These Dead Lands: Immolation (71 page)

“Hey, man, this is getting kinda freaky,” Walker said. His head moved from side to side, and his eyes were wide and virtually unblinking. He held his M4 in a death grip, and Everson noticed his finger was on the trigger.

“Walker,” he said calmly, “take your finger off the trigger of that weapon.”

“Huh?” Walker didn’t look at him, just kept glancing in several different directions. It took a second for Everson’s words to register, and when they did, Walker looked down at his rifle. “The safety is still on.”

“That doesn’t matter, Walker. Take your finger off the trigger.”

Walker did as instructed. “Man, I think we should go.” His voice had a petulant note to it that made Everson smile. But as happy as he was to see the bigger man getting more uncomfortable with each passing second, Walker had a point.

“We’re getting to that,” Everson said. “You stay here. I’m going to go inside and see if I can reach Sergeant Ballantine. I’ll send someone out to stand watch with you. But in the meantime, if you see anything, don’t be afraid to shoot. Just make sure it’s a zombie and not a person. Got me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you,” Walker said. He shuffled his feet like a little boy who suddenly had the urge to pee.

“Sit tight,” Everson said. He slipped through the door and walked back into the barracks, his work boots making scuffing noises. He was developing a pain in his right hip, and it was affecting his gait a bit.
Gee, what a great time to need hip replacement surgery
.

Diana strode up the aisle between the rows of bunks, her expression nothing more than hard lines. She walked like a real ball of fire, as if ready to take on every zombie by herself. “What’s going on out there?” Hanging around her shoulder by a sling was the small Sig rifle. She wore her biker girl regalia, including the heavy leather jacket. Everson thought that was wise. Zombies would have a tough time biting through that before she could put them down.

“Looks like things are deteriorating,” Everson said. He looked over at Kay Ballantine, who stood in the aisle with her boys around her. Josh and Curtis looked wild-eyed, but curiously, they seemed less frightened than Walker. “Ma’am, now would be a good time to try to contact your husband on the radio.”

Kay turned and picked up the black MBITR sitting on the bunk behind her.

As she spoke into it, Everson looked at one of the civilians who he felt was likely to remain pretty cool under duress. “Ronny, hop outside and join Mister Walker, if you would. He’s all alone out there.”

“Sure thing.” Ronny was about thirty and whipcord thin. His pale skin was offset by a dark afro, something he referred to as a “Jew ’fro.” Everson didn’t know Jewish people had afros, so that was a new tidbit he’d learned during the zombie apocalypse. Ronny turned to his bunk and grabbed his M4. He gestured at his backpack. “Should I take this?”

Everson shook his head, but then the radio came to life. Ballantine said something to Kay that Everson didn’t catch, but he could tell from the man’s tone that things weren’t good. He motioned Ronny toward the front door. “Take the rifle, leave the pack,” he said, paraphrasing the famous line of “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli,” from
The Godfather
. His wordplay went unnoticed as Ronny hurried for the front door.

Kay held the radio out to Everson. “He needs to talk to you.”

Everson took it and hit the PTT button. “Charlie, this is Devil Dog. Over.”

“Devil Dog, Hastings is headed your way. Perimeter is being overrun. Looks like lots of squirters got past us. You need to stay sharp and think about getting out of there. Over.”

“Roger. How far out is Hastings? Over.”

“Make it one minute or so,” Ballantine said. “I’m about four to five out. We just got transportation. Over.”

Everson nodded even though Ballantine couldn’t see the motion. “Roger that—”

The front door flew open. “Zombies!” Ronny shouted. “And that fucker took the van!”

Everson whirled around. “
What
?”

Without responding, Ronny closed the door. Everson heard three shots in rapid succession, and everyone in the room jumped. Kenny began to wail, and Diana turned to him, then she spun back to the front door, obviously trying to decide what to do.

Everson hit the PTT button again. “Charlie, we have a situation here. I’ve got to bounce. Giving you back to your wife. Over.” Everson thrust the radio back into Kay’s hands.

“Where do you want me?” Diana snapped.

“Here, with Kenny,” Everson said. “The rest of you, get on your rifles and pick a window!”

Everson bolted for the front door, aching hip be damned. He loped right up to it and pressed his face against the glass. Ronny was a few feet off the stoop, firing at something Everson couldn’t see. Everson pushed through the door and shouldered his rifle.

Up the gravel road, zombies tottered toward Ronny. They were still over a hundred feet away, and three were sprawled out on the ground. Ronny had his rifle up and was leaning into it as he fired, drilling zombie after zombie, but a lot of his shots missed their marks. Sometimes, the reekers just faltered for a moment as the 55-grain rounds struck their breastbones or slapped through a collarbone. Expended cartridges already littered the ground.

Everson did a quick scan of the surrounding area to make sure no other ghouls were lurching up on them from behind. He didn’t see any. Nor did he see the big van that had been parked out front. Walker had apparently hopped in and driven away when he saw the zombies. Everson cursed himself for leaving the keys in it, but he’d wanted them where someone could find them if they had to bug out in a hurry. He just hadn’t expected Walker to pull off without waiting for anyone else.

“I’ll kill that fucker,” Everson muttered.

Ronny stopped firing. “Reloading!” There was a hint of panic in his voice as he ejected the spent magazine and fumbled to insert a new one that he plucked from his vest. He dropped the mag, cursing as it clattered across the gravel.

“Slow down,” Everson said. He sighted on the first zombie in the approaching pack and fired. It went down. He targeted a second ghoul, punched its lights out, then moved on to a third and repeated the process. There were eight left.

“Ronny, slow down and concentrate on what you’re doing,” Everson said, cutting his eyes over to where the younger man was bent over, scooping up his dropped magazine.

Eight zombies turned into twenty or so as another pack stepped out from between the barracks down the row.

“God damn it!” Ronny shouted. His weapon back in action, and he raised it to his shoulder, took a second, and fired. A zombie went down.

Everson joined him in firing. Over the gunshots, he heard a crunch of gravel behind him, and for a crazy instant, he thought that Walker had grown a pair and come back for them. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that it was just Hastings in a single Humvee.
Gonna need more than that to get these folks out of here
.

He turned back to the fight. More zombies were joining the pack. Clearly, there had been a secondary breach somewhere along the walls that hadn’t been reported or was just flat-out undiscovered. There was no way that many reekers could have made it so far from the southern wall, which meant they were pushing in from the east. That made sense to Everson. With so many reekers on the move, several thousand were bound to find another way in. The troops in the Gap hadn’t had enough time to completely harden the post.

Hastings added his rifle to the fray, firing as he slowly advanced. Everson stepped off the stoop and did the same, reaching out and drilling the zombies while they were still twenty-five yards out—easy work with a rifle. Ronny mimicked them, though he hung back a bit and concentrated his fire on one small sector of the front.

When Everson made it to the corner of the barracks building, he glanced to his right. More zombies were there, trudging toward them. He heard rifle fire from the rear, which meant the lookout keeping watch on the back door was engaging them. Two runners suddenly broke from the pack and sprinted toward Everson, grunting as they ran across the gravel, ignoring the damage they were doing to their filthy, bare feet.

“Runners!” Everson shouted. He turned at the waist and took them down. It took three shots instead of two, but both ghouls fell and skidded across the rocks on their faces. For an instant, Everson was torn, unable to decide which front to engage.

“Thin them out!” Hastings shouted. “I got this!”

More gunfire rang out from the other side of the barracks. Everson went to work on the pack creeping up the alley between the buildings. One, two, three, four down, and then his magazine was exhausted.

“More behind us!” Ronny shouted.

Everson looked back as he reloaded. Sure enough, there was another gaggle of corpses shambling toward them. One was a screamer, and its forlorn cries were underscoring the gunfire like some ghastly musical accompaniment.

“Hastings! We need to fall back and fight from inside!” Everson shouted. “We’re not going to be able to hold them back by ourselves!”

“Roger that!” Hastings called. “Ballantine and Slater and the rest of the guys should be on their way. Fall back to the barracks. We’ll hold them off from there!”

Everson reloaded his rifle, took down a couple more reekers, then turned back to the front door. He and Ronny engaged the second group while Hastings joined them, blazing away at the first group. Dozens of bodies lay on the ground, the gray gravel surrounding them stained black from the ichor leaking from their heads.

*

“You fuckers are
going to get my ass in major trouble!” the corporal driving the five-ton truck shouted over the wail of its diesel engine.

“Tell your commanding officer that we hijacked your vehicle at gunpoint,” Slater said, a markedly unconcerned tone in his voice. He was jammed up next to the driver while Ballantine sat on his other side, still talking into the MBITR. From the expression on Ballantine’s face, Slater figured things weren’t going very well at the ranch. Not that he expected anything else to be the case. It was pretty clear Fort Indiantown Gap had a major zombie incursion underway.

“You’re damn right I will!” the corporal shouted. “That’s what you guys did!”

“Hey listen, son,” Slater said. “If you’re that upset over it, stop and get out. We’ll take over from here.”

“Are you
kidding
?” the driver asked, as the big truck rolled right through a pack of reekers crossing Service Road.

The truck rocked from side to side but continued without slowing. Slater heard something fall in the truck’s open bed. It was probably Stilley, judging from the jeering laughter that followed the noise.

“What, a big, strong, corn-fed National Guardsman like you is put out by a few hundred zombies?” Slater asked. “Whatever happened to the One Army ethic?”

The driver cursed under his breath as he braked to make a left turn, cranking the wheel hard over.

“Thank God these things have automatic transmissions. Otherwise, you would’ve just shifted me into third,” Slater cracked.

“This shit ain’t funny, Sergeant!” the driver screamed as he nursed the tan-colored truck into the turn.

More reekers shambled close, and a runner threw itself at the truck as it lumbered around the corner. The zombie dropped to the ground as the lightfighters in the back hosed it.

“Hey, we gotta hurry,” Ballantine said. “They’re under attack at the barracks, a couple of hundred enemy closing in on them. They lost their wheels. That fuck-face Walker stole it.”

Slater slammed a fist on the dash. “I
knew
I should’ve used that big pussy as reeker bait!” He threw up his hands. “What the hell is wrong with this country when a truck-driving biker dude can be a raging
pussy
?”

*

Everyone was on
a rifle in the barracks, even Kay Ballantine. Hastings and Everson organized them into fire teams, one on each side of the floor, where they fired through the windows at the coalescing horde moving in to surround the building. Another team, headed up by Hastings, secured the front door. Three more people were at the back door by the shower area. Curtis and Joshua clung to each other on an upper bunk, while Kenny cowered in one of the rear corners, hands pressed to his ears. He shrieked as Diana popped zombies through a nearby window.