The Reckoning - 02 (37 page)

             
“Why don’t you set that up for us,” I said. “No one goes alone and everyone carries a radio. Take a team and check the conex boxes in the Reserve area. If there are any radios, we can use those. If not, we’ll stick with the security radios in the Hive.”

             
John just nodded and headed off towards the main parking lot. I noticed that he had an M-4 slung across his back, but held his bow in his hand. His moccasin boots made no noise as he moved. I also noticed that he’d added something to his ponytail. I wasn’t sure what it meant. It looked to be a feather and some beads. I’d have to ask him about it, later. That left Southard, Matthews, Jade, Spec-4 and me standing around the Humvee. I waited until I was certain that everyone else was out of earshot before continuing.

             
“Alright,” I said, in a quieter tone. “We’ve got another issue to consider.”

             
“What’s that?” asked Spec-4.

             
“We need to be certain that we weren’t followed out here by the
Freemen
,” I said. “If they know about this place, we’re going to have trouble.”

             
“What do you have in mind?” asked Matthews.

             
“We take a couple of teams out and do a sweep of the outer perimeter,” I said. “Check outlying buildings in range of our radios. They might have posted people to listen to our radio traffic or to observe us.”

             
“How likely is that?” asked Jade.

             
“We know for a fact that they were monitoring us at the jail,” I said. “Not to mention the fact that they know which way our convoy was heading when they hit us. If they know the area at all, they can at least figure out the general area we went to if not the exact location.”

             
“How many of them do you think there are?” asked Southard.

             
“No way of knowing,” said Spec-4.

             
“The last thing we need to do is to underestimate them,” I said. “We did that once and it cost us dearly.”

             
Everyone just glanced at each other and nodded.

             
“We’ve got two Humvees left,” I said. “We’ll break into two teams and check the outer perimeter. Stay clear of US 65. It’s crawling with zombies. There’s no way the
Freemen
would be able to come at us from there without getting overran. We’ll check the north side where the businesses are and the south side where all the houses are.”

             
“How will we know if they’re in the area?” asked Jade.

             
“The
jingle-trucks
,” said Spec-4.

             
“The what?” said Matthews.

             
“The hodge-podge cobbled together trucks they use,” I said. “They tend to take normal vehicles and bolt metal plates and spikes on them to use as armor.”

             
“Oh, yeah,” said Southard. “I remember the ones we saw when we rescued Jade.”

             
“They might be good enough to stop a zombie,” said Jade, “but they didn’t do too well against small arms fire.”

             
“That’s good to remember,” I said. “Take out the radiators and they’re boned. Same goes for tires and engines.”

             
I glanced up just as Security Officer Chastain came running towards us. She’d used the radio call-sign “Packer”, and that’s what had stuck in my mind. She had come from the Hive and looked upset.

             
“Grant,” she said, as she ran up. “The Sarge says there’s something going on topside that you might want to take a look at.”

             
“Where?” I asked, tensing for action.

             
“In the sky over the city,” she replied.

             
We all piled into the Humvee. It was tight quarters, but it was the fastest way to the surface. I fired up the big diesel engine and headed for the ramp that led out the south entrance. Seconds later, I was braking to a halt behind the reinforced gate that now blocked the road. I could already see multiple aircraft in the air over the main part of town.

             
We piled out of the Humvee and I grabbed my binoculars from my pack. I started scanning the aircraft to get a better look. Four looked to be fighter craft and one was a much larger cargo plane. It looked like a C-130. From the look of it, they had decided to forgo heavy bombing and were engaging specific targets. The big C-130 was banking and using its mini-guns. I could hear the growling roar and see flames from the muzzle as they strafed what I assumed to be large groups of zombies.

             
“Get ‘em, boys,” I muttered.

             
“They’re really pouring on the fire,” said Southard, shaking his head.

             
When the first missile streaked into the air from a building top, it looked like the Fourth of July. Chaff and flairs erupted from the sides of the big C-130 as it leveled out of its turn and accelerated hard. The fighters banked around and began to pour on the fire into the area where the missile came from. I thought that the C-130 was going to take the hit, but at the last second the missile locked onto a flare and exploded in a huge fireball.

             
“Yeah!” yelled Southard.

             
Then a second missile streaked up from a different area, followed by a third. More flares erupted from the big plane, but this time we could tell that it wasn’t going to be enough. The pilot did his best, but the big plane was just too slow and hard to turn. One missile exploded just behind the portside engine cowling, shredding the wing and engine in the process. Fire leapt from the wing and smoke billowed from the crippled engine. The next missile took off a big chunk of the tail section. The big plane was doomed and was going down in flames.

             
I could hear Spec-4 desperately working the controls on the SINCGARS until she found a station with garbled traffic. Suddenly it came in clearly and I could hear the fear in the voice of the pilot. He sounded young to me. Young or not, he was doing one hell of a job keeping the wounded aircraft in the air against all odds.

             
“Vampire! Vampire!” he called into the radio. “Specter’s hit! Say again, Specter is hit! We are going in!”

             
“Copy that Specter,” said a different voice. “Can you land, over?”

             
“I’m pretty damned sure that’s going to happen, regardless,” he replied. “I’m trying to find a clear spot to put down.”

             
“Good luck, Specter,” said the unknown voice. “You’re on your own.”

             
“Yeah, screw you too,” said Specter.

             
“Specter, this is Rogue 6,” said Spec-4. “Do you copy?”

             
“Specter copies,” he replied. “Who the hell are you?”

             
“National Guard,” she replied. “Can you change course west of your current position?”

             
“I can try,” he replied.

             
“We have assets in the area,” she said. “If you can clear the edge of town we will attempt to extract.”

             
“How do I know you aren’t the ones who shot at us?” he asked, cautiously.

             
“Because they don’t issue Stingers to MP’s,” she replied. “I’m with the 1138
th
MP
[15]
.”

             
“Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice,” he said. “I’ll do what I can. I’ll either see you on the ground or in Hell.”

             
“Copy that,” she replied. “How many of you are there?”

             
“I don’t know who survived the hit,” he replied, “but we started out with fifteen.”

             
“Clear,” she said. “We’ll be there as fast as we can.”

             
“Wouldn’t dream of leaving without you,” he replied. “Specter out.”

             
I watched helplessly as the critically wounded plane shuddered and started to turn. It was trailing smoke and flames. Fire was spreading up the damaged wing and the tail section was shredded. I don’t know how the pilot was able to keep it in the air, let alone control the crash. With tremendous effort, he brought the nose around and angled the plane almost due west. It wouldn’t pass directly over us, but it would be close.

             
“Tell him to put down in the field to the west of us,” I shouted to Spec-4.

             
“Specter, we are almost due west of you,” she replied. “When you see us, try to put down in the field just beyond.”

             
“Copy that, but I don’t see you,” he replied.

             
From behind me, a flare shot into the air. It lit up in bright red and hung in the sky on a small parachute. I turned to see that Jade had fired it. She’d used her emergency gear to signal the plane. I was glad she’d signaled the pilot, but I knew that if the
Freemen
were watching they knew right where we were. Right now, my first concern was getting to the crew of the plane before the zombies did.

             
“We see you,” said Specter. “Adjusting course.”

             
Seconds later, he burned in right over the tops of our heads. He was low enough that we could smell the burning fuel and feel the heat from the fire. Behind us, the fighter jets began to rain down fiery death on the city of Springfield. It looked like half of downtown was on fire. I only hoped that they’d done severe damage to the
Freemen.

             
“Grab the Humvees and one of the Hemmitts,” I bellowed. “Grab anyone who’s got their gear on and let’s move.”

             
Seconds later Webber, Winston, Matthews, John Banner, Bowman and Gunny joined me. Winston dove behind the wheel of one Humvee while Webber took the machinegun on the roof. Spec-4 slid into the turret on the Humvee I grabbed. John Banner and Gunny piled in with me while Matthews and Southard jumped into the other one. Big Johnny Bowman jumped into the cab of the Hemmitt and Jade took shotgun beside him. We were all armed and ready.

             
“Open the gate!” I bellowed.

             
Packer dove inside the truck we were using to reinforce the gate and backed it out of the way. Then Weasel-face opened the gate. Before he was completely out of the way, I punched the gas and shot through the opening. The other vehicles followed close behind me. Since the big plane went down so close to us, I decided to forgo using the road. Instead, I followed the dirt service road that led to the back of the property.

             
The plane had landed in the large pasture behind us. There were still cows in the field, which was good. That meant that the zombies hadn’t made it out this far. The plane hit hard and nosed into the ground, digging a furrow almost fifty yards long. The wings had come off and the tail section was broken away from the rest of the fuselage. I didn’t have much hope that anyone had survived that crash.

             
I headed right at the fence and crashed through the barbed wire without any effort. The others followed my lead and in seconds, we were bouncing across the pasture towards the wreckage. There were small fires all around it with the tail section completely engulfed. I whispered a silent prayer for the crew of the downed aircraft and that the zombies in the area would be attracted to the ongoing bombardment of downtown Springfield instead of the crash site.

             
I could easily count fifty cows in the field around us. I decided right then that we needed to get them inside the Underground. We didn’t need to feed them. We just needed to get them inside the coolers and cut them up. There was enough beef there to feed us for months. Besides that, I would much rather we ate them than the zombies. That would be a terrible waste of steak.

             
I slid the Humvee to a stop as close to the wreckage as I dared. We all started piling out and bringing up our weapons. I motioned towards Spec-4 and Webber to stay on the machineguns. They both swung their weapons out and took up a guard position covering our flanks, just in case the dead should arrive.

             
I headed towards the main section of the fuselage. I could see six men lying on the deck, not moving. As I approached, one of them stirred and looked up at me. There was blood on his face and neck. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a flight suit. Instead, all six of them were wearing ACU’s and helmets. Reaching out, I grabbed him by the arm and helped him to a sitting position.

             
“Who are you guys?” he asked, confused.