Divided We Fall (10 page)

Chapter
17

The truck bounced
through a patch of broken roadway and downed trees. Brad positioned himself
high in the bucket to lean over the cab of the truck. Balancing on the piles of
garbage as the big vehicle lumbered over potholes, he looked far to the east. The
horizon was glowing bright orange from both the flames of the burning fire and
the perimeter gate’s spotlights. The gunfire had decreased in the last hour;
now only the occasional gunshot or burst of automatic weapons fire would break
the air.

He lowered his
binoculars and moved his attention to the shoulder of the road. Primal
silhouettes backlit by orange flames swirled in the tree lines, their hands
rising to greet the passing vehicle. Some ran from the burning forest, escaping
the flames, and leaving the cover of the trees to pursue them on the road. Some
stayed back out of range, following the truck’s movements, while others swarmed
in close, shadowing to it like parasites. Brad looked at the things near the
shoulder and saw worn and ashen faces, their clothing smoldering, hair singed.
They held no sign of humanity, like hollowed out mannequins with no soul and no
want of anything other than to feed. The thought pushed a shiver through his
body.

“This shit is
creepy, man. We gotta get out of here,” Axe mumbled.

Brad turned and saw
that the stocky soldier had moved up beside him, his rifle clutched tightly in
his hands. The truck stopped suddenly and Brad fell forward against the cab. He
watched as Axe banged into the bucket and nearly tumbled back into the loose
bags of garbage before catching himself. Brad used a free arm to steady his
body then strained to look ahead.

His attention was
caught by the sound of the driver’s window rolling down and Roberts shouting,
“Sergeant, you need to see this.”

Brad gripped the
edge of the bucket and looked to the horizon. “Oh hell,” he gasped.

“Where do they all
come from?” Axe asked.

The truck rested in
the center of the empty road. Far in the distance, a deep crowd hundreds of
Primals wide and at least a mile long was moving through the smoky mist. They
were pouring out of the trees and marching to Combat Outpost Savannah, pushed
forward by the fire. Brad felt Brooks’ presence beside him just as the SEAL
snatched the binoculars from his hands.

“I don’t think this
was a diversion; whoever did this intended to wipe us out. We’re less than a
mile from the gate, and that’s where the mass is headed.”

Axe stepped back;
Brad watched the younger man push away from the cab, his hands trembling. “We
need to turn around and go back the other way.”

Brooks reached into
a cargo pocket on his left leg and removed a bottle of water. He twisted off
the cap and handed it to Axe. “Here, take it easy, drink this,” Brooks said.

“What the hell are
you all talking about? Why would anyone want to wipe us out?” Axe sputtered.

“Just drink,”
Brooks said.

Axe grabbed the
bottle and gulped thirstily. When he stopped, he used his sleeves to wipe the
water away from his chin, taking in deep breaths before handing the nearly
empty bottle back. Brooks took it and put the cap back on then said, “Tell me,
Axe, outside of this place, who else does Savannah have contact with?”

“What do you mean? There
isn’t anything else besides this ’cept a couple holdouts along the coast. Heard
there was some kind of thing goin’ on in Texas, but nothing like this,” Axe
said. “We’re it.”

“Is that the
consensus around camp then?” Brooks asked.

“Consen-a-what?”
asked Axe, his face screwed up like he was in pain.

“Is that what
everyone thinks?” Brad blurted out impatiently.

Axe looked around
and nodded. “Yeah—I mean
we are
all that’s left. There isn’t anything
else out there; D.C. is gone, the president’s dead. Nothing.”

Brooks grinned.
“It’s not true, Axe; there are people left. Big groups of them from what I have
heard, and not everyone is playing nice these days, either. In addition, there
is something all of them want, and it’s located on Outpost Savannah. Something
important.”

Axe shot Brooks a
confused glance. “What? You mean like food or something?”

Brad let out a short
chuckle and shook his head. “There could be a cure, or a way to help us get
it.”

“Damn! You serious?
Then why the hell… I mean, why would someone do all this?” Axe asked.

Brooks reached out
and put a hand on Axe’s shoulder. “Because they either want it, or they want to
keep us from getting it.”

“Well…” Axe put his
head down then snapped it back up. “We can’t let them get it, now can we?”

Brooks shook his
head. “No, Axe, we can’t.”

“How we going to
stop ’em? C’mon, there’s just five of us, and the whole outpost is being
overrun.”

“How many rounds
you have left on the SAW?” Brooks asked.

Axe shrugged and
pulled the weapon in close to his chest. “Bout a box and a half.”

“Good!” Brooks
reached over the bucket and pounded his fist on the roof of the cab. “Let
roll!”

The truck’s gears
ground and the oversized vehicle lurched forward. Looking to the side, Brad
could see that Primals were being attracted to them and gathering on all sides,
following them. “Earlier, you said you had a plan. Is this part of it?” Brad
asked.

“I lied; I don’t
have a plan,” Brooks responded. “Let’s get eyes on the gate and see what’s
shaking.”

Brad clenched his
eyes closed tight, trying to block out the smoke. He reached up and pulled his
goggles down then grabbed the balaclava around his neck to pull it up over his
mouth and nose. The smoke was growing thicker, forming heavy clouds that hung
over the roadway. The dying of the sun brought on dark, oily blooms of smoke
that glowed with a foul orange as the flames cut through. “This isn’t going to
end well,” Brad whispered, keeping his eyes on the road.

“No, I’m thinking
not,” Brooks answered.

The truck moved
into a tight cluster. Roberts slowed slightly but maintained his course,
pushing Primals that refused to move under the large wheels of the dump truck. The
vehicle pitched slightly as the bodies crunched under its treads. Some Primals
howled and some threw their bodies at the sides of the truck, but most just
followed alongside, waiting for their moment. The crowd grew around them,
morphing into a tightly packed cluster of burnt and singed bodies.

“There are just so
many of them,” Axe said.

“Yeah, but it’ll
make it harder to miss,” Brooks said.

The gates of
Savannah slowly became visible through the heavy smoke. The sandbag bunkers
positioned outside the gate were abandoned. A Humvee sat burning, its entire
frame engulfed in flame. Tall chain link fences reinforced with steel plates,
tight strands of cable, and razor wire still stood, locked and secured. The
mass of Primals pressed tightly against it, their bodies causing the gates to
heave and pulse with their movements. Fires raged on the far side of the gates,
and sporadic gunfire still rang out from somewhere inside the outpost while the
thumping of a helicopter echoed from the south. Two tall watchtowers—one on
each side of the gate—were empty, the tower windows shattered.

“Main gate is
abandoned,” Brad said.

“Guards probably
pulled back to defend the airfield,” Axe said. “We used to drill that all the
time. The perimeter will shrink as areas fall.”

The dump truck
approached cautiously and stopped in the middle of the road still fifty meters
from the gates. Brad pointed to a cluster of Primals on the far side of the
fence. “Gates are closed; how did they get in?” he said.

Brooks leaned over
the side of the truck’s bucket and looked down; Primals in all directions
clustered around them, pushing against the truck. Brooks pointed to the right
of the gate; a small blacktop road followed the fence. “That maintenance road
goes all the way around the camp. Let’s follow it. There must be a breach
somewhere.”

Brad smacked the
top of the cab and relayed the instructions. Again, the truck heaved forward as
it made its way to the maintenance road that ran parallel to the fence.
Navigating slowly, the mass stayed glued to their sides. The truck passed the
first of the abandoned bunkers then veered around and down, making a sharp turn
between the bunker and the gates then onto the empty road. Brad looked behind
and saw the mass shift and roll, heaving and following them onto the
maintenance road.

“Wait, stop!” Axe
shouted.

Brad slapped the
top of the truck, causing Roberts to hit the brakes. He turned, looking at the
pale face of Axe. “What?”

Axe looked at them
sheepishly. “If we drive to a hole in the fence, we’re going to lead all of
these things right to it. We’ll let all of them in.”

Brooks bit his lip,
trying to conceal his surprise at Axe’s astute statement. He nodded then used
his forearm to wipe away the sweat on his brow. “He’s right,” Brooks said. “We
can’t stay in this truck.”

Brooks jumped out
of the bed and onto the cab of the truck; he skidded across its roof then
dropped down on the vehicle’s hood. His movements frenzied the mob, their
screams and moans increasing. Roberts rolled down the driver’s window and
yelled out, “What the hell are you doing?”

“See if you can get
the front of the truck nice and close to the fence.”

The truck lurched
forward slowly, pushing the Primals out of the way. The front end touched the
fence then screeched as it scraped against it. Brooks, kneeling on the hood,
showed Roberts the palm of his hand to halt the truck
’
s
movement. “Brad, get up here and cover me,” Brooks said.

Brad pulled himself
out of the bucket and onto the top of the cab; he unslung his rifle and watched
the SEAL. Brooks tugged on his gloves, getting them tight; he then slung his
rifle to his back. He swiveled his small assault pack around to his chest and
readied a section of rope, counting it out and tying a knot at the halfway
point of its length. He put his hands to the fence and tugged. “I’m going to
climb up and over. If the crazies on the other side notice me, put them down.
I’ll secure the far side then the rest of you join me.”

Axe shook his head.
“Hell no, I ain’t climbing no fence.”

Brooks smiled back
at him. “Sounds good; you stay back here and guard the truck. Roberts, get that
windshield kicked out; I need you and Stretch over next—Brad, you got me
covered?”

Brad placed the
stock of his rifle in his shoulder. “I got ya, buddy.”

Brooks jumped and
grabbed the fence. Digging in with the toes of his boots, he quickly scaled the
near side and reached the top bar. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled
himself over the top then straddled it and secured the rope. “You got me?” he
asked, looking to Brad.

Brad shot him quick
thumbs up, and Brooks quickly rappelled down the other side. He dropped to the
ground in a crouched stance, readying his rifle and moving out away from the
fence. Brooks’ position on the ground enraged and attracted the Primals around
them. The ones close enough to see pushed against the fence, causing it to
sway. “Let’s go, Boone; you’re next,” Brad called out.

The tall soldier
pulled himself through the broken windshield. He pulled the rope to check its
strength then, as Brooks had, he quickly scaled up and down the other side. Roberts
climbed out and did the same. Brad turned to see Axe pacing the bucket.

“Let’s go, Axe;
waiting on you, buddy,” Brad said.

“I ain’t good at
climbing,” Axe answered.

A suppressed
gunshot and flash of light took Brad’s attention. Brooks was engaging a small
group. Three bodies fell to the ground one after another. He looked up at Brad,
waving his non-firing arm, urging them to hurry. “Let’s go, Axe! No time for
this,” Brad said.

Axe moved to the
front of the bucket and pulled himself onto the cab then crawled across and
dropped to the hood. “I’m not sure I—”

More suppressed gunfire
from the far side cut him off. Brad saw Brooks firing at a larger group moving
from the shadows. He lifted his own weapon and fired at those that were closest.

“Move your ass!”
Brad shouted. He kept his rifle on the closing Primals as more broke out of the
shadows.

“They’re on to us; we
gotta beat feet!” Brooks said. “Let’s go, Brad; spider man over that damn
thing!”

Brad pulled down
his rifle and spun it around to his back; he jumped to the hood, listening to
the steady cadence of Brooks’ rifle. Looking up briefly, he could see Brooks
had them under control for the moment. Axe was partway up the fence when Brad
tightened the straps on his gloves and grabbed on, pulling himself up with his
arms as he pushed with his feet. Scrambling, he was soon alongside Axe. Brad
stretched and reached the top bar. Throwing a leg over the top, he locked
himself in with his legs then tugging at the rope, he pulled with everything he
had to try to help Axe reach the top.

When he was close,
Brad lay against the top bar and reached down for the stocky man’s harness. He
strained and heaved. “Damn, you’re heavy,” he grunted.

Axe was able to get
his right arm on the bar; he pulled up and nearly tumbled over the far side
before Brad was able to steady him. Axe was panting, his face covered in sweat.
“I told you I wasn’t no good at climbing, Sergeant.”

“No problem, no
more climbing. Slide your ass down that rope; I’ll be right behind you.”

Axe nodded his head
and adjusted his grip on the rope. Grabbing the second section, he dropped his
legs over the far side and slid down the rope nearly out of control. Brad heard
him thump to the bottom. Not wasting time, Brad grabbed the rope and, gripping
tight, dropped over the edge, quickly going hand over hand until his feet
touched the damp grass.