The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2) (2 page)

"Copy that Staff Sergeant, we were just trying to
avoid a hole," said Corbett. Neil thought a little of his reckless
attitude slipped at the sound of the irate staff sergeant. The radio began to
crackle again, when he felt the Humvee being lifted up. He blinked and then
remembered no more.

***

Neil, confused and scared, awoke slowly in an unfamiliar
place. Pain laced his eyes and head, as light entered his vision. He found
halogen lights hanging on the ceiling and then scanned the rest of the room. He
lay in the middle of a sterile hospital room, complete with humming monitors.
Why?  He couldn’t remember. He closed his eyes again, trying to clear his head.

"Aw, they said you were awake," came a clinical
voice at the end of the bed. "I see you've moved your head a little. Good,
that's good. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Don't worry about those
right now; you're being taken care of. I'll have a nurse in here in a minute,
she’ll help clean you up and give you some water. I imagine you’re thirsty? 
Just take your time; you had quite a knock on the head. Ah here she is, I'll
talk to you later."

With that, the voice was gone. Neil never said a word to
him, only cracked an eye to see a vague outline. He saw the nurse when she
walked in; it made him feel better already. He laid back and relaxed as she
washed his face and helped him drink. He closed his eyes again; he needed to
rest.

Neil awoke sometime later, not sure how much time had
passed. He felt better, with no pain at the opening of his eyes. He noticed
people standing around his bed, looking down in appraisal. Not people,
officers!  He opened his eyes wider and managed to get a croaky "Sir"
out. His throat didn't work right.

"Rest easy son, you don't need to talk," said the
man. Neil focused, and recognized him; his captain. Beside his CO, looking
worn, stood his lieutenant. Nerves grabbed him; he had tried earlier to
remember what had happened but came up short. He hoped he hadn’t screwed up.

The man started again, "We brought you out of your
sleep private, to tell you what happened. Your Humvee hit an IED placed along
the side of the road. Apparently, the insurgents dug the hole just so someone
would try to avoid it and leave the road. Unfortunately, that's just what
happened. I'm sorry to say that everyone else was killed in the explosion. You
were very lucky to get out of it with just a concussion and two broken legs.

Neil stared at the man, the truth of his words clearing the
haze in his mind. He remembered now, the ride. The sergeant taking the Humvee
off road to avoid the hole. He closed his eyes, thoughts of Blank and Corbett,
both dead now, coming easy to his mind. He couldn't remember the name of the
other guy and he felt bad about it.

"We thought you should know, we'll let you get some
sleep now. The doctor here tells me that you'll be okay, and I can see that
you’re strong. Rest easy private."

The two officers and the doctor said a few words among
themselves and started to leave when Neil gave a forced "Sir".

The captain looked back at Neil, stopped, and let the
others walk past him.

"Yes, private?"

"Sir, will I be able to fight again?"

The Captain didn't flinch, he looked Neil in the eye and
answered, "We don't know private, you'll have to heal first and then we'll
go from there." The Captain seemed to hesitate, then spoke up. "I'm
sorry this happened to you, son. I feel partly to blame. You see, I knew
Sergeant Corbett liked to play loose with the rules sometimes and this time, it
got him and others killed. Remember this Private, and remember it well. Rules
are what keep us alive. Without rules, we die. Without rules, in a crises, or
in a war zone, people die.

Neil looked back up at him and thought of his new friends,
now dead. He would remember! This wouldn’t happen on his watch, not again!

Chapter 1

"Kyle get up!" boomed a voice like a hammer,
which woke Kyle from his fitful sleep. He sat up in the thin cot, almost
falling off the side. He looked up, trying to remember where he was, and
noticed someone looming in the doorway of the casement. Fort Macon. He
remembered and quickly stuffed his feet in the boots he’d left beside the bed.

"What's going on?" he asked. He thought it was
Eric, but all his senses weren't firing; he didn't get much sleep. "And
what time is it?"

"It’s Eric. We got a problem at the front gate, hurry,"
he said and walked back out the open door.

Kyle wanted to ask for more information, but Eric was gone.
He finished lacing his boots, looked at Abe sleeping across the room from him
and asked, "You hear?"

"Yeah," came a mumbled response. "I'm right
behind you."

"Okay, don't forget your rifle," Kyle said as he
leaned over and grabbed his rifle and gun belt.

"Don't need you to remind me what I need,"
replied his grumpy brother. Kyle smiled and headed out the door.

Dark shadows covered the inside of the fort, making it a
treacherous walk. It was still night, but the sky's pink and orange morning
glow slipped over the walls, providing enough light to place his feet safely. He
reached the top of the wall, and noticed Eric and James standing near the edge,
both looking into the distance.

"Okay, what's going on?"

James pointed into the void, where the main road led to the
fort. "Over there, you can see them coming down the road."

Kyle looked at the road, squinting to focus his unwashed
morning eyes and saw three people running towards them. “Diseased” flashed
through his mind, but these people were holding hands, or at least two of them
were. To clarify the answer in his mind, he could see the people constantly
turning and looking over their shoulders. Not diseased. Behind the three of
them, back a hundred yards or so, Kyle recognized the outlines of dark
stumbling forms. Diseased. A lot of them.

"We going to help them?" Eric asked, rubbing his
hand through his black, pirate-like beard. Eric grew hair faster than anyone
Kyle had ever known, and was making no attempt to stop the dwarf-like beard.

"Of course," Kyle said, irritated at the
question. "But how? I don't want to open the gates, if we don't have to. Could
they climb a rope?"

"How would I know that?" Eric answered, equally
irritated over the question. Macon didn’t have many morning people.

"Okay, we just have to open the gate quickly, and then
be prepared to slam it shut. They have diseased right on their tale and we're
going to have to deal with them. James, we're going to need everyone awake and
up here. When you wake Patrick, have him and Jasmine start bringing all the
loaded magazines up here. Eric, get Edmund, and get ready to open and shut the
door quickly. We can't have it open more than a few seconds. If the diseased
get in here..."

Eric nodded his head."I know, we'll get it done."

Kyle held up a hand to stop Eric, "Also, go check on
your uncle. See if he's alright. If he's okay, get him up here also."

"You sure about that?" asked Eric hesitantly. Old
Ben had been bitten and even though he hadn't turned in over two days, some
people were still scared about it. Eric didn't blame them, but it was his uncle
and he wanted Old Ben loose.

Kyle turned and looked at the diseased getting closer. "Yeah,
we're going to need everyone we can get. If he hasn't turned by now, I don't
think he will."

"Gotcha," said Eric and headed for the stairs,
his rifle bobbing on his back. James had already gone. As Eric ungracefully
hurried down the stairs, Abe passed him and joined Kyle on the wall.

Abe looked at the land surrounding the fort. "The
fires spread everywhere last night. It almost looks like a sunrise doesn't it"

Kyle looked again, his breath stopped when he realized what
he thought was a beautiful sunrise, was actually civilization burning. He
didn't have time for more depressing thoughts, the three people were getting
closer.

***

"Eric, you ready down there?" asked Kyle through
the radio he'd clipped onto his vest. They fired up the small generator in
order to power the radios. It ate a lot of their precious fuel, but it couldn't
be helped, they needed the radios. The noise didn't matter; the diseased were
coming their way anyways, and Kyle needed to be able to talk to Eric quickly
and efficiently.

"Yeah, we're all set down here, just give us the word
and we'll open it. We have it unlocked and cracked," came the answer. Kyle
hadn't liked the idea of already cracking the door, but it was so heavy, it
took three of them to unseal it. They needed to fix that. Add it to the list.

"Copy that, we're ready. I'll let you know," Kyle
said.

"Copy that."

Standing next to Kyle were Abe and James, who stood about
five feet on either side. Farther down was Patrick and, Old Ben, whose white
hair made him look like a q-tip walking around. Jasmine had helped Patrick
bring up over ten cans of loaded magazines, which were spread among everyone. She'd
gone back down to be with the kids, but kept a radio on, in case they needed
her.

Kyle squeezed the receiver, the button clicking. "Okay
everybody, we're going to get those people in here quickly, and then take care
of the diseased following them. If they come across the bridge, take them out. Remember,
head shots. The ones closest are our first priority, let the others fall in the
moat if you have to, we can worry about them later. Eric, get those people in
Old Ben's cell right away, don't give them a choice, they might be infected. Okay,
count off."

"XR-1 copy." "XR-2 copies …"

They kept their call signs, just like at the plant, to keep
things easy and familiar. It worked well and they needed easy right now.

Kyle watched the people get closer, their running frantic
and uncontrolled. A man began to wave his arm in the air, his actions
desperate, though he held onto one of his companions. Kyle figured they either
must have seen them, or were playing a big gamble.

 "They see us," Kyle shouted, "start picking
off the closest diseased."

"Eric, they're about 20 yards out."

"Copy, 20 yards."

Kyle let go of the radio, picked up his AR-15 and aimed at
the diseased closest to the survivors. He focused the red dot of his EO-tech
weapon's sight and steadied himself. He pulled the trigger and the gun's
piercing boom traveled across the landscape. Nothing. Kyle cursed and took a
knee. He took his time, placing the red dot on a diseased, pulled the trigger
and was satisfied to see the diseased drop to the ground. Two shots, not bad.

Kyle turned, about to tell people to take a knee, but
noticed them already assuming a prone position. Smart. The unnatural quiet of
the fort vanished as six rifles exploded in the quiet morning. Kyle cringed at
the sound, should have brought ear plugs. He didn't' find another target, but
watched the survivors get within ten yards of the fort. He could see them
screaming something, but the guns kept their voices from him.

"Eric, open the gate," he said loudly over the
radio. He put his ear close to the receiver to make sure he was heard.

"Copy that. Opening."

Kyle dropped the receiver and watched the three people go
under the wall, losing sight of them. He looked up to find the diseased, always
steadfast in their pursuit, within fifteen yards of the front doors.

He cursed, picked up his rifle and added his fire to the
others. He kept his face six inches from the red dot, which allowed him to aim
accurately, but also to see the bigger picture, and the bigger picture was
getting bad quickly. Besides the few dozen that were close, hundreds stumbled
their way down the road towards the fort.

"Keep firing, I'm going to go check on the gate,"
Kyle yelled to those next to him. Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Kyle
ran down the stairs, almost falling on the narrow steps. At the bottom, he
turned around and headed for the large wooden door that stood open under the
wall.

Kyle saw the last of the people squeeze through the crack
they'd made. "Close it, close it," he yelled as he sped to a stop
next to Eric.

"All in, closing," Eric said, and slammed his
body at the door. Edmund followed the example of Eric, and added his
ridiculously small body weight to the door. The door didn't move, so Kyle
joined the other two in trying to push it closed. Nothing. The three struggled
pushing the door, it moved an inch and then got lodged. They still had three
inches to go.

Finally, Kyle stepped back and looked through the crack. He
moved his face closer to get a look when a diseased slammed against the door,
it's gray, bloody face smashing into one hundred and fifty year old, solid wood.
Kyle jumped, almost falling, at the unexpected appearance of the diseased. He
recovered as the diseased reached a hand through the crack, trying to squeeze
through. The diseased stopped when it was smashed into the door by the diseased
that had followed him. The crack in the door filled with the diseased, their
snapping teeth and screeching becoming frenzied at the sight of prey. Only
inches kept them from gaining entry into the fort.

Kyle knew they couldn't win this way, the sheer weight of
them would be enough to swing the door open, and then there would be no
stopping them. Kyle, coming up with an idea, yelled at Eric and Edmund to keep
pushing, and flew back up the stairs, to the firing still going on. Guns were
being tilted at an angle to shoot the diseased on the bridge, but it was too
late now. The bridge was full and getting more so by the minute.

"Hold your fire," Kyle screamed, slapping a few
of them on the backs as he walked behind them. "Everyone, get down to the
front gate and push until it's closed. The infected will be distracted in a few
minutes and that'll be your chance. You can't let it open or we're all dead. Go!" 

The group turned and headed for the stairs, some throwing
questioning glances as they went down. Kyle couldn't help but notice how small
the group was and hoped everyone would be around in a few hours. He grabbed James
as the big man made to follow, and pulled him aside.

"I need your help. You need to lower me down into the
moat and then pull me back out on the other side."

James, eyes dark and stoic, looked at Kyle like he spoke
another language. "You what? You can't go down there. They're going to
drop down there any minute."

"That's the point man," said Kyle. There was no
time, even now the door could be being pushed open. "We need to distract
them, so we can push the door closed. There's too much weight on it now, there
are more of them than us. We don't do this, it's all over. Don't worry, I'm not
sacrificing myself, this should go off relevantly easy." He hoped.

James wasn't convinced, but recognized the urgency in the
situation. He nodded and followed Kyle to the edge of the inner wall, taking a
rope Kyle had picked up.

The increase of moans and growls hastened Kyle to action,
if not fear, but he focused on the getting down to the bottom. After that, he
could run scared, yelling the whole way. James wrapped the rope around his
waist and shoulders, braced himself and nodded. Kyle took the slack out of the
rope and leaned back over the edge, putting all his weight on his friend. The
inner wall stood twenty feet high from the bottom of the moat, but Kyle
repelled down like a squirrel. He saw the ground nearing him and jumped the
last few feet, landing on the frozen ground.

Kyle let go of the rope and turned to see a diseased fall
off the bridge, scream all the way down and land ten feet from him. Kyle, having
left his rifle on the wall, pulled out his 9MM berretta and shot the thing in
the head, before it could stand up.

"It's now or never," Kyle said, and began yelling
and waving his hands to get the attention of the diseased above. He was about
to shoot a few of them, when he was seen and they started dropping over the
side. The first few hit the same spot, crashing into each other, making it easy
for Kyle to dispatch them, without getting too close.

More of them began to hit the ground, their bodies bouncing
off the three he'd already killed. Kyle took a good position, stance solid, and
waited for a good shot. It took a few seconds for the diseased to get
coordinated enough to chase their prey. This continued for over a minute, in
which Kyle killed ten of them. Kyle ejected his magazine, inserted a new one,
and racked the slide. He watched as seven diseased stumbled off together, all
crashing limbs and howls. It was getting busy.

Time to go. Kyle took a step back, toe first, right into a
small hole, lodging the toes inside. Kyle, heart racing, looked down and tried
to straighten out his tangled foot. Freed, he pushed off and stood back up
ready to go, but fell again when a diseased male ran into him.

Kyle kept his wits, barely, and pushed the male's head to
the ground before he could recover. Kyle never saw his face, but he had short
hair, covered in ash and dirt. The man's clothes, coated in ash, hid any color
that once belonged to them. The man didn't rise, but used his hands to reach
for Kyle, clutching his shirt with skinless fingers.

Black and crispy hands pulled at Kyle, yanking him toward
the man. The man's burns went all the way up his arms, his shirt having melted
into the skin. Kyle kept the man's head pushed into the dirt, between his legs,
and tried to shimmy back. His hold on the man's head became weaker until Kyle
pushed it one last time, and slid backwards to regain his feet. In the
confusion of the struggle, Kyle had dropped the beretta, which he now noticed
was a few feet away. Without thinking, Kyle kicked the man in the chest(more
like the stomach, as he wasn't that flexible), and the man was thrown backwards
a few feet. Kyle dashed in and grabbed the gun, only taking his eyes off the
diseased for a second to do so.