some point. “Your buddies are hot on our tail. How many are in that Cougar?”

“The driver and crew commander,” he said, staring at the weapon.

“And what’s down inside that coulee?”

“Unit outpost,” he answered.

“How many?”

“A couple of dozen.”

“All civilians?”

He shook his head.

I glanced at Dawn-Marie and she gave me a sharp nod. There was a frightened look in her eyes. I had a hunch that she too knew what was down inside that coulee. It would have been nice if she’d have told me before we’d left the hide.

“Is he lying to me, Dawn-Marie?” I asked as I slid the long projectile into the firing tube.

“No – it’s an outpost. At least, that’s what our handlers told us. They threatened to send us there if we broke any of Eden’s laws.”

I looked at the sniper and remembered the coordinates inside the field message pad I’d found on the dead spotter. I wanted to question him about the pad’s contents but there wasn’t any time – this was confirmed by Sid’s shrill voice blasting down from the turret.

“Five hundred meters, Dave!”
Sid hollered.
“If you’re going to do something, you’d better freaking do it now!”

“Who is Sunray?”
I barked, my eyes never leaving the sniper.
“Who is your commander – is he down in the coulee?”

Kate’s killer must have known his number was just about up. His lips arched up into a cruel smile and he started to chuckle. Dawn-Marie bashed him in the side of the head with our first aid kit, and his giggling morphed into a fit of laughter.

“Answer him!”
Dawn-Marie snapped.

The sniper shifted his gaze to the front of the carrier “Freaking kids. You’re already dead, and you don’t even know it.”

I lunged at him, dropping the now fully-loaded recoilless rifle onto the floor of the carrier.

“Who is Sunray?”
I roared, shaking the man like a rag doll.
“Where is his location?”

He blinked a couple of times and stared me straight in the eye. “Sunray is Major J.T. Martins. Commander of the battle school. You won’t find him, because he’s on the move – he’s
always
on the move. You might as well all shoot yourselves right now – because when he gets his hands on you, you’ll be begging for that bullet.”

I’d heard enough. I cut the cable tie on his wrist and then slid over to the right rear door and flipped off the combat lock.

“Sid!” I bellowed. “Get your ass down from the turret, right now!”

Sid’s feet dropped down to the bottom of the turret cage. He squatted next to the sniper as I threw open the rear door; a jet of cold air rushed into the carrier, along with a heavy dusting of snow. I glared at the sniper with a look that could melt iron bars. “You killed my second,” I shouted over the wind. “You tried to kill me and your people have been trying to kill us ever since we set foot in Eden. The freaking creeps are the enemy, not breathers! You made your choice. Now I’m making mine.”

Sid Toomey drove a size 16 combat boot into the sniper’s shoulder. He toppled over the edge of the jump seat and out onto the snow-covered highway, his body barrel-rolling through a snow squall. Sid lifted his carbine and raised it to his shoulder.

“Kill that son of a bitch,” I snarled.

A pair of shots rang out. I didn’t bother to see if they’d hit their target.

Sid climbed back up into the turret as I plugged my headset into the intercom jack again. “Sid – fire off those remaining three smoke now!” I shouted, heaving the loaded Carl Gustav onto my lap. I swung my legs over the edge of the rear door, ignoring the snow that was blowing into my face.

“Smoke’s away!” Sid shouted.

“Doug, slow this pig down to a crawl – I’m getting out!” I bellowed.

I saw him raise his thumb and seconds later the engine retarder brake kicked in with a deafening metallic shriek. I looked at Dawn-Marie. “When I jump out, close this freaking door and tell the driver to floor it. He’s in charge now – got it?”

She looked at me nervously and gave me a short, quick nod. “Tell the gunner to keep his eyes on the rear of the carrier. If he sees that I’ve taken down that Cougar, tell them double back and get me.”

“And if you don’t?” she asked. Her voice was shaking.

I gazed out the back door to see that the entire highway behind us was covered by a thick blanket of white smoke. The carrier was now moving at a walking pace, so I hopped out the back, hefting the recoilless rifle onto my shoulder.

“Then it won’t matter,” I said, pushing on the thinly-armored door. “Now go!”

The door shut with a loud clang and the carrier took off, kicking up another cloud of snow in its wake. I had one shot – one single chance to destroy the light tank. I wasn’t going to waste it. Under the cover of our smoke screen, I raced across the highway and into a ditch, and cocked the Carl Gustav. The sound of the Cougar’s engine echoed across the empty farmland as it drew closer. I dropped into the prone position and heaved the anti-tank gun onto my shoulder. I could feel the vibration of the Cougar’s weight shaking the ground underneath my chest, and I took a deep breath, peering into the telescopic sight on the side of the firing tube.

What happened next would decide whether I lived or died. Whether my team would make it through another day and whether I failed my sister Jo. My heart was hammering as fast as a two-stroke engine and my throat was sandpaper dry. I gulped back a mouthful of cold air as the Cougar rolled past, temporarily blinding me with a face full of snow. I quickly shot up on one knee and lined up the crosshair with the enemy’s rear doors. Exhaling slowly, I watched the cross hairs slowly drop until they were parallel with the base of the hull.

“This is for you, Kate,” I whispered as I squeezed the trigger.

A jet of intense heat burst out of the back of the gun as the anti-tank round thundered up the highway. There was a bright yellow-orange flash, followed less than a second later by an explosion that shook the ground beneath me. The Cougar rolled to a screeching halt. I watched the rear doors flying through the air, landing on the pavement about 50 feet away from the burning vehicle.

And then it brewed up.

Liquid fire poured out the sides of the turret as a man engulfed in flames scrambled out of his hatch. He screamed in an inhuman voice as he fell over the side of the burning machine, landing face-first on the pavement. He didn’t get up. Thick black smoke filled the air as I lowered the gun. I started walking up the highway in a scene better suited to an action movie.

I’d just ended the lives of three men in less than five minutes and I’d done it without an ounce of remorse.

I knew what was down in the coulee, but that knowledge had come at a terrible cost. Kate Dawson was dead, and my little sister’s innocence was dying as well.

We weren’t going to make it to Sanctuary Base. I knew that now. If we had any hope of surviving and rebuilding our lives, we had to destroy Eden. The only question left was how to find Sunray.

And kill him.

Journal Entry: 17 NOVEMBER 01:30 HRS ZULU

I’m scared to death. We all are. Doug picked me up shortly after I destroyed the Cougar. I left Cruze in charge of both teams while I took a few minutes to get a grip on my nerves. I can’t stop shaking. I’ve had small tremors in my hands ever since our close call outside Airdrie and the loss of Kate Dawson is fucking killing me. I actually burst out bawling, but I buried my head in my lap so that nobody would see. The engine muffled the sound of my sobbing, but I think Doug knew that I needed a moment – he got on the radio to tell Cruze to find us a new hide on the map.

Sid probably knew about my little case of shell shock, too, but he didn’t say anything about it. I wasn’t in my right mind. It’s possible that I’m still not in my right mind as I write this. I can’t sleep – all I can think about is Kate and how she didn’t stand a chance against that sniper. Maybe I should have ditched Dawn-Marie – had I done so, Dawson would still be here. I’d have accepted her death a lot easier, if it had come during close quarter combat with the creeps or in a firefight where we could see the enemy who was shooting at us. But a sniper round to the head was so arbitrary. She deserved a better death than that.

Dawn-Marie just went to sleep. She’s been up all night talking to me about what led her to where she is now, stuck inside an APC and clinging to the faint hope that we might somehow live through this. Me, I’m beginning doubt our chances. We’ve learned that Sunray is a full-blown infantry Major – the commander of the Battle School in Wainwright

 Why didn’t he get assigned to a command position with a field unit after Day Zero happened?  Most of his troops would have been mustered – so why not him? And what about his current force? I don’t know a huge amount about the Battle School, but I do know there were more recruits than trained soldiers. The training cadre were regulars – I wonder how many were left up in Wainwright when the end came.

I feel like I can’t compete against someone with that kind of experience. I can shoot, I can patrol, I’ve dug a few trenches and helped build a full defensive position, but that’s pretty much it. I picked up a few tricks from Sergeant Green during the six-month siege at the armory, though. I know how to wrap an explosive charge and set it off. I know how to read a map – barely. I’ve learned reading the ground in front of you comes with experience, and that I’m still a noob.

 We’re all noobs, and that’s probably why I’m suddenly worried about whether we’re going to make it. Even if Sunray’s people are as inexperienced as my team, at least they have a leader who knows what to do next. Sunray is a senior officer – that means he’s been in the regular force for at least ten years. He’s probably seen combat and he knows how to act when he’s under fire. I’ve only had a couple of days to learn how to think on my feet in a combat situation – nothing like Sunray.

Well, I guess I should count creeps in all of this though they only have one tactic – swarming.

Actually we haven’t seen any groups of creeps since Airdrie. They’re likely confined to the built-up areas – Dawn-Marie said Sunray’s people have been pretty thorough in cleaning up any stragglers that wander into Eden. She knows a hell of a lot about Sunray’s people and how he operates. Like, a ton. Still, I wonder whether she’s telling us everything we need to know or if it’s possible that I’m being played. Then again, she sure as hell knew that sniper and her story of girls getting raped? Maybe that explains her reaction when we captured him … maybe I should have let her shoot him instead of Sid.

She’s useful for now … I think. Damn, I don’t know if she is or isn’t. I’m going to put things to a vote as to what we should do with her because something just isn’t sitting right with me.

I hope to hell that will satisfy Sid because most of his resentment is aimed squarely at me. He blames me for Kate’s death and maybe in a way, I’m also blaming myself.

It’s getting colder outside – I think it’s close to minus 20 right now. The Siberian Express must have rolled in. Only on the Canadian prairie can you count on sub-zero temperatures at the end of November.

            Cruze picked a really good hide – a copse of trees at least a square kilometer in size, a few clicks from the coulee.  Actually, the fact that it’s snowing outside is a Godsend at this point, because freshly-fallen snow covers up vehicle tracks. Everyone is breathing a little bit easier because of that. We hauled out the winter camouflage nets and covered our vehicles to break up their outlines, so we’re well hidden.  We’re going on a reconnaissance patrol in a few minutes. Me, Melanie Dixon and Kenny Howard. Cruze is going to keep things together back here in the hide, Sid is catching some kip and Doug is going on sentry.

            I’m still shaking. I can’t seem to make it stop and I don’t want anyone to know how bad this is getting. That’s why I’m going to let Mel navigate when we go out on patrol. Kenny and I will provide security. We’re going in light, carrying about 120 rounds of 5.56 millimeter ammo for our carbines and one hand grenade each. We’re going to be dressed from head to foot in our winter whites, including mukluks and wind pants. We need to make it into that coulee and try and figure out what kind of outpost is down there – their strength, their weapons, any defensive traps, whether the bridge is wired with explosives. And we need to make it out alive. There aren’t many physical obstacles to cross according to the map, and there’s cloud cover, so it’ll be darker than on a moonlit night. I think I might have forgotten what the moon looks like. I can’t remember when the last time was I saw it.

            We’re leaving in 15 minutes. I’m bombed up, I’ve got the first aid kit and I’ve actually managed to stomach a hot meal. It wasn’t a ham omelet, either. I had Salisbury steak and a mug of instant chicken noodle soup.

***

We did a last check on each other before we headed out. Mel and Kenny had stuck strips of white adhesive tape along their carbines, and still had enough left in the roll that I could do mine properly too. Each of us was dressed in white nylon camouflage shirts and pants that covered our combat fatigues. We all wore white balaclavas as well, so really the three of us looked like snowmen. Each of us jumped and down a few times and listened for anything that made loud noises; all that I heard was the thump, thump, thump, of their water bottles and one magazine pouch each, holding their three other clips of ammunition.

“Okay guys,” I whispered. “We’re good to go. Are we all ready for this?”
“Ready,” said Mel, as she pulled the balaclava over her face.

“I was born ready,” said Kenny, as he slipped a 30 round magazine into his carbine. “You know … sort of.”

I nodded. “Good. We’ll zigzag in open country, Mel. I know this is going to add a couple of clicks to the route, but we’ll be leaving tracks and we don’t need a straight line back to the hide.”

“I know,” she whispered back. “I’ll set up the ORV once we’re in the bush line for the coulee. I’ve also got an alternate route back – I hope to hell Cruze has the coffee on. It’s flipping cold out tonight.”

“Freaking right it’s cold,” I answered. “Kenny, are there fresh batteries in the night sight?”

He held out the night vision scope and said, “Yeah – I just popped in four fresh D-Cells and tested it. I’m good to go.”

“Okay … noise discipline, guys. We’ve all done patrolling before when we were training, but this time it’s the real deal. There’s every reason to expect they’ll have set up trip flares or obstacles. We’ll move in, spend about 30 minutes scoping the area out, and then haul our asses back to the hide.”

The pair nodded in unison as I pulled the balaclava down over my face and exhaled heavily. “All right, let’s get on with it.”

I wasn’t carrying the map this time – that was Mel Dixon’s job. I was dead dog tired. By rights, I shouldn’t have been going out on a patrol at all, but I was on edge. I needed to see with my own eyes what was down in that coulee. We left the hide at two o’clock in the morning. The snow crunched beneath our feet with every step. If Sunray was half the commander he’d been made out to be, he’d know by now that a military element was in his territory, so he should be expecting reconnaissance. At the same time, we should be expecting a patrol to come take a good hard look at what my team was up to. All I could hope for was that it wouldn’t be tonight.

It can be gloomy, going out on a patrol at two o’clock in the morning, but we weren’t feeling it. Our first stop was an observation post on the forward edge of the hide. Under normal circumstances there’d be a slit trench or shell scrape dug into the ground and covered with good camouflage. Because we’d only pulled into the hide a few hours earlier, this OP would simply be a well-camouflaged member of our team – Doug Manybears – lying in a snow drift, armed with his personal weapon and the second of our night vision scopes. We scurried up to the OP and dropped onto our bellies, keeping a watchful eye for any movement in the distance.

“How’s it looking, Doug?” I asked as I gazed out into the darkness. Snow was falling with large puffy flakes. In another time and place, a person might have thought they were pretty.

“All’s quiet from what I can tell,” he whispered. “A lot of deer out there, though. I guess the creeps don’t like to eat venison.”

“They’ll eat anything that breathes,” I said. “We’re heading out now, and we don’t expect to be back until just before first light – probably around seven in the morning. We’re relying on you to keep the team safe while we’re gone. If any creeps come staggering through here, bash them. No guns.”

He lifted the night sight back to his eyes and peered out. “And what if any of the Sunray peeps decide to come at us?”

“Then you listen to Cruze. Got it?”

He nodded. “Yup. You guys better get a move on, be safe and good luck.”

“Thanks, man,” I said, motioning for Mel to take the lead. She doubled out in front of the OP and pulled out her compass. “Keep warm.”

Mel Dixon aimed her Silva Compass out in front of her nose and shot a bearing. In seconds, she’d stuffed the compass underneath her white camouflage shirt and motioned for the two of us to follow.  We’d zigzag across open country, presenting as little silhouette as possible. Our first objective was a swamp about 1000m from the hide. The next was a small copse of trees about 1500m before the edge of the coulee. The last leg would take us 800m into the thick woods on its perimeter.

Our objective rendezvous point was about 300m south of the highway, cutting very close to any possible defensive traps. But if the sniper’s information was accurate the action was in the belly of the coulee. I felt confident that Mel would get us to our ORV safely. After that, it was anything can happen time.

We pushed on, carrying a quick pace in the darkness. A few inches of snow had fallen since we established the hide. At least the wind had died down. I kept my eyes focused on the arc of fire to my right. Every few minutes I’d look over my shoulder to see Kenny Howard about 10 meters behind me. He had the worst job on the patrol; keeping a watchful eye for anything that might come up on us from the rear. That meant he’d have to walk backwards every few minutes, and on more than one occasion he tripped and landed flat on his back.

We ducked underneath a cattle fence and pressed on, Mel checking her map every few hundred meters or so. After about 30 minutes of trudging over uneven ground, I spotted a slight depression in a farmer’s field that stretched for about 200m in either direction. Thick stalks of weeds and bramble jutted up from the snow, so we moved alongside them and dropped to one knee. Mel Dixon doubled back to my position and we quickly examined the map.

“This is the swamp,” she whispered. Her voice was so quiet that I could hardly hear her.

“Good,” I said, taking a quick glance at the map underneath a dot of red light. “Let’s get moving on the second leg.”

She quickly oriented the map to the ground and then shot a bearing. Within seconds we were back on our feet, hugging the edge of the swamp.

We had 1500m of open ground to cover, and now the wind had picked up. The icy breeze still somehow managed to penetrate my thick wool balaclava. I was warm from the physical activity, but every now and again, I’d feel a finger of cold stabbing at the back of my neck or blowing up underneath my parka. I didn’t bother checking my watch – time seems frozen somehow when you’re on a patrol. And your eyes play tricks with you. Shadows appear to be living things that move with the grace of a ghost. Tiny squalls of snow drifting across the open fields came alive with every sharp gust of wind, dancing and twirling like miniature tornadoes, and disappearing when the wind changes direction.

Mel pushed on through a head wind like an ice breaker cutting through pack ice. Her eyes never left her objective on the horizon. Every few minutes, she’d raise a hand and we’d drop to one knee and listen. All that I could hear was the sound of that icy breeze scraping against the snow and kicking up miniature snowstorms that blew across our feet.

We made it to our second objective intact – Kenny didn’t land on his back even once. We skirted around the edge of the copse, careful not to trip on any low growth or deadwood. In the distance I could see the silhouette of the forested area that formed the coulee’s border, and this time we waited a full fifteen minutes before pressing on.

Something was making a sound inside the small wood. My first hunch was we’d stumbled into some deer, but they would have bolted into the night. It was a slow, repetitive snapping sound – that’s the only way I could describe it. After about two minutes, we found the source of it: a lone creep lying against a tree. Snow had blanketed its legs, and its arms were stretched ready to ensnare the unsuspecting traveler. Only this creep was barely moving; its limbs freezing up as the temperature dropped. We kept our distance and gazed out at the creature. Its film-covered eyes stared straight at us and if it had been a few degrees warmer, the monster would have been on us by now.