100-Days-in-Deadland(76)

I came down on a knee by a soldier who’d lost his helmet and had been chewed to a pulpy mess. I relieved him of his rifle and knife before rummaging through his pockets to find two fresh magazines. His warm blood soaked my hands, making the mags slippery.

After reloading the rifle, I found a pale Nick nervously waiting for me instead of helping his comrades, his lack of experience all too obvious.

.30 cal machine guns belted out rounds into the darkness.

The first barrack had been nearly cleared by the troops. I tugged Nick’s arm. “Let’s check the other barracks.”

We ran down the long building to the second barrack. Only a few zeds shuffled by its doors and windows. With no lights on inside, it was impossible to see if the barrack was inhabited, but I suspected these civilians had been smart enough to hide from the zeds.

The third barrack was a different story. Its doors were thrown wide open, and the soldiers were firing directly inside. The lights were on, and I couldn’t make out who was zed and who wasn’t.

I ran toward the building, searching for Jase. I wasn’t used to the AR-15 so I got close to the crowd before I fired. My first shot went right through a zed’s brainpan. The rifle had less recoil than I was used to, and I took down two more zeds before running to a more open spot and repeating the process.

The ground was covered with hundreds of zeds, some not moving, some dragging themselves toward prey. But, for every zed on the ground, there were four still on their feet. I didn’t count my rounds, knew I couldn’t have more than a dozen shots left if I was lucky.

When the rifle clicked on empty, I swung it at the zed nearest me. The rifle got tangled in the zed’s clothing, so I let go and dodged to the side, narrowly missing a petite zed. I pulled out the longer bayonet knife I lifted off the dead soldier and planted it through the zed’s eye, and it tumbled backward, collapsing to the ground.

I tried to get closer to the barrack, slashing at zeds, but it was impossible. More zeds were closing in every minute. I was forced to retreat and I ran toward the first Humvee. Manning the .30 cal was Tyler. A soldier leaned against Tyler’s back, clutching a neck wound, but still managing to fire rifle shots at zeds coming at them from behind.

Something grabbed my foot, and I looked down to find a zed missing half its torso gnawing on my boot. I lifted my foot and brought it down on its head, breaking its nose. My next stomp was met with a pleasant-sounding crack of its skull fracturing.

I jumped onto the back of Tyler’s Humvee. The other soldier had collapsed, either unconscious or dead. I relieved him of his rifle, checked him for ammo (found none), and shoved him off, knowing he could turn any moment.

I hadn’t seen Jase yet, so I had to assume he was safely locked inside one of the other barracks. The alternative I couldn’t deal with. As for Clutch, I hadn’t seen any signs of militia yet, and I prayed that he hadn’t been pulled into this cluster f*ck.

Zeds, for all their viciousness, had a tough time climbing. Several relentlessly tried to get onto the Humvee but kept falling back. But, it wouldn’t take long for enough zeds to surround us that they’d literally get pushed up onto the vehicle.

I searched around the bed of the Humvee for a mag, finding nothing for my rifle, but I did pull out a fresh belt of .30 cal rounds from under the pile of used shells and held it up for Tyler. He fed the belt into the gun, gave me a quick nod, and started firing again.

I noticed the Beretta in his holster and I tapped his arm as a heads up before freeing the pistol from his holster. At the back of the Humvee, I shot any zed that got too close. Then I stopped.

“Fuck,” I muttered when I watched the others use the bodies of the fallen to get higher. I swallowed, backed up a step closer to Tyler. We were surrounded on a small island that was about to get a whole lot smaller. I switched from killing zeds to my original plan of kicking them back.

An artillery blast nearby blinded me momentarily, and I remembered Nick’s comment about bringing out the heavies. Through the windows of the long barrack, zeds were tearing into the people, ripping them apart like ravenous harpies. Many people had been dismembered, bodies covering the floors like gnarled stumps, while zed continued to feed. Dark blood covered everything.

Even with all the chaos, the noise and smells around the third barrack drew all the zeds to it. Civilians began to emerge from the other barracks, carrying weapons and joining the fray.

My heart lurched. The familiar saunter was unmistakable. Jase. I watched as he fought alongside Eddy, each teenager firing his own AR-15, and Mutt tucked into a pocket, seemingly fearless. “Be safe,” I whispered before being forced to deal with my own issues.