The Reckoning - 02 (30 page)

“Sounds like he’s a better guy than you gave him credit for,” said another.

I didn’t stick around to hear the rest. I took the stairs to the roof as fast as I could and keyed open the door. Once I emerged on the roof, I began scanning the sky looking for the source of the jet noise. I didn’t have to look long. I could see a pair of fighters taking a slow turn around the city. I was afraid that they’d notice the convoy and take it out. I had nothing in my inventory that would allow me to take out a pair of fighter jets. I was going to have to improvise.

I ran to the edge of the building overlooking the Intake lot and positioned myself directly above the Humvee. Then I tied off the rope around an air conditioning unit and lay the coil on the edge of the roof. Giving the rope a hard yank to make sure the knot would hold, I nodded once in satisfaction and turned back to the circling jets.

They were now in formation and accelerating towards the main part of town. I knew they were on an attack run. Their path would take them right over the jail. If they were using fuel-air bombs, then it would take out the biggest part of downtown. I doubted that anything would survive, including us. I didn’t think the convoy was far enough away to escape, either. It was officially crunch time.

As the two jets came in on their attack run, I leveled the radar gun at them and engaged the beam. Instantly, both jets broke formation and hit their afterburners, climbing for sky. Their automatic systems launched chaff and a retaliatory strike. I knew I only had seconds before a pair of missiles took out the top of the jail.

Dropping the radar gun, I ran for the edge of the roof and the waiting rope. I snagged the rope and jumped off the edge of the roof, quickly wrapping a length of rope around my waist. I hoped that my estimate was good or I’d hit the roof of the Humvee with enough force to kill me and still have slack on the rope.

“Odin!” I bellowed as I fell, not sure if I was asking for protection or letting him know I was coming.

I fell for what seemed like an eternity. The rope went taught and yanked me to a stop with gut-wrenching force, just as the missiles hit the roof. I felt the pressure and heat wash over me as the top of the building went up in fire. I didn’t know if the Deputies inside had survived, but right then they weren’t my highest priority. I started to swing towards the building when the rope gave way.

I fell the remaining few feet to the top of the Humvee. I hit hard enough that it knocked the breath out
of me. Coughing, I rolled off the roof and onto the hood. I had only barely missed impaling myself on the SAW. I’d seen a zombie do that once and didn’t think I wanted to try it for myself. I rolled off of the hood and onto the ground. My ears were ringing and I threw up on the ground.

“Wylie,” screamed Spec-4. “Get in!”

I glanced up to see about a dozen
Shamblers
coming in through the intake gate. One of them began to shriek as soon as it saw me. I forced myself up on my hands and knees, then onto my feet by holding onto the front of the Humvee. I dropped the remains of the rope and steadied myself. Spec-4 popped up out of the turret and opened up on the crowd with the SAW. The
Shrieker
immediately went silent.

I found myself moving, as if my legs had a mind of their own. The driver’s door was already open for me. Spec-4 must have opened it when she got into the turret. Next thing I knew, I was inside and securing the door. The engine was already running as I t
urned to glance up at Spec-4.

“Get inside!” I yelled. “We’re out of here.”

I put it in gear and mashed the accelerator to the floor as Spec-4 climbed back inside, securing the hatch. I crushed my way through the zombies at the gate and out onto the street. Screeching a hard right, I raced after the convoy. As I was turning left at the intersection, I saw the jets make another pass and unleash their full fury onto the jail. My last glimpse of the building was one of utter destruction. It looked like the entire back half of the jail had collapsed, along with part of the courthouse next door.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Spec-4.

“I bought us some time,” I said, my mouth still tasting of bile. “Those jets were about to the bomb the shit out of the heart of the city.”

“So you thought it was a better idea to get them to shoot at you?”

“I used the radar gun to activate their threat alert system,” I said. “I didn’t expect the retaliatory strike would come so fast.”

Instead of replying, she just looked at me with wide eyes and shook her head. I couldn’t believe I’d survived it, either. Now we just had to catch up with the convoy.

“Do you think anyone survived that explosion?” she asked.

“Doubtful,” I replied. “I’m shocked that we did.”

“You’re one crazy son of a gun,” she said, scowling. “Tell me you didn’t plan that.”

“Actually, I thought I’d have more time and I’d just rappel down,” I said. “But when I saw those missiles streaking towards me, I knew I had better just grab the rope and jump for it.”

“Good thing you did,” she said. “You almost got bar-b-qued.”

“Don’t mention food,” I said. “My stomach is still heaving.”

“Serves you right,” she replied, scowling.

“Just keep an eye out for the convoy,” I said, grinning.

“
Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

-
Friedrich Nietzsche

We drove in silence for a few minutes. There were a lot of zombies on the move. They seemed to be heading towards the explosion. By the time they noticed us, we were well past them. When we reached the community college campus, it looked like we might get through unscathed. I drove over the edge of a roundabout that they’d placed at the front of the little college. I could see the tracks in the flower beds where the Hemmitts had smashed their way through. It served them right. I hate roundabouts.

Lightning lit up the overcast sky and it began to rain. It was a light sprinkle at first and then it began to pour down in heavy drops.
As we cleared the campus, I keyed up my radio and tried to reach the convoy. All I heard was static. Without the repeater towers, my radio didn’t have much range. Spec-4 just shrugged and reached for the mic to the SINCGARS. With a smug grin, she powered up the set and activated the mic.

“Rogue Six to convoy,” she said and released the transmit key.

There was no response.

“See,” I said, smiling. “Your fancy radio isn’t any better than my crappy one.”

“They must not have their sets on,” she replied, shaking her head. “The SINCGARS has a decent range.”

I shot across the intersection at National Avenue and didn’t slow down. We had the speed advantage over the rest of the convoy. One lone Humvee could move much faster than a heavily loaded convoy. When I made the turn onto the street that ran next to the National Guard Armory, I saw the tail end. They were just making the turn onto Division Street for our direct run to the Underground.

“829 to convoy,” I said into my mic.

“Wylie,” came the voice of Sheriff Daniels, “nice of you to join us.”

“We ran into a couple of delays,” I said, containing my temper. “It would have been nice to have had some help back there.”

“Sorry about that,” he replied. “I didn’t think there would be trouble.”

“I’ll tell you all about it once we reach the secure perimeter,” I said. “We have you in sight and should be on your six in less than a minute.”

“
Copy that,” said Corporal Winston. “I see you.”

I could see Winston in the turret of the rear Humvee. He was manning the SAW and constantly sweeping the sides of the road. Winston was a pro. When we pulled in behind him, he panned his SAW to the left side of the road and Spec-4 took the right side. I kept my eyes on the road and watched for signs of trouble.

“Hey Wylie, I just saw a
jingle-truck
,” said Cal Sanders over the radio.

“What the fuck is a
jingle-truck
?” I asked.

“Back in the ‘ghan,” he explained, “the locals would bolt all kinds of crap to their vehicles. It made them rattle
and jingle when they drove.”

“What did you just see?” I asked, almost yelling.

“I just saw a SUV in the parking lot of the grocery store with all kinds of metal bolted to it,” he said. “Looks like they were trying to armor it, or something.”

Suddenly, there was a huge
knot in the pit of my stomach. I was just crossing the intersection at Glenstone and could see the grocery store on my left. I didn’t see the truck, though. My mind started screaming a warning. I frantically keyed up the mic to try to warn everyone when I saw the smoke trail from what I knew was an RPG
[14]
. From the explosion, I knew it had hit a vehicle.

“Ambush!” I screamed into the mic.

I instantly heard the report of automatic weapons fire up ahead. I turned the wheel and slid into the far left lane. Up at the front of the convoy, I could see the wreckage of a Humvee still flipping over and burning. With a sense of dread, I realized that it was the lead Humvee. Cal Sanders wasted no time in raking the parking lot of the grocery store with his SAW. Spec-4 and Winston joined him, opening fire on the area that Cal was shooting at.

“All vehicles,” I practically screamed into the mic, “keep moving. Do not stop for anything! Gunny, get them the fuck out of here!”

“Copy,” said Gunny.

I could see the convoy accelerate and
continue. Sporadic weapons fire was striking some of the vehicles and a second RPG round struck the FedEx truck that Milkman was driving. It went up in a fireball, taking the three men inside of it straight to the next world on a funerary pyre of exploding ordinance. It came down on the passenger side and exploded a second time, completely engulfed in flames. We’d just lost good men and a truckload of food.

“Damn it!” I screamed. “All units, get moving. Don’t slow down for anything.”

In lieu of a response, the remaining vehicles just accelerated hard. Cal continued to rain down lead onto the parking lot until he was out of range. The Hemmitts had no problem continuing on, since nothing was big enough to stop them short of an RPG round. Corporal Winston continued to strafe the parking lot as his Humvee sped on after the convoy.

Spec-4 concentrated her fire on a panel van and a
modified pick-up that was in the
Freeman
style. The van exploded when she hit the fuel tank as the pick-up tried to make its escape. It didn’t make it far before she raked them with the SAW, as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. A quick glance and I could see that it was a two-man crew with RPG launchers. They were setting up to take a shot at us.

“
Wilder, on your right!”

She swung her fire
just as one of the
Freeman
let fly with his RPG. He had aimed slightly ahead of us, anticipating our position. No sooner had his rocket cleared the tube than Spec-4 walked her fire into them, cutting them both to ribbons. I slammed on the brakes and tried to avoid the incoming rocket, but I didn’t make it.

The projectile struck the front of our Humvee right above the driver’s side front tire. I felt the explosion before I heard it. Then there was the sensation of movement as it shredded the front end of the vehicle and sent us spinning. I struck my head on the steering wheel as we slammed into the burning wreckage of Milkman’s truck. I could already smell fuel and knew we didn’t have long to get out of the Humvee before it exploded.

Grabbing my pack, I shoved the door open and dove out. Spec-4 was lying forward on the roof. I could see blood on her face and she didn’t seem to be breathing. For a moment, I thought she was dead. The heavy rain had plastered her hair to her face, obscuring her eyes. The rain did nothing to stop the growing fires and I was expecting the fuel tanks to go at any second.

“Wilder!” I screamed, my ears still ringing from the explosion.

Dazed, she slowly raised her head and looked at me with confusion in her eyes.

“Wylie,” she said, slowly.

“We’ve got to move,” I shouted. “Come on!”

Slowly, she climbed out of the top of the turret and shook her head trying to clear it. I looked around quickly and saw that there had to be at least fifty zombies coming our way from several different directions. We didn’t have long before
they swarmed us. The Gods must have been smiling on us, because I didn’t see any
Sprinters
.

“Move it, C
orporal!” I bellowed in my loudest command voice.

That seemed to snap her out of her fog and she started moving faster. Fire was licking up from the hood and almost reaching the SAW when she turned to reach back into the Humvee for her pack. We didn’t have time to spare. I grabbed her by the calf and pulled her down from the roof.

“Screw the gear,” I snapped. “We’ve got to move, NOW!”

The only gear she had was her pistols and body armor. Her left leg nearly buckled as she tried to walk and I had to grab her to keep her from falling.
I could see blood soaking into the fabric of her left thigh. I glanced around quickly and saw only one building that looked even remotely defensible. It was a pawnshop and gun store across the road from us. The front door was steel and there weren’t any windows on the ground floor. Although it was a multi-leveled building, the roof at the back looked low enough for us to climb.

“Over there,” I said, pointing. “
Let’s move.”

I handed Spec-4 my M-4 and put her left arm around my neck, taking her weight on my shoulders. The closest zombies were still over a hundred yards away, but I was more concerned that some of the
Freemen
might have survived. We headed off towards the pawnshop as fast as we could go. Spec-4 couldn’t put any weight on her left leg. She could only lean on me and hobble along. She grimaced in pain with every step, but to her credit didn’t cry out.

We hadn’t made it more than a dozen yards when the Humvee exploded behind us. The blast threw us both onto our faces and sent us sprawling. Heat washed over us and I glanced back to see the burning debris that had once been our ride.
Fifty yards beyond it laid the wreckage of the Humvee that had belonged to Sheriff Daniels. Both Daniels and Shane were friends of mine. Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I thought of them and their families.

Forcing myself to my feet, I pulled Spec-4 up beside me. Once she was up, I got us moving
towards the back of the building again. It was going to be close. The closest group of zombies would be on us about the time we got there. There were only about a dozen of them, but that was twelve too many. Hel, with the shape we were both in two was too many.

Using her free hand,
Spec-4 started taking shots with the M-4. By the time we’d reached the back of the pawnshop, she’d cut the group down to six. The M-4 clicked empty and we didn’t have time for me to fish out another magazine for her to reload. We just had to keep moving. At the back of the shop was a trash dumpster. If we could reach it, we might have a shot at getting onto the roof.

“Leave me here,” she said, almost sobbing. “We’ll never make it.”

“Not a chance,” I said. “We make it together or not at all.”

She just looked at me with her pale blue eyes misty from tears and nodded. I pushed as hard as I could with Spec-4 struggling to keep up. When we made it to the dumpster, I had her grab hold of it while I tossed my pack up onto the roof. It hit me just as I let go that my shotgun was still attached to it. I didn’t have time to curse. The zombies were less than twenty yards away.

I lifted her up onto the trashcan and steadied it while she got her footing. With a lurch, she grabbed the edge of the roof and started scrambling to pull herself up. I grabbed her boot and pushed as hard as I could. Together we managed to get her enough lift to reach the edge. Seconds later, she was crawling onto the roof.

I glanced back towards the zombies. They were less than twenty
feet
away, now. I silently breathed a prayer of thanks that none of them had been
Sprinters
or we would never have made it. Still, there was no way I was going to have time to climb onto the roof before they grabbed me and pulled me back down. With a look of grim determination on my face, I pulled out the big Army Colt and switched it to my left hand. Then I pulled my hammer out of my belt and slipped the thong around my right wrist.

For as long as I could remember, I fought the rage that sometimes burned in my blood. My mother used to say I had “the Devil’s
own temper.” When I was a kid, it controlled me. I got into a lot of fights, growing up. As I grew, I learned to control it. To fight it down and keep it contained. This time, I didn’t fight it. I let it flow through my veins with reckless abandon. The burning vehicles in the background only added fuel to the fire of my rage. Those were funeral pyres for my friends. My rage erupted from me with volcanic fury.

With a cry that was more bestial than human, I charged the oncoming crowd of zombies. Although I held a pistol in my left hand, in my rage I forgot all about it.
Instinct took over and I waded into them to fight, hand to hand. I struck the lead zombie in the face with the full force of my hammer. The audible crunch of the skull only drove me on and I bellowed my fury in a voice as loud as the thunder, itself. As it flew over backwards, I was already spinning away and to the left.

As I came around, I
swung the hammer in a wide arc taking the next zombie in the side of the head. It struck with skull-crushing force and the second zombie fell beside the first. Another roar erupted as the battle-rage continued to scream through my veins. The third zombie grabbed me by the arm, but I twisted and stepped inside its reach. Swinging the hammer around and in an upward arc I slammed the thing in the chin, lifting it off of its feet. My vision grew tinged with red as my bloodlust grew. I let fly with another wordless scream of animalistic ferocity, whirling towards the next target.

Zombie number four stumbled over the body of zombie number three and I struck it in the back of the head as it fell.
The
Shamblers
seemed to be moving in slow motion as I struck it once more in the face, before it hit the ground. The next closest zombie was still nearly fifteen feet away. With a battle-cry that would wake the Gods, I turned and threw the hammer at zombie number five. It flew true, nailing it in the bridge of the nose. With the force of the tremendous impact, the bones in the face gave way and spewed the contends of the skull across the rain-soaked ground. The creature crumpled to the ground lifeless once more, and fell into a rapidly expanding puddle of rainwater with a big splash.