Zombie Killers: Ice & Fire (19 page)

Chapter 15 

WILLIAM

I woke up with a start. I felt a sharp pain run up my leg. I looked down to see what remained of a business woman gnawing on my boot, which to my surprise was thick enough to stop her teeth. I guess The Walking Dead was right about that. I tried to get up quickly to incapacitate her when I realized my arm was pinned under a desk. Seaman Jackson, the SEAL who knocked me out of the helicopter was lying on top of it, with a broken neck. With one quick motion I rolled my body, kicking her off my leg, and pushed the desk off my arm. While she was stumbling back up, I made it to my feet and shoved my knife through the top of her skull.

After she dropped into a heap on the floor, I did the same. I stared up at the ceiling feeling dizzy and I gathered my concussed thoughts. After we were thrown from the chopper, we flew through a window about halfway up a tall office building, and I must have hit the ground pretty hard, because I was unconscious for nearly a half hour before the she-lurker wandered in and tried making a meal of me. I had chest pain, so I probably bruised or cracked a rib or two, and I had to have gotten a concussion. I should have known trading my M1 helmet for an Ops-Core helmet would have been a good investment. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the advantages of an impact test, like they make you take for most high school sports
,
so I had to just power through it, and get back into contact with (the remainder of) my team.

After I checked to see if the SEAL was dead or undead, I made sure that the room was clear and that I didn’t make too much noise walking around. After I found that there were no immediate threats, I went back over to the dead member of my helo team to take anything of use from him, and cover him with some curtains I found. While I was determining what I should take with me between the two sets of gear I discovered a problem that made some of my decision much easier.

Apparently when I came crashing through the window into the building, the mount holding my Scope onto my rifle snapped, not to mention the glass inside was cracked. Luckily, at least in this instance, it didn’t pour when it rained. I quickly remembered the Jackson’s Remington MSR, also chambered in 7.62 that I had been eyeing since we left the ground. Back in the “old world” these two rifles made me drool, and even now, I find it a struggle to choose between them. But after all, I’m already up shit’s creek, why use a paddle when I’ve got a motor. After seeing that his scope and mount didn’t suffer the damages that mine had, I placed his Leopold Mark 4 scope atop my rifle as if I was crowning a king.

I knew that the sight would only need a slight bit of tweaking, considering the rifles wielded the same caliber, so I would worry about sighting it in later, then I grabbed the rest of his ammo, his food, and the rope he was carrying. Just like the Boondock Saints, you never know when you might need rope. Charlie Bronson always had rope. I took the rest of his useful gear and hid it, then, after saying a few words, and showing him as much respect as I could, I pulled Jackson’s prayer book out of his shirt pocket and read an excerpt from where he had a bookmark. After I started looking for a way to figure out what’s going on in Norfolk.

As much as I wanted to get out of that building and find the helicopter, I had to get higher and survey the surrounding area and see who or what was out there trying to take us out. When I got to the roof, I found the sun was much higher and brighter than it was before the crash, so I took a moment to hook my dented helmet onto my bag, and pulled on my bonnie hat.

Just then I heard the screech of a PA system echoing off the surrounding buildings, projecting a disembodied voice, the origin of which baffled me. As I focused I began to understand what was being said and I felt as though my breath was cut short. The man on the speaker was directing patrols to find the downed helicopter, and be sure that there were no survivors.

At that, I broke free of my petrified state, and began spinning around on the roof, looking for a column of smoke, so that I could try and get there before the roving patrols of anti-Americans. When I didn’t see it on my third rotation, I decided to walk the perimeter of the roof, and scan the surrounding area with my new scope for the source of the voice and a threat assessment.

I looked to the North and I could see the Naval Base just before the horizon, but I knew that the voice couldn’t have come from there; it was too loud, too clear, so I knew that I didn’t have very much time before the patrols would be on me.

Once I finished on the roof, I took to the stairs with my flashlight, going down as fast I could, as stealthily as I could, and when I reached the ground level, I crept out the emergency exit and down the alleyway until I reached the road. Once I scanned up and down the road, I decided to go in the direction the chopper was going when I was thrown out, hopefully I could find some of the crew.

As I was trotting down the street, I found a nice mountain bike that someone had chained to a railing. After I made sure I was clear enough, I unslung my second bag and sat it on the rear rack, then took off my pack and rummaged through till I found my air pump (can’t risk having a flat football, let alone flat tires), then strapped it back on and began inflating the long-flat tires. After stowing my pump, I pulled out the bolt cutters I carry and snapped the chain. Now that I have better means of transportation, I checked my surroundings once more, hopped on, and took off towards the now visible black smoke.

It seemed that, as I was getting closer to the crash, I was leaving the claustrophobic city and heading towards a residential area. I should have picked up a bike sooner after the world ended, this thing seriously cut travel time, and even better, I could breeze by the cold dead hands regularly clawing for me.

Chapter 16

I was close now, I could smell the smoke, but I still couldn’t get eyes on the wreckage. God I hope Ethan and the crew had a softer landing than we did. I was almost there, but I could tell that I wasn’t the first to respond to the scene. I could hear engines and voices coming from the cul-de-sac a couple streets beyond me. I pulled my bike up through the yard in front of me and stowed it and the extra gear I had under the back deck of the house. Though I still didn’t have a sight line on the wreck, I stealthily made my way into the back yard of a house that faced the crash.

What I saw was something straight out of a tropic horror movie; random patrol in the area comes to check out the crash site, looking for anything of use, and kills anyone who survived, after trying to get valuable Intel out of them. It was sickening, even after this cruel world had desensitized me so much; this was still hard to stomach. I saw them drag what looked like one of the SEALs out of the woods nearby. He didn’t seem to be cooperative, or maybe he was almost dead, but they made sure of that after he hocked up a mouthful of blood into one of their faces. Damn. It’s always hard to watch a comrade die, but I couldn’t react and give away my position, especially since I didn’t see Ethan at the site, so I can only hope he got the hell out of Dodge.

“These guys are kitted out similar to me, even dressed in
Multicam. If I’m seen they may not think anything of me.”

The group showed no signs of leaving early, so I knew I needed to get out of there before they came looking for anyone who was still lingering around the crash site. I backed out of the yard feeling like I was with Scooby and Shaggy, sneaking away from the bad guys, hoping they didn’t notice.

When I slunk back through the yard I noticed that someone in uniform was pulling my bike out from where I had stowed it. Though I could have eluded detection and escaped, I wasn’t ready to part with my recently acquired means of transportation, and the gear I had attached to it. I positioned myself behind a tree and spoke out, just audible enough that soldier heard, but not the rest of the group, to stop and move away from the bike.  I shouldered my rifle and flicked off the safety. The surprised soldier laid the bike down, put their hands up and spun around to face me. I saw a young woman, wearing multicam.

Without hesitation, I fired my suppressed rifle and she fell to the ground and tried to let out a scream, but couldn’t make a sound. After putting another round into the Z that had been stalking her,  I walked over to my bike, picked it up and began to walk out of the yard. The girl called to me, thanking me for saving her from the zombie that snuck out from behind the house towards her, then she apologized and pulled her gun and told me to stop where I was. Some nerve. I wasted precious ammo to save a woman I don’t know, who appears to be working under the command of a different military, and she had the gall to draw on me. I had no time to deal with this.

Just like in the movies, she was talking her way through justifying killing me, all while I was estimating how long it would take for me to quick draw my pistol and be finished with this so I could complete my mission. Lucky for me, the voices of her commanding officers distracted her enough to turn around so that when she turned back she was staring down the barrel of my rifle. I had no reason to kill her now, she was clearly inexperienced in militaristic aspects, plus I have this thing where I don’t like killing women.

“Think you could sling your M4? This rifle is a bastard to hold after a while!” I said, attempting to break the ice with a smartass remark. Though she was wary, she did agree to discontinue our standoff. I kept my rifle shouldered and reached down for my pistol, so I wasn’t stuck holding her up with my 17 pound rifle.

“I don’t plan on going with you back to your superiors, and if you try anything I won’t think twice.”

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?”

“You’re lucky I appreciate sarcasm lady. Let’s go, I might need a shield if they catch me, and I don’t want to be out here when it gets dark, especially after the racket your men are causing.”

She knew she didn’t have any other choice. I did not inform her of my plans or why I was flying towards her capital city. It became very apparent that she did not have much training or military experience, as she did not try to move stealthily or quietly, and she would stare back at me blankly whenever I would say something in jargon. However, she did prove to be well versed in survival throughout our journey. We were sticking to the wider streets, both to keep distance from possible choke points and to avoid the chance of dead ends.

She stuck close to me when we started out, so I guess she thought I knew what I was doing, (how wrong she was), or maybe she was just scared to be away from wherever she had been before. Since she didn’t seem too inclined to escape and was struggling with my pace, I told her she could mount the bike so long as she was cautious. She didn’t hesitate.

I figured she would be useful if I had any run-ins with patrols, for she could explain that we were tracking a survivor, and I could just pose as a newbie who was accompanying her. After I was comfortable with our distance from the downed Blackhawk, I began to look for a suitable place to spend the night. We had made it to the line where the residential area transformed into the commercial district, but I decided that a house would be easier to clear than a building. With a sliver of sun still showing behind the buildings of the city, we approached a small, 2-story house with a wrap-around porch and I thought it would fit the bill.

When we stepped up onto the front porch, I asked her if she had ever cleared a house, or anything for that manner. She shook her head no, so I told her I would take care of it. I handed her my rifle, because it was suppressed, and asked her to cover the house while I was inside, but don’t fire unless they were on our side of the street. “How do you carry this thing?! It weighs like 20 pounds!” she said.

“It has everything I need on it, sights, scopes, silencer, bipod, all that adds up to heavy.” I answered her as I checked under the mat for a key, almost ecstatic that people left a key, meaning we would still have a functioning door.

When I unlocked the door, I unholstered my Sig, and unsheathed my kopis, then swung the door open hard, and waited. I got a blast of stench that told me the house was occupied, then I could hear the familiar groan of a lurking zed who was hungry. The source of the groan manifested itself at the top of the steps, leaned forward, and toppled end over end down into a heap on the floor. Before it had time to move I stabbed it through the head, then waited to see if I could hear any more. After a full minute of silence, I dragged Stinky out the front door and off the porch.

I reentered and cleared the house T to A, then invited the girl, Sasha, into the house to help me fortify for the evening. First I dead-bolted the door, then moved a living room chair in front of it. Next, after Sasha grabbed anything of use from the kitchen, she went upstairs and I flipped a couch and pulled it up onto the steps. Close enough to taking out the stairs.

Now with full bellies thanks to the extra chunky soup she found, we called it a day and picked a room with a porch roof out the window. As soon as she hit the bed she was out, so I laid my gear next to a chair in the corner, moved the dresser in front of the door, then settled into my chair. No matter how hard I fought, sleep bested me, and I fell fast asleep.