Sever, p.19
Sever, page 19
“You were still in transit. We dropped the first two, thinking that we were kicking some ass. All it did was shake out the real horde of them that had been hiding from overhead observation. We didn’t even realize there were that many of them in one place. You’ll see it here in a few seconds.”
The screen turned a brilliant white and the point of impact went pitch black as the ball of heat expanded outwards, effectively making the center of the detonation cooler than the surrounding area. The camera adjusted and the blacks and whites balanced out. The tank was gone, simply gone. No, wait. There it is, Mike thought. It had been flipped on its side up against the foundation of the building near where the tank sat when it crapped out. The blast had enough force to lift a 72–ton vehicle up onto its side.
The screen reset and another bomb dropped from the B1 bomber. This one fell a little less than a mile away from the first into the mass of writhing creatures. They appeared to be twisted and broken, crawling onward with whatever muscles were still useable. Mike almost felt sorry for them as the next bomb came in and destroyed them.
“Here’s the interesting part,” the colonel stated as the camera panned back toward the east.
As far as the plane’s camera could see, zombies poured from underneath the tree line, from buildings, out of whatever overhead cover that they had found, and fell upon one another, ripping and tearing themselves to shreds. It went on for almost a minute and then stopped. They regained control of themselves and started to return to their hiding places. But it was too late, they’d been seen by the Air Force and now the bombs would fall on them.
That was strange, he thought. Why would they risk being seen like that? They sure do act like they know that we can see them from above. Now there was a creepy thought. If they were hiding on purpose from the drone and satellite cameras above them, it indicated some type of higher brain function. It chilled him to the core to think about those things being able to think and act upon those thoughts.
“Okay, I haven’t seen this part yet,” the G-3 indicated toward the monitor, which was now showing another set of crosshairs on the area that had recently been occupied by the out-of-control zombies. The bomb disengaged from the B1 and fell, guided toward the target.
“This is the one that just went off, sir?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, we’re watching the new feed that came from that last bomb. We didn’t see it in real time because we were over there at my desk and then it went back to the earlier loop.”
The area that had been targeted was roughly in the center of the large mass of creatures that had temporarily come out from the cover of trees and buildings. Once more the screen went white and then they watched the expanding fireball as it extended outward in all directions from the point of impact. Tens of thousands of zombies must have perished immediately in the blast.
They watched as the cameras zoomed out and nothing moved. They zoomed out further and almost a mile away, more of the creatures could be seen fighting each other. The text across the bottom of the screen stated that the bomber was “Winchester MOAB, RTB” which meant that they were out of ammo and returning to base.
The screen continued to show the zombies for a full minute before the plane banked away and the video refreshed to the original filmed section just before the first GBU-43/B drop. “So why are they fighting each other?” Mike finally asked after ensuring that it was the same video clip.
“Who knows for sure, but our intel folks have talked to higher about it already. Apparently, there’s a non-lethal weapon that they used effectively in the first zombie war called a sonic pulse cannon that scrambled their brains long enough to allow beleaguered troops to break contact.” The colonel held up his hands when he saw the look of anger flash across the company commander’s face. “I know… I know, Mike. We’ve requested as much information about that capability as possible now that we know about it. Anyways, the folks out west of the mountains seem to think that the large shock waves temporarily scramble the brains of the zombies that aren’t killed immediately. That’s why they go nuts for a minute or two.”
Mike accepted that as a good explanation, but he wasn’t ready to give up on the sonic pulse cannon discovery just yet. “Sir, how many people have we lost in our delaying defense? If the cannon-thing could have stopped them from getting overrun… We’ve got to get our hands on these things.”
“I hear ya, Mike. Not sure how good those things are though. The troops at The Wall had them and they were overrun anyways.”
“Okay, sir, but any little bit helps, right?”
“Of course. That’s why we’ve requested them. I just don’t want to get your hopes up that this is the weapon that’ll win the war. What’s gonna win this war is the total annihilation of the zombie threat and that starts with good men and women behind a gun.”
Mike nodded his head in agreement, but he wondered if those brain-scrambling weapons could be used to defeat the creatures somehow.
*****
26 October, 1442 hrs local
Western Edge of Allentown
Allentown, Pennsylvania
The Leader held the side of its head. It remembered from before that the thoughts originated from the head, but it couldn’t understand why it had lost control of the Followers twice in a row during such a short span of time.
It had been coordinating the move to follow the hated humans, to destroy their army so the Chosen could rule the land without being destroyed by the weapons that the humans carried when a bright light obliterated thousands of the Followers in an instant.
The Leader had seen the light and saw Followers fall, then it was picking itself up off the ground and they were fighting one another. It couldn’t make them stop until it was able to stand without falling over. Once it could stand on its own again, the creature regained control of its army and forced them back under cover, away from the eyes in the air.
The Master often warned the Chosen of the humans’ ability to see them from the sky. The Leader doubted this at first, but now believed that it was true. Their enemies commanded the air like its forces never could, so it was up to them to overwhelm the men when they were on the ground and hide from the things in the sky. One day, the Leader would be able to destroy the final human and then it wouldn’t need to hide the army any longer. It would return to the home city with its army and deal with the Master.
After the first bright light that ended the existence of thousands, another flashed not far from where the Leader stood. It was behind a building when the bright light occurred on the other side, away from its direct line of sight. When the Leader regained control of the Followers, it realized that a great multitude of them were no more. It was angry at first, but then decided against it.
Without so many to control, the Followers would be easier to direct now and the Leader could use them more effectively to destroy the troublesome humans once and for all.
*****
26 October, 1649 hrs local
Kidnapper’s House
Randolph, New Jersey
Shawn charged out of the basement with the hockey stick raised above his head, prepared to swing it into the face of the raping bastards who’d kidnapped him and Maria. He stopped short and looked around; no one else was in the living room besides Maria. Her eyes were open wide at the sight of the naked, screaming man who’d just burst from the basement doorway holding a weapon.
He lowered the hockey stick and looked around for a moment before sliding across the hardwood to where Maria lay. Shawn knelt and pulled the gag from her mouth. “Where are they?” he questioned.
“Oh, Shawn! Oh my God, Shawn. I thought you were dead,” she wailed.
“Are they here?” he demanded.
“No,” Maria sobbed. “The air horn blew and they took off to see what they caught.”
He shifted his position and began untying her legs. As he worked, he asked, “How long ago did they leave?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I fell asleep until you came out of the door. Shawn, I’m sorry about… About what happened to you.”
He didn’t reply and continued to separate the knotted ropes. One side came free and he moved stiffly to the opposite side and untied that as well. Then he worked on the knots around her wrists. When her hands were freed, she threw her arms around him and sobbed, “I thought you were dead.”
Shawn couldn’t hug her back because of the handcuffs; instead he finally allowed himself to cry. “I’m sorry, Maria. We shouldn’t have stuck around after we saw the trap. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
She held him tightly to her as if she were trying to draw strength from him. “Can you walk?” he asked.
“I… I don’t know.” She broke away from him and glanced down at her crotch. “I’m pretty messed up down there.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered again. He felt that the whole thing was his fault because he was the leader of their little group and had led them directly into the psychopaths’ trap. As they embraced, he planned. He would take Maria to safety and then return to kill those two.
After a few minutes of holding each other, he finally broke away. “We need to get out of here. Let’s see if you can walk.”
Maria nodded and used the back of her hand to wipe away the snot that had bubbled out of her nose. As Shawn tried to help her stand, the garage door began to open and he froze. “Fuck, they’re back! Hurry!”
She tried several times to stand, but she’d been strapped to the bar with her legs spread open and violated several times a day for three or four days; her body was too abused and she couldn’t support her own weight. “I can’t do it, Shawn. Get out of here. Leave me!”
“Like hell I will,” he replied and pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. He picked up the stick and walked over to the door. “Lay down!” he hissed as the sound of the closing garage door filled the room. Briefly, his mind cleared of the murder that clouded his thoughts and he wondered how they had power to run the garage door opener. Everywhere that they’d been recently didn’t have any electricity at all, how had the men managed to generate power?
The twisting of the cheap brass doorknob brought his attention squarely back to the here and now. The door swung open and the first of the men walked through. “Honey, I’m home,” the blonde man said as he moved past Shawn, hidden behind the door.
He stepped away from the wall and swung with every ounce of hatred for the man who’d first suggested that they abuse him with the small baseball bat. The hockey stick impacted with the back of his head, right behind his ear and the splinters of wood flew across the room as the stick shattered and the man began to fall.
Shawn looked at the jagged end of the stick and then turned, thrusting it toward the open garage doorway into the throat of the second man who’d just rounded the corner. The sharp wooden spike pierced his neck and sliced open the carotid artery. Blood sprayed everywhere and the rapist fell to his knees clutching his fatal wound. As he fell, the stick was pulled from Shawn’s hands and he stepped back toward the blonde man.
The kidnapper was beginning to stir and to push himself upward. Shawn searched for another weapon and his eyes rested on the blood-covered baseball bat leaning beside the garage door. He stepped quickly across the doorway and snatched up the bat. He raised it above his head and slammed the metal down onto the spine of the blonde man.
The rapist screamed and fell onto his stomach. Shawn brought the bat up again and smashed it downward onto his shoulder. The sound of breaking bones and the man’s renewed screams rewarded his efforts.
“Hi, remember me?” Shawn said as he swung the bat into the blonde’s ankle, shattering it. Then he broke the opposite hand from the shoulder that he’d hit.
“Shawn, stop it!” Maria shouted. “You’re not like them. Don’t torture the bastard. Just kill him and be done with it.”
Her words stopped him and he glanced up at the woman. She was right. He wasn’t like them; he’d never be like them. Part of that was the ability to control himself, though. He nodded his chin curtly toward Maria and raised the bat high above his head. He brought it down on the back of his skull with a sickening crunch. Then he did it again and again until there was nothing left of the man’s head but mush. Then Shawn staggered toward the garage to ensure that the other man was dead.
The puddle of dark liquid that ran toward the garage door made Shawn think that he probably was, but he wasn’t going to risk his or Maria’s life on a whim. He jammed the end of the bat into the kidnapper’s crotch as hard as he could. There was no reaction so he used the bat to push the ski mask up over the man’s forehead.
Shawn stumbled backward and hit the wall, dropping the bat. The blank, lifeless eyes that stared at the ceiling belonged to Terry, the National Guard soldier who’d abandoned them in Parsippany. “Oh my God…” he muttered, unable to believe that the man who’d shared the observation post with him could have been capable of doing the things that he’d done.
“Shawn!” Maria called from the living room.
He closed down his mind and grabbed the baseball bat; he had a feeling that the bat would be his constant companion from here on out, both as a weapon and a reminder of what these people did to him. Shawn walked gracelessly up the steps, his legs felt rubbery as he sidestepped the bloody mass that likely used to be Jon, the other soldier from the outpost.
“What is it?” he asked, the bat elevated above his head so he could defend Maria.
“Are you okay?” she asked. She’d managed to sit up on her own and had her back resting against the side of the couch. “I heard a loud thump and then you dropped the bat. I thought… I thought…” she stopped and started crying again.
He continued across the room and slid down beside her. They’d faced their captors and survived.
*****
27 October, 0746 hrs local
The Wall
Near Centerville, Virginia
Kestrel stared up at the twelve-foot monstrosity in front of him. It cut across the interstate, ensuring that no one would be able to continue traveling forward, regardless of their purpose for being there. The Wall was a giant cinderblock structure, meant to trap the zombies safely inside and keep the nuclear devastation from spreading out toward the human population.
He’d been behind The Wall less than six months prior to today. At the time, he was already beginning to feel the desire to be what most considered a “normal” person, to settle down with a woman and maybe even have a family. Since then, he’d fallen in love with one woman and lost another that he genuinely cared for, both due either directly to the zombies or because of thugs who made a profit from their nefarious activities behind The Wall.
The part of him that wanted to settle down and raise a family was dead forever now that he’d lost Allyson, Rachel and Boomer. He no longer desired a future; he wanted revenge—and revenge in Kestrel’s book meant that things ended up dead and forgotten to the annals of history. He was going to ensure that no one thought of the Type Ones again, except as an interesting footnote to the larger zombie war.
The operator looked around the base of The Wall for an entrance. He could expend a lot of energy and climb in over the top or he could find one of the many gates set into The Wall and enter through that. He knew from the pre-mission brief last spring that there were gates set at random points along the structure. They were usually close together, only a mile apart, but in some instances they were up to twenty miles apart. The government added the gates as a way to project combat power rapidly into the city if they needed to go inside. During the briefing, Alistair Reston had told them that if they were separated from their group, they were to make their way toward The Wall and walk along it until they found a gate. Outside of each gate was a guard shack with keys, manned twenty-four hours a day with a guard who could let you out.
That was then. Now, the military force guarding the Dead City had been wiped out. Evidence of dead soldiers and dispatched zombies were everywhere along the highway coming in. He’d stared in disbelief at the dead. Most of the soldiers had head wounds, which meant that they’d turned after being bitten and attacked their comrades. Even though he didn’t know them, they were his brothers in arms and it made him sad that they’d died uselessly because of the zombies. Kestrel had always thought that the president should have sent in specialized teams to wipe out the creatures while they were still trapped behind The Wall and those teams could have dispatched the zombies and even killed the Type Ones who’d orchestrated this disaster, potentially saving millions of lives. After the war, there’d likely be a political reckoning, although he wouldn’t be around to see it.
Kestrel shifted his truck into first and eased his foot off the clutch. He turned north for no other reason than it was convenient and drove slowly along the cleared area beside The Wall looking for a gate to enter the region. The military had cleared large sections around the perimeter of buildings and vegetation to open up their fields of fire. In the end, they’d killed a ton of the creatures, but that didn’t matter since none of them had survived the breakout.
The old Ford bounced along the killing grounds that the cleared area had become, often running over bodies and discarded weapons. From the positioning of most of the corpses, it looked like the soldiers had retreated southward and the creatures followed them killing indiscriminately. That likely meant that there was a gate somewhere nearby that he could use to get into the city.
About two miles after he’d left Interstate 66, Kestrel found the gate that he’d been looking for. He put the truck in park and examined the scene. The vacant stone archway was large enough that a full-sized military truck could pass through without a hassle and the metal gates lay on the ground, their hinges torn from the cinderblock. The zombies must have piled against them and the soldiers had foolishly relied on the strength of the steel. Kestrel had seen it before; regardless of the strength of the gates, with enough pressure—like thousands of zombies pushing against them—things that are welded or bolted together will eventually break. It was only a matter of time, and then they simply overwhelmed the small guard force.
The screen turned a brilliant white and the point of impact went pitch black as the ball of heat expanded outwards, effectively making the center of the detonation cooler than the surrounding area. The camera adjusted and the blacks and whites balanced out. The tank was gone, simply gone. No, wait. There it is, Mike thought. It had been flipped on its side up against the foundation of the building near where the tank sat when it crapped out. The blast had enough force to lift a 72–ton vehicle up onto its side.
The screen reset and another bomb dropped from the B1 bomber. This one fell a little less than a mile away from the first into the mass of writhing creatures. They appeared to be twisted and broken, crawling onward with whatever muscles were still useable. Mike almost felt sorry for them as the next bomb came in and destroyed them.
“Here’s the interesting part,” the colonel stated as the camera panned back toward the east.
As far as the plane’s camera could see, zombies poured from underneath the tree line, from buildings, out of whatever overhead cover that they had found, and fell upon one another, ripping and tearing themselves to shreds. It went on for almost a minute and then stopped. They regained control of themselves and started to return to their hiding places. But it was too late, they’d been seen by the Air Force and now the bombs would fall on them.
That was strange, he thought. Why would they risk being seen like that? They sure do act like they know that we can see them from above. Now there was a creepy thought. If they were hiding on purpose from the drone and satellite cameras above them, it indicated some type of higher brain function. It chilled him to the core to think about those things being able to think and act upon those thoughts.
“Okay, I haven’t seen this part yet,” the G-3 indicated toward the monitor, which was now showing another set of crosshairs on the area that had recently been occupied by the out-of-control zombies. The bomb disengaged from the B1 and fell, guided toward the target.
“This is the one that just went off, sir?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, we’re watching the new feed that came from that last bomb. We didn’t see it in real time because we were over there at my desk and then it went back to the earlier loop.”
The area that had been targeted was roughly in the center of the large mass of creatures that had temporarily come out from the cover of trees and buildings. Once more the screen went white and then they watched the expanding fireball as it extended outward in all directions from the point of impact. Tens of thousands of zombies must have perished immediately in the blast.
They watched as the cameras zoomed out and nothing moved. They zoomed out further and almost a mile away, more of the creatures could be seen fighting each other. The text across the bottom of the screen stated that the bomber was “Winchester MOAB, RTB” which meant that they were out of ammo and returning to base.
The screen continued to show the zombies for a full minute before the plane banked away and the video refreshed to the original filmed section just before the first GBU-43/B drop. “So why are they fighting each other?” Mike finally asked after ensuring that it was the same video clip.
“Who knows for sure, but our intel folks have talked to higher about it already. Apparently, there’s a non-lethal weapon that they used effectively in the first zombie war called a sonic pulse cannon that scrambled their brains long enough to allow beleaguered troops to break contact.” The colonel held up his hands when he saw the look of anger flash across the company commander’s face. “I know… I know, Mike. We’ve requested as much information about that capability as possible now that we know about it. Anyways, the folks out west of the mountains seem to think that the large shock waves temporarily scramble the brains of the zombies that aren’t killed immediately. That’s why they go nuts for a minute or two.”
Mike accepted that as a good explanation, but he wasn’t ready to give up on the sonic pulse cannon discovery just yet. “Sir, how many people have we lost in our delaying defense? If the cannon-thing could have stopped them from getting overrun… We’ve got to get our hands on these things.”
“I hear ya, Mike. Not sure how good those things are though. The troops at The Wall had them and they were overrun anyways.”
“Okay, sir, but any little bit helps, right?”
“Of course. That’s why we’ve requested them. I just don’t want to get your hopes up that this is the weapon that’ll win the war. What’s gonna win this war is the total annihilation of the zombie threat and that starts with good men and women behind a gun.”
Mike nodded his head in agreement, but he wondered if those brain-scrambling weapons could be used to defeat the creatures somehow.
*****
26 October, 1442 hrs local
Western Edge of Allentown
Allentown, Pennsylvania
The Leader held the side of its head. It remembered from before that the thoughts originated from the head, but it couldn’t understand why it had lost control of the Followers twice in a row during such a short span of time.
It had been coordinating the move to follow the hated humans, to destroy their army so the Chosen could rule the land without being destroyed by the weapons that the humans carried when a bright light obliterated thousands of the Followers in an instant.
The Leader had seen the light and saw Followers fall, then it was picking itself up off the ground and they were fighting one another. It couldn’t make them stop until it was able to stand without falling over. Once it could stand on its own again, the creature regained control of its army and forced them back under cover, away from the eyes in the air.
The Master often warned the Chosen of the humans’ ability to see them from the sky. The Leader doubted this at first, but now believed that it was true. Their enemies commanded the air like its forces never could, so it was up to them to overwhelm the men when they were on the ground and hide from the things in the sky. One day, the Leader would be able to destroy the final human and then it wouldn’t need to hide the army any longer. It would return to the home city with its army and deal with the Master.
After the first bright light that ended the existence of thousands, another flashed not far from where the Leader stood. It was behind a building when the bright light occurred on the other side, away from its direct line of sight. When the Leader regained control of the Followers, it realized that a great multitude of them were no more. It was angry at first, but then decided against it.
Without so many to control, the Followers would be easier to direct now and the Leader could use them more effectively to destroy the troublesome humans once and for all.
*****
26 October, 1649 hrs local
Kidnapper’s House
Randolph, New Jersey
Shawn charged out of the basement with the hockey stick raised above his head, prepared to swing it into the face of the raping bastards who’d kidnapped him and Maria. He stopped short and looked around; no one else was in the living room besides Maria. Her eyes were open wide at the sight of the naked, screaming man who’d just burst from the basement doorway holding a weapon.
He lowered the hockey stick and looked around for a moment before sliding across the hardwood to where Maria lay. Shawn knelt and pulled the gag from her mouth. “Where are they?” he questioned.
“Oh, Shawn! Oh my God, Shawn. I thought you were dead,” she wailed.
“Are they here?” he demanded.
“No,” Maria sobbed. “The air horn blew and they took off to see what they caught.”
He shifted his position and began untying her legs. As he worked, he asked, “How long ago did they leave?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I fell asleep until you came out of the door. Shawn, I’m sorry about… About what happened to you.”
He didn’t reply and continued to separate the knotted ropes. One side came free and he moved stiffly to the opposite side and untied that as well. Then he worked on the knots around her wrists. When her hands were freed, she threw her arms around him and sobbed, “I thought you were dead.”
Shawn couldn’t hug her back because of the handcuffs; instead he finally allowed himself to cry. “I’m sorry, Maria. We shouldn’t have stuck around after we saw the trap. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
She held him tightly to her as if she were trying to draw strength from him. “Can you walk?” he asked.
“I… I don’t know.” She broke away from him and glanced down at her crotch. “I’m pretty messed up down there.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered again. He felt that the whole thing was his fault because he was the leader of their little group and had led them directly into the psychopaths’ trap. As they embraced, he planned. He would take Maria to safety and then return to kill those two.
After a few minutes of holding each other, he finally broke away. “We need to get out of here. Let’s see if you can walk.”
Maria nodded and used the back of her hand to wipe away the snot that had bubbled out of her nose. As Shawn tried to help her stand, the garage door began to open and he froze. “Fuck, they’re back! Hurry!”
She tried several times to stand, but she’d been strapped to the bar with her legs spread open and violated several times a day for three or four days; her body was too abused and she couldn’t support her own weight. “I can’t do it, Shawn. Get out of here. Leave me!”
“Like hell I will,” he replied and pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. He picked up the stick and walked over to the door. “Lay down!” he hissed as the sound of the closing garage door filled the room. Briefly, his mind cleared of the murder that clouded his thoughts and he wondered how they had power to run the garage door opener. Everywhere that they’d been recently didn’t have any electricity at all, how had the men managed to generate power?
The twisting of the cheap brass doorknob brought his attention squarely back to the here and now. The door swung open and the first of the men walked through. “Honey, I’m home,” the blonde man said as he moved past Shawn, hidden behind the door.
He stepped away from the wall and swung with every ounce of hatred for the man who’d first suggested that they abuse him with the small baseball bat. The hockey stick impacted with the back of his head, right behind his ear and the splinters of wood flew across the room as the stick shattered and the man began to fall.
Shawn looked at the jagged end of the stick and then turned, thrusting it toward the open garage doorway into the throat of the second man who’d just rounded the corner. The sharp wooden spike pierced his neck and sliced open the carotid artery. Blood sprayed everywhere and the rapist fell to his knees clutching his fatal wound. As he fell, the stick was pulled from Shawn’s hands and he stepped back toward the blonde man.
The kidnapper was beginning to stir and to push himself upward. Shawn searched for another weapon and his eyes rested on the blood-covered baseball bat leaning beside the garage door. He stepped quickly across the doorway and snatched up the bat. He raised it above his head and slammed the metal down onto the spine of the blonde man.
The rapist screamed and fell onto his stomach. Shawn brought the bat up again and smashed it downward onto his shoulder. The sound of breaking bones and the man’s renewed screams rewarded his efforts.
“Hi, remember me?” Shawn said as he swung the bat into the blonde’s ankle, shattering it. Then he broke the opposite hand from the shoulder that he’d hit.
“Shawn, stop it!” Maria shouted. “You’re not like them. Don’t torture the bastard. Just kill him and be done with it.”
Her words stopped him and he glanced up at the woman. She was right. He wasn’t like them; he’d never be like them. Part of that was the ability to control himself, though. He nodded his chin curtly toward Maria and raised the bat high above his head. He brought it down on the back of his skull with a sickening crunch. Then he did it again and again until there was nothing left of the man’s head but mush. Then Shawn staggered toward the garage to ensure that the other man was dead.
The puddle of dark liquid that ran toward the garage door made Shawn think that he probably was, but he wasn’t going to risk his or Maria’s life on a whim. He jammed the end of the bat into the kidnapper’s crotch as hard as he could. There was no reaction so he used the bat to push the ski mask up over the man’s forehead.
Shawn stumbled backward and hit the wall, dropping the bat. The blank, lifeless eyes that stared at the ceiling belonged to Terry, the National Guard soldier who’d abandoned them in Parsippany. “Oh my God…” he muttered, unable to believe that the man who’d shared the observation post with him could have been capable of doing the things that he’d done.
“Shawn!” Maria called from the living room.
He closed down his mind and grabbed the baseball bat; he had a feeling that the bat would be his constant companion from here on out, both as a weapon and a reminder of what these people did to him. Shawn walked gracelessly up the steps, his legs felt rubbery as he sidestepped the bloody mass that likely used to be Jon, the other soldier from the outpost.
“What is it?” he asked, the bat elevated above his head so he could defend Maria.
“Are you okay?” she asked. She’d managed to sit up on her own and had her back resting against the side of the couch. “I heard a loud thump and then you dropped the bat. I thought… I thought…” she stopped and started crying again.
He continued across the room and slid down beside her. They’d faced their captors and survived.
*****
27 October, 0746 hrs local
The Wall
Near Centerville, Virginia
Kestrel stared up at the twelve-foot monstrosity in front of him. It cut across the interstate, ensuring that no one would be able to continue traveling forward, regardless of their purpose for being there. The Wall was a giant cinderblock structure, meant to trap the zombies safely inside and keep the nuclear devastation from spreading out toward the human population.
He’d been behind The Wall less than six months prior to today. At the time, he was already beginning to feel the desire to be what most considered a “normal” person, to settle down with a woman and maybe even have a family. Since then, he’d fallen in love with one woman and lost another that he genuinely cared for, both due either directly to the zombies or because of thugs who made a profit from their nefarious activities behind The Wall.
The part of him that wanted to settle down and raise a family was dead forever now that he’d lost Allyson, Rachel and Boomer. He no longer desired a future; he wanted revenge—and revenge in Kestrel’s book meant that things ended up dead and forgotten to the annals of history. He was going to ensure that no one thought of the Type Ones again, except as an interesting footnote to the larger zombie war.
The operator looked around the base of The Wall for an entrance. He could expend a lot of energy and climb in over the top or he could find one of the many gates set into The Wall and enter through that. He knew from the pre-mission brief last spring that there were gates set at random points along the structure. They were usually close together, only a mile apart, but in some instances they were up to twenty miles apart. The government added the gates as a way to project combat power rapidly into the city if they needed to go inside. During the briefing, Alistair Reston had told them that if they were separated from their group, they were to make their way toward The Wall and walk along it until they found a gate. Outside of each gate was a guard shack with keys, manned twenty-four hours a day with a guard who could let you out.
That was then. Now, the military force guarding the Dead City had been wiped out. Evidence of dead soldiers and dispatched zombies were everywhere along the highway coming in. He’d stared in disbelief at the dead. Most of the soldiers had head wounds, which meant that they’d turned after being bitten and attacked their comrades. Even though he didn’t know them, they were his brothers in arms and it made him sad that they’d died uselessly because of the zombies. Kestrel had always thought that the president should have sent in specialized teams to wipe out the creatures while they were still trapped behind The Wall and those teams could have dispatched the zombies and even killed the Type Ones who’d orchestrated this disaster, potentially saving millions of lives. After the war, there’d likely be a political reckoning, although he wouldn’t be around to see it.
Kestrel shifted his truck into first and eased his foot off the clutch. He turned north for no other reason than it was convenient and drove slowly along the cleared area beside The Wall looking for a gate to enter the region. The military had cleared large sections around the perimeter of buildings and vegetation to open up their fields of fire. In the end, they’d killed a ton of the creatures, but that didn’t matter since none of them had survived the breakout.
The old Ford bounced along the killing grounds that the cleared area had become, often running over bodies and discarded weapons. From the positioning of most of the corpses, it looked like the soldiers had retreated southward and the creatures followed them killing indiscriminately. That likely meant that there was a gate somewhere nearby that he could use to get into the city.
About two miles after he’d left Interstate 66, Kestrel found the gate that he’d been looking for. He put the truck in park and examined the scene. The vacant stone archway was large enough that a full-sized military truck could pass through without a hassle and the metal gates lay on the ground, their hinges torn from the cinderblock. The zombies must have piled against them and the soldiers had foolishly relied on the strength of the steel. Kestrel had seen it before; regardless of the strength of the gates, with enough pressure—like thousands of zombies pushing against them—things that are welded or bolted together will eventually break. It was only a matter of time, and then they simply overwhelmed the small guard force.
