Remains of the Dead (5 page)

Cahz counted himself lucky. He quickly scanned the surrounding area and focused his attention back on the knot of survivors.

The street was choked with zombies now. Cahz dipped in and out of using his scope, anxiously trying to spot the man with the pipe. He peered through the throng, hoping to glimpse the arm raise that held the sturdy grey pipe. But there was nothing.

“Boss, this is Bates,” Cahz heard over his earpiece. “I’m running dry and there’s no let up.”

Among the legions of walking dead, Cahz could see no signs of a struggle.

“Angel, have you got eyes on the other survivors?” Cahz asked, hoping the view from the sniper’s vantage point would bring good news.

A trio of zombies steadily advanced on the street corner. Getting too close for comfort, Cahz floored them with three well-placed shots.

Angel hadn’t replied.

Cahz again toggled his radio. “Angel, come in.”

“Lieutenant,” came Angel’s Russian tone, “I have situation.”

Cahz turned and scanned the skyline. Silhouetted on one of the rooftops he saw the team sniper. She was standing in a firing position, shooting at something on the roof. In a matter of seconds she had fired a whole magazine from her pistol. Whatever threat she faced, it wasn’t finished with her.

Cahz sighted his rifle on her to get a clearer view through his scope. The feathery white clouds and the low sun scattered the morning light, leaving Cahz to see only the dark shadow of her silhouette. Her ponytail bobbed as she hastily reloaded her pistol. Then, without warning, she turned and threw herself off the rooftop.

Lost from view, Cahz drew back from his sight, frantically scanning for her.

There
.

Three or four floors from the bottom of the building, she dangled on her safety line.

The rooftop now became full of shambling corpses. As they reached the edge of the roof they slowed, confused by their lack of prey. Then the first of them fell. Whether it had stumbled, was pushed from behind, or just hadn’t stopped walking, the result was the same. The corpse tumbled down the face of the building.

The plummeting body narrowly missed Angel as she clung to the building’s façade.

Now a torrent of undead plunged from the roof. Dozens of brainless cadavers hurtled the eight storeys to pile up in a heap of splattered and shredded flesh.

Transfixed by the drama playing out across the plaza, Cahz watched on, his heart pounding. The worst of it was he knew there was nothing he could do to help her. Unconsciously his fingers caressed the toggle on his radio. As much as he wanted to call her he knew better than to distract her. The sniper acted alone, compromising her own safety for the sake of her comrades. Cahz turned his attention back to the street corner and dispatched the fresh batch of zombies encroaching on his position.

Back along the street there were no signs of life. No glimpse of the survivors, not even a knot of undead that might indicate a struggle. Nothing.

Cahz fired a few well-placed shots to thin out the zombies and took one last look into the mob. Reluctantly he turned to his buddy.

“Time to go, big guy,” he said as he patted Cannon on the shoulder.

He toggled his mic. “Okay people, time to bug out. Everyone back to the bird.”

With Cannon in tow, Cahz jogged back to the chopper. The air had the tart taste of spent powder mingling with the reek of festering bodies.

Cahz kept an eye on the team sniper as he made his way back. Dangling from her line, like a spider, Angel had pulled her side arm and was popping shots into the small gathering of zombies lucky enough to remain mobile after their dive off the roof. Her aim looked clumsy for the veteran shot she was. Then Cahz realised she was using her right hand, her left arm hanging loose by her side.

“Cahz, we’ve a problem,” the pilot’s voice came over the radio.

Just yards from the chopper, Cahz didn’t bother to reply over the mic.

“Cannon, go give Angel a hand,” Cahz ordered.

“You got it,” Cannon replied. He peeled off and jogged over to the stricken sniper. He was a huge man, almost as wide as he was tall, but more nimble than a soldier half his bulk. With startling agility he powered over the parking lot.

Gathered around the chopper were the people who had made it through the zombies. They all looked gaunt and exhausted. The young woman, the first to make it past Cahz, was bent double, dry heaving from the exertion. The other survivors didn’t look too much better.

The young men had instinctively assumed a picket and were watching nervously the advance of the zombies towards the chopper.

Cahz turned his head and double-checked behind him. A mob of undead had followed him round from the street but their sluggish gait meant there would be a few minutes before they reached the helicopter.

Bates, at the window of the chopper, was struggling to hold a conversation with Idris over the noise of the blades and the nearby ghetto blaster.

“What’s the problem?!” Cahz called out as he reached the chopper.

“Are you counting heads?!” Idris hollered back.

The disparate group were strung out around the chopper. The young woman was bent double, the eight-year-old girl she’d been carrying was comforting her with her hand on her back. The old woman was unsuccessfully trying to calm the baby in her arms. Even over the deafening sound of the chopper and the blaring ghetto blaster the child’s screeching still cut through it all.

Beside him, trying to look like he was working hard at solving a mental problem, Bates scratched at the short blond stubble on his chin.

Cahz suddenly understood the dilemma. “Ah, shit!”

Before he could ponder the problem further the young woman stepped in.

“Where are the others?” Sarah asked, red cheeked and still gulping for breath.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Cahz said as mournfully as he could while shouting above the noise. When he saw the woman’s face drop he threw in, “I waited as long as I could.”

He looked away from the woman and the burning pain in her eyes. He felt guilty for not saving the others but yet he felt worse still for the news he was about to break.

His gloved hand found a seam of rounded rivets running down a length of the chopper’s skin. He brushed his fingertips over the tiny bumps as he pondered.

“Could we get everyone on-board and try to find somewhere safe to set down?” Cahz knew how stupid an idea that was even before he’d finished saying it.

“Where?” Idris shrugged, playing through Cahz’s suggestion. “Look, we’d be struggling to get airborne with the extra weight even if you could cram everyone in. And if we could take off, where would we get the extra fuel we’d need to get back to Ishtar?”

“What’s the problem?” Sarah interjected, catching snippets of the conversation.

“Ma’am, the chopper only seats five, maybe six at a squeeze,” Cahz admitted. He saw the woman’s eyes dart across the gathered people, taking a mental note of the numbers. “And there are ten of us.”

Cahz frantically tried to pull the problem apart. “Don’t suppose the girl and the baby will be a problem. They can sit on someone’s knee.” Looking across the abandoned car park, the army of undead were doggedly drawing closer.

The big soldier, Cannon, jogged up, Angel trailing behind. Along with his own support weapon, Cannon had Angel’s prize possession, her sniper rifle, draped over his shoulder. Cahz knew Angel’s injury must be severe if she was allowing someone to carry it for her.

Before Cahz could ask Angel what was wrong, the young woman broke in again.

“That still leaves us four seats short,” she said, still focused on the problem.

Cannon said something that Cahz missed over the noise and the demands for his attention.

“The kids’ll fit in fine,” Cahz heard Idris summarise, “but we’re pushing the weight limit. We’ve got enough fuel for the five of us and a few of the pus bags, but they weigh next to nothing. Even if we do stuff this bird full, we’ll be short on fuel.”

Cannon and the young woman were listening intently, although both cast more than an occasional glance at the encroaching zombies.

“Okay, there’s no drag if we don’t use the net,” Idris said, “but we’ll still splash down who knows how short of the ship. And what if the weather turns and we meet a strong headwind? We’ll just ditch a whole lot sooner.”

The scrawny male survivor, impatient to get moving, spoke up, “Could some of us get carried in the cargo net?”

“No, we can’t take the weight or the drag, son,” Idris repeated.

“Anyways, you’d die of exposure before we got back to the ship,” Bates added. “It’s bad enough just getting winched up, but being under that thing for two hundred miles? No way you’d make it.”

“No need for a seat for me dear,” came a frail voice from behind.

The old woman with the baby looked tearful.

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

The baby was hoisted to one side and the old woman pulled her collar down. Where the curve of her neck melded into the shoulder there was an ugly bite mark. Already a deep purple hue surrounded the raged oval of torn skin.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her,” the old woman sobbed.

Cahz watched confused as the thick set survivor walked up to the old woman. Slowly but purposefully he reached down and eased away the swaddling from the child’s face. The baby was screaming. Her cheeks red, her lips pursed, her small lungs howled out a shrill cry. On the corner of the swaddling were wet splodges of blood and across the small child’s face the trail of a scratch mark.

“Shit,” Cahz whispered.

“Oh God no, Elspeth,” Sarah gasped.

“Must have happened when I fell,” the old woman said, turning to the man next to her.

The thickset man stood transfixed by the child. With the back of a finger he stroked the infant’s uninfected cheek while tears ran down both their faces.

“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” she apologised.

“Boss,” Bates broke in, “I’m out of ammo and they’re close.”

“We don’t have time for this, Cahz,” Cannon agreed, a note of agitation in his voice.

Cahz turned to his men and addressed them. “Okay, listen up. This isn’t an order but we’ve more of a chance down here than they do. I’m giving up my seat.”

“Jesus, Cahz, we haven’t survived this long to get fucked by a handful of civvies,” Cannon protested loudly.

Cahz looked his old friend in the eyes. “Like I say, I can’t order you to stay.”

“You don’t give much of an option, Boss,” Cannon said grudgingly. “We’ve stuck together since this shit came down. If you’re stayin’ I’m stayin’.”

Cahz smiled and patted the big man on the shoulder.

Bates tossed his head and said, “I’m taking my seat.”

“I stay,” Angel volunteered.

Ryan stepped in. “No, lady. Your arm’s busted. I’ll stay back.”

“Ryan you can’t—” Sarah started.

“These boys might have the firepower but they don’t know the ground,” Ryan argued. “They’ve got a better chance with one of us to guide them.”

Cahz rubbed the sweat from his upper lip with his gloved finger. The zombies were now close enough to see their gnarled teeth framing their gaping maws. A few more seconds and they would be upon them.

There might have been a better way to solve this problem, but Cahz knew they didn’t have the time to find it. He said, “That’s that settled.”

Cahz grabbed the young woman with both hands and threw her into the chopper. The woman was too shocked to resist and the rotors were too noisy for him to hear her protests.

“Okay miss, in you go,” Cahz said in way of preamble as he scooped up the young girl. As he shoved the girl into the cabin, he called on the scrawny survivor, “You! In the bird now!”

Nathan was ushered into the middle seat.

“Soon as you can, get back here and pick us up,” Cahz said, looking at Idris. His attention then went immediately to Bates, who was retrieving his equipment. “Bates, leave that behind. How much juice is in those batteries?” Cahz pointed at the beat up ghetto blaster.

“Not much, boss,” Bates replied with a shrug. “They’re rechargeable and they’re pre-Zee. If you turn the sound down a bit you might eke out another fifteen, twenty minutes, but I guess about an hour is it.”

Cahz gave a nod. “Okay.”

“Boss!” Cannon’s deep voice bellowed. “Gettin’ a bit close!”

The snarling growl of machine gun fire overwhelmed the dawdle of the chopper blades as Cannon cut a sway through the closest zombies.

“You looking for a decoy?” Bates asked.

“Yep,” Cahz replied.

Bates produced a modified land mine. It was a green oblong with a slight banana curve. Unlike standard issue mines, Bates had been busy modifying this one. One corner had what appeared to be a travel alarm clock duct taped in place. A pair of clumsy wires, intermittently hidden behind more silver duct tape, wound their way into the back of the casing. Cahz had warned Bates about tampering with explosives on more than one occasion, but now wasn’t the time for a reprimand.

“Set a timer on it for, what, five minutes?” Bates offered.

“Make it twenty,” Cahz said. “It’ll act as a distraction. Maybe pull a few away from us.”

Bates made an adjustment to the timer before setting it down and picking up the rest of his gear.

“You packing any more useful toys?” Cahz asked as the soldier perched on the rear seat of the chopper.

“Yeah, sure.” Bates lay down his rifle and unfastened the thigh pouches from his webbing. With a smile he tossed the two packs at Cahz. “Two more claymores, two flares, a smoke grenade and one MRE.”

Cahz caught the packs by their strapping. “Ain’t planning on staying long enough to have to eat army rations. Maybe we can tempt those motherfuckers to eat these instead.”

“Smear it all over you,” Bates teased. “Then no fucker will want to bite you.”

Cannon shouted over the noise with some urgency, “It’s gettin’ tight, boss!”

Cahz rapped his knuckles on the windscreen to get the pilot’s attention. “Get these people out of here!”

Idris gave a nod.

Angel called out from her seat in the front, “Cahz, it’s at least an eight hour turnaround!”

Eight hours was a long time out here and Cahz knew it. But he cocked his head and smiled.