Siege (As the World Dies #3)(167)

The morning air was filled with the creaking of catapults showering the undead with their loads of discarded junk. The sharp twang of the massive crossbows was followed by the hissing whistle of twenty arrows splitting through the air in a gentle arch only to slam into the battered, mangled bodies of the dead. The sudden whoosh of the gas jets being activated out on the field below, then the loud bang as they ignited, was followed by the intense wail of the zombies on fire.

The smell was unbelievable. Charred flesh. Rotting flesh. Fire. Human sweat and fear. From the massive crossbows to the catapults to the gunmen, everyone had a section of the area lying before the fort which they were responsible for. Target zones were erected along the wall with colored paint. If something crossed into your zone, you fired. It was easy. Yet there was swearing and screams of anger as something undead and rotting would pass out of the zone just before a toilet smashed right where it had been standing or the ground was skewered with twenty arrows instead of the shambling dead.



Juan activated the traps on Nerit’s command. The fire jet traps, the quick drying cement traps, the stake traps. He listened and obeyed. He never saw the shuffling family of four complete with a toddler get stuck in the quick drying cement and flail about uselessly until the snipers shot off their heads. He didn’t see the former nurse with both arms missing ignite into a torch as a gas jet went off. Nor the zombified firemen get skewered on the stake traps. But he would hear “Good job” from Nerit and smile with satisfaction. Katie worked with feverish intensity loading up her crossbow, then waiting for something to move into her zone. Every time the shambling dead went down under the hail of her arrows, she would grin fiercely and reload. More than once she felt Jenni’s presence nearby and it pushed her to keep going even when the heat and the smell seemed overwhelming.

“This is for Ken, f*ckers,” Lenore said further down the wall as her crossbow split zombies apart pouring their putrid innards onto the ground. She would pump her fist in the air then reload to do it all over again.

Jason helped man the slingshot. The teenagers launched Molotov cocktails with startling accuracy at the undead. They all wore t-shirts with the words “For Roger” written on them with a sharpie pen. Jason’s read on the back: “For my Mom.”

Rune ran across rooftops to gun down anything trying to come up the side streets. Most of the traps had already gone off with zombies dangling from the razor wire. He took out anything that stirred down the side streets. Most of the first zombies were still trailing off into the distance in two long columns.

Linda and Bette reloaded their catapult countless times. The discarded junk of the old world flew out over the battlefield, picking up force as it fell to earth and landing amongst the dead with brutal devastation. They would high five whenever they got a particularly gruesome death. Their favorite was a zombie priest who lost his head to a flying toaster oven.

Calhoun, followed by his pack of dogs, ran along the wall activating the traps closest to the fort. If the zombies began to congregate in one area, he would trip a variety of swinging arms made of old telephone lines and lawnmower blades. The big swinging arms were his pride and joy. They’d swing through a group of zombies and obliterate anything they’d hit.

The helicopters, on standby, had one bad moment when confronted with a handful of terrified people demanding to be removed from the fort.

“And go where?” Greta asked calmly.



With no answer to her question, the people had slunk away. Travis wielded one of the five bazookas the fort had. With Kevin’s help, they loaded it up and sent zombies flying in pieces across the battlefield. Despite the tension in the air, they found themselves laughing more than once.



Katarina took out the living dead with terrible accuracy. Being a sniper meant she was a little more up close and personal with the undead as they went down. She could see their ravaged faces, their empty eyes, their mutilated forms before her bullet put them down. Every age, every walk of life, every race wandered into view and every single one was put to final rest. Having lived with fear so long, she was startled to feel peace instead. Instead of feeling rage against them, she felt sorry for them. Every bullet, she realized was a blessing to those creatures. A final exit from their hell. Yolanda sat in the communication center and listened to teams reporting in and Nerit’s voice steadily giving commands. Next to her sat her own pistol. If there was a breach in the wall, she would fight. And, of course, keep one bullet for herself.

In the opulent ballroom of the hotel, the elderly and children of the fort waited. Despite themselves, they had all watched from the windows as the dead had swarmed toward the fort. They had watched mesmerized as the dead had been met with fierce resistance. Now the battlefield was a ruin. Smoke filled the air. Fear and hope filled their hearts.

Katie was gagging on the putrid stench as she reloaded her crossbow. Nothing was moving in her zone anymore. Only a few of the twenty catapults along the wall were still firing, most of those on the east side.

“Is it done?” someone yelled from nearby.

“I don’t have any in my zone,” Lenore called out.

Katie lifted her walkie-talkie. “Hey, what is going on?”

From his point on the wall, Travis could see most of the west side of the battlefield. Only a few severely mutilated zombies were trying to pull themselves along the ground. Kevin craned his neck, trying to look past the smoke.