Verge of Extinction (Apex Predator Book 3) (26 page)

The humvee swerved left and then right again in an attempt to miss a few walking dead in the road.  “Where there this many zombies around last time you were here?” Jen asked.  He could hear the concern in her voice.  The last time she had been north of The Haven, was the day Mike had died.

“No,” he answered.  The scowl on his face told her all she needed to know.  He jerked the steering wheel left again.  “Shit!”  The next zombie did not fare as well as the previous.  SSgt Brown simply pressed the gas and knocked the unfortunate soul-less creature to the ground.  The tires of the big grey pickup truck behind them ended the ghoul’s unfelt shame.

Before they had left, he had briefed the group on his plan for getting on and off of the base.  The mass of moving grey flesh in front of him served to drive home the point that his plan was officially shot to shit.

He had planned on using the hole in the fence near the cemetery to get in, just like last time.  That cemetery was almost jammed full of rotting corpses, just meandering around.  That was a no-go.

To the north side of the street, there was another cemetery.  It wasn’t as large, but it was the kind that only had little flowers and no headstones.  It was surrounded by a chain linked fence.  Three sides of the relatively open field were bordered by a shallow ditch and densely packed trees.

That had to be it.  It was that or they would have to drive all the way around the base and come in through the housing area and golf course again.  He had no desire to stir up that hornet’s nest.

He jerked the wheel to the right and knocked down a large section of the fence.  Looking back, he could see that the other vehicles where following him.  Good, he thought.  He found an area relatively devoid of zombies and slammed on the brakes.

Without a word, he leapt from the vehicle.  He fired two rounds into the closest two zombies before the rest of them had gotten out of the humvee.  He ran to the driver’s side of the big grey pickup.

“Go back out there and see if you can’t lead some of those zombies into the corral here.”  The man looked at him as if he were crazy.  “Look, I need you…”  He turned and fired into the head of a zombie twenty feet away from them on his right.  “You need to get their attention and lead them away from the base!”

“Are you fucking nuts?  We’ll get stuck in here!  I’m not…”  A sudden fusillade of gunfire interrupted the man.  The men in his truck were shooting up the local zombies.  SSgt Brown could see that a lot more bullets were going out than zombies were falling.  “I’m not getting stuck in here!  I didn’t sign up for this shit!”

Sgt Procell’s humvee slid to a stop next to the truck.  “What’s the problem?” Chief Romanov yelled from the open passenger window.

“I need someone to make a hole for you guys to get on base.  I was thinking someone could play rabbit out here while the rest of us go and get the dozers.”

“Great!” the older Seabee said.  “You do that.  I’ve got the dozers.”  He turned to Sgt Procell.  “Let’s go, we haven’t got all day.”  The humvee pulled forward, but lurched to an immediate stop.

Theresa jumped out of the back seat.  “I’m staying with you guys.”  Before SSgt Brown had a chance to argue, the other humvee sped away, followed by the two trucks from The Haven.

Theresa took the passenger seat directly behind SSgt Brown.  She looked at the redhead sitting next to her and the older woman in the front passenger seat.  A smile crossed her face.  This was right, she thought.  This is how things are supposed to be.

Jen looked over her shoulder at the girl.  She was smiling.  Even as the sound of gunfire grew louder, the girl was smiling.  It was the first time she had smiled since Jackson had died.  A shiver crept up her spine.  She wasn’t sure why, but the girl’s smile made her uncomfortable.  There was something sinister about it, something…crazy.

SSgt Brown gunned the engine and laid on the horn as the humvee swung onto the paved road.  As one, the mass of rotting flesh focused on the newest and loudest source of stimulus.  Those in front of the vehicle simply walked towards it until they were knocked over by the cattle guard or run over by the over-sized, self-inflating tires.

Soon, he began slamming the front of the humvee into the fence that surrounded the base.  One after another, six to eight foot sections would fall under the weight of the camouflaged truck.  Sometimes zombies would get trapped beneath the metal fence.  Sometimes he would drive through the fence, only to return through another section in a figure eight pattern. The entire time he was honking his horn and leading the procession of the dead away from the entrance of the base.

The mass of decaying flesh shuffling behind the humvee was so dense that SSgt Brown wasn’t able to see the rest of the vehicles dart onto the base.  It took Jen, standing in the turret ring, to see the brake lights of the last vehicle cut between two large buildings.  “They’re in,” she announced.

SSgt Brown threw the wheel hard to the right, forcing Jen to grip the turret ring with both hands and bend her knees in order to stay within the confines of the humvee.  He led the dead on a slow circuitous route from the road and around two homes that did not have fences.  He continued back the way he’d come through several front yards and past the tail of the great zombie conga line.

They pulled into the cemetery and began a long slow spiral.  The dead followed dutifully behind the camouflaged vehicle.  After what seemed like an eternity, SSgt Brown gunned the engine and straightened the wheel.  The humvee plowed over several dozen zombies as it charged to the outside of the spiral, only to repeat the process over and over again.

Things had been going much easier for Sgt Procell and the rest.  With the bulk of the local ghouls busy chasing SSgt Brown and the girls on a merry-go-round of the macabre, they had been able to locate several of the vehicles they needed with little difficulty.  Things were about to change.

None of the vehicles had keys.  In general, military vehicles don’t need to keys to run.  They are, however, usually locked with a padlock when not in use.  There, parked in front of him were no less than five D7 armored bulldozers and six M9 Armored Combat Earthmover (ACE).  The D7 was simply an armored version of a civilian bulldozer, while the ACE was designed and built especially for military use.  Sgt Procell had spent many nights at the National Training Center at Fort Erwin sleeping on top of an ACE.

But where were the keys?  If this was an army post, he’d know exactly where to find the keys and manuals for every vehicle in the motor pool.  But, this was a Navy base.  The motor pool he was standing in was simply a parking lot situated between three large structures.  All three looked like warehouses, and none were marked as a maintenance unit or even a Seabee unit

He looked to Chief Romanov and shrugged.  The Chief simply shrugged back.  It was obvious he did not know where to find keys either.  “Ok,” the Chief announced.  “We have to check these buildings.”

“You take those men and check that building,” he ordered the lower ranking soldier.  “My guys will check this building.”

Sgt Procell’s leg began to throb.  He was sure it was all in his head, but he agreed.  This is going to hurt.  He would have liked to take the buildings down one at a time.  “No,” the sailor had told him.  “You guys get that one.”  The sailors trotted off towards their chosen target.

Sgt Procell turned to the men who were going in with him.  He didn’t know them.  One was the man who had driven the grey truck, the one who refused SSgt Brown’s orders.  He didn’t trust him.

“Ok, look,” he began.  “We knock and listen first.  If we don’t hear anything, we open the door quietly and peek in.  If it’s clear, we go.  If we can handle whatever’s there, we do it from outside.  Don’t go charging in.  If the place is overrun, we shut the door and go somewhere else.”

The NCO looked at the faces of the men he was about to go into battle with for the first time.  They looked more like a road construction crew than soldiers.  But, he thought, things aren’t the same.  Everyone is a soldier now.  You’re either a soldier or you’re dead.

“Anybody got any questions?” he asked in his deepest Carolina drawl.  They all shook their heads no.  Their eyes told another story.  They just wanted to get it over with.  It didn’t matter to them if they understood him or not.  They were scared.

“Don’t worry guy,” he said.  “I’m going first.  Anything in there’s gotta go through me to get to you all.”  One or two of the men released a nervous chuckle.  Good, he thought, let’s do this.

Bang, bang, bang! He knocked on the big metal door three times.  Wait, count to ten, he thought.  Listen.  Nothing, it was quiet.  He turned the handle slowly.  The latch released and the door began to swing slowly outwards towards him.  He slipped his rifle through the door and pushed the door farther open.

The inside of the big metal building was dark.  A wedge of light began growing on the ground in front of the door.  There were still no signs of life inside. He waited another few seconds, scanning the darkness and trying not to become mesmerized by the dust that floated in the sliver of light.

When he was satisfied, he pushed the door open wide enough to pass through.  He knew the guys behind him had no idea what they were doing.  He didn’t count on them covering their own sector of the room, like he had been taught, as they entered.  He simply scanned from right to left as he stepped in.  Nothing.  Good.

He crept in several more steps, trying to listen as he did.  Shoes pounded the ground behind him as the men behind him flooded into the room.  The room was still dark, save the light that reflected off of the concrete near the door.  He knew the men couldn’t see shit.  Hell, he could barely make out the door that was on the far wall.  He spun his head and stuck his left index finger over his lips.  A hiss quietly escaped his lips.  Shhh.

Again, the room was quiet.  His eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness.  He could read the placard on the door across the room.  “Lt Preston, Logistics” Good, he thought.  This was a supply warehouse and that was the supply officer’s office.  If they couldn’t find the keys to the dozers, maybe they could come up with a couple of sets of bolt cutters.

“Spread out in groups of two and look around,” he whispered to the men behind him.  “Look for keys or bolt cutters.  Don’t waste time with anything else.”  He pointed to the man directly behind him. “Follow me.”

The duo walked quickly but quietly to the door opposite them.  It was made of cheap wood, and painted grey.  The top half was frosted glass.  A quick rap on the door didn’t elicit a response from inside.

He slowly opened the door, rifle in one hand.  He breathed a quick sigh of relief at the empty room.  Well, he thought, it wasn’t exactly empty.  There was a desk with a computer and a dirty coffee mug.  The far wall was covered in grey metal filing cabinets.  The wall to the left, the first one seen as the door opened, was filled with plaques and awards.  This was Lt. Preston’s “I love me” wall.  Not too shabby, Sgt Procell thought, for a swab jockey.

The rest of the office was devoid of anything useful.  He hoped that the maintenance chief or officer would have the keys to the vehicles, but it was worth a try.  He was turning to leave the room when the first shot rang out. It was followed by another.  He quickly realized the shooting was not coming from inside of his building.  Chief Romanov, he thought, must be in trouble.  He ran to the open door and peered out.

More shots, these fired in rapid succession.  The building the Chief was searching was to the west, away from the motor pool relative to his building.  The three sailors were bounding backwards, one shooting while the other two ran.  Once the first man stopped shooting, the next man would turn and fire four or five rounds.  The third man would soon replace him as the shooter.

Sgt Procell stood, stunned by the sailor’s skill. Then the first zombie stumbled out of the building.  It had been a young man, wearing the blue camouflaged fatigues of the U.S. Navy.  The man suddenly fell forward as blackish-pink mist exploded from the back of his head.  A second, third, and fourth sailor-zombie followed.

Sgt Procell raised his rifle and began firing at the new threat.  He saw his target fall, pinkish mist still floating in the air behind it.  He changed his aim to acquire a new target.  He counted seven zombies outside of the building now.

Chief Romanov slapped his right shoulder as he passed.  “Go!” he yelled.  “That building’s packed with ‘em.”

Sgt Procell turned to run.  After a second step he stopped.  Turning, he realized none of his people had exited the building.  “Let’s go!” he barked as loud as he could.

He peered inside the door, but his night vision had been ruined.  He could hear the sounds of shoes slapping on concrete.  They were coming.  He looked back at the growing hoard.   Shit, he thought, so were they.

The first man sprinted out the door.  Sgt Procell grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the sailors.  The second man through the door held up a set of red bolt cutters as he was flung in the direction of the others.  The third and forth men out began shooting as they exited.

Again, Sgt Procell could see they were firing wildly.  He slapped each on the back of the shoulder.  “Go!” he ordered them.  He fired several rounds into the closest zombie.  The monster was so close he was sure he could feel the blackish-pink mist on his face.  He turned and tried to catch up with the others.  His injured leg screamed with every step.