Total Apoc Trilogy (Book 2): Fighting the Hordes (4 page)

            "Are they starting to clear out the zombies from around the bridge?" Ralph asked.

            "Sounds like it."

            It was sustained machinegun fire.  There were a lot of men with machineguns shooting.  And Officer Hanks was leading us in that direction.

            "Shouldn't they do that just before we leave?" Olivia asked.

            "Yes."

            We shared a look as we followed the cop through the empty night streets.  Jake said they were leaving before sunrise.  It wasn't even pre-dawn yet.  No light on the eastern horizon, but then it was still pretty cloudy and drizzling.

            "What time is it?" I asked.

            "I don't know," Olivia said, looking at her left wrist.  She had a watch on that she didn't have before.  She started winding it.  "I haven't set it yet."

            "You got a watch at the Army store?" Ralph asked.

            "You didn't?"

            Ralph and I shared an exasperated look.  She could've told us about the watches.  Officer Hanks snorted.  Apparently he didn't appreciate our banter.

            "It's just after 4:40 A.M.," the cop said.  Olivia quickly set her watch to the correct time.  "They're about to leave."

            When we rounded the next intersection, I saw them.  Lots of old, battered looking trucks in a line.  The first three vehicles were huge farm tractors.  They were two big John Deere tractors with so many giant wheels to either side it would barely fit on the bridge.  They had enclosed cabs, and they'd welded some armored machinegun pill boxes on them, too.  All three had huge expandable tillers folded up to fit on the bridge.  The tractors were the only vehicles on the bridge.  All of the defensive fencing had been removed, except for the last one on the far side of the bridge.

Chapter 4

            The tractors started moving forward on the bridge.  The gunfire on the other end intensified.  All of the vehicles started their engines.  And then I spotted Jake getting out of the passenger side of the first vehicle in the convoy to speak with some heavily armed men off to the side.

            I gawked at his command vehicle, a 1970 Chevy Trailblazer with sun-faded red paint.  The top was off, and a .50 Cal was mounted in the rear.  I wanted it so badly.  My dad's pride and joy was his blue 1970 Trailblazer.  My grandfather bought it new, and my dad inherited it when he passed away.  Dad kept it in immaculate condition, and it was a special occasion when he took it out of the barn for a joy ride.

            The lead Trailblazer was followed in line by a pair of late 1960s era pickups, also with crew-served weapons mounted in their beds.  One had a .50 cal and the other two M60s, one mounted atop the cab and the other mid-bed.  Some large cargo trucks and flatbeds followed, all 60s and 70s era.  Then an old Army jeep, followed by five more pickups.  The jeep had a M60 mounted in the back that reminded me of the old TV show Rat Patrol.  All of the remaining pickups, and even the cargo trucks had mounted crew-served weapons.

            In addition to the mounted weapons, every vehicle had a homemade cowcatcher mounted on the front.  I immediately thought "zombie plows" since they would help us plow through the hordes of walkers.

            "Little Duck, we got ourselves a convoy," Ralph quipped.

            "Rubber Duck," Olivia corrected him.

            "Screw you," he snapped.

            "In your dreams," she taunted.

            Officer Hanks looked at us like we were idiots.  He shook his head and pointed at the jeep.  It was painted a matte olive drab and the windshield was down atop the hood.  Despite its obvious age, the jeep looked to be in excellent condition.

            "Your vehicle is the Willy Jeep.  Check it out," he said.  "I hope one of you punks can drive a standard."

            "As a matter of fact, I can," Olivia said.  "I'm the driver.  How fast does it go?"

            He grabbed her arm, giving her a fierce look.

            "You take good care of her.  She's mine," he said, voice full of menace.  "She has a 60 horse power, 4 cylinder flat head, with a t-89 transfer case.  Top speed is about 60, but don't cruise at more than 45 or 50 miles per hour."

            "Let me go, creep," she growled.

            He didn't let go, so Ralph and I charged him.  Olivia pulled her helmet off and swung at his head.  The cop jumped back, hand on his pistol.  Ralph and I stopped to either side of her, ready to fight.

            "Keep your hands off me," she snarled.

            "Leave them alone, Aaron!" Jake shouted, as he headed our way.

            "You heard the commander and chief," I said.  "Go away."

            The cop turned his anger on Jake, marching off to confront him.

            Olivia snorted, whirled around and marched off towards the jeep.  Ralph took off after her.  I glared at the cop a second before following them.

           
Is everyone in Emory a jerk?

            "I'm gunner," Ralph said, climbing inside to check out his new toy.  "Oh man, let the zombie slaughtering begin."

            That left me riding shotgun, and maybe being Ralph's loader during fights.  Did mounted M60s need a loader?  The ammo box mounted next to it

            While Olivia started her up and gunned the gas, and Ralph fondled the M60 like a long lost lover, I checked to see what kind of supplies and gear we had.  There was the spare mounted on back, a jerry can full of gas next to it, with a shovel and axe mounted below the driver's door.  I found two AR15s in holders between the driver and passenger.  In back, the floor was covered with ammo cans, which I opened to find belts of ammo for the M60.  There was some ammo for the AR15s and some .45 cartridges, too.  They'd given us two extra barrels for the M60, too.  A case of old C-Rations completed our supplies.

            "I wonder if the C-Rations are still good?"

            It was my understanding that the military stopped using them sometime back in the 80s.  So they could be more than thirty years old.

            "I think they last forever," Ralph said.

            "Which means they were never really any good," Olivia said.  "But give me one.  I'm famished."

            I tossed her a box and a P38 can opener, and then gave one to Ralph before taking one for myself.  I slipped into the jeep, discovering the thin padding.  It wasn't too uncomfortable, but there were no seatbelts.  I felt kind of exposed and vulnerable without even a door.  Ralph had a two-man bench seat in the back of the jeep.  We tore into our C-Rations.

            My eyes were drawn to the fight on the bridge.  More men were rushing up with automatic weapons.  They had the zombies cleared out for about fifty feet.  That sounds like a nice buffer, but zombies could cross that space in a heartbeat.

            More zombies were lined up along the far riverbank.  Most were still staring across the river at Emory.  A few had turned towards the sounds of battle.  Some were even starting to head in that direction.

            "Hey, you want to call the jeep Willy?" Ralph asked.

            I shrugged.  Ralph and Olivia always named their vehicles.  I didn't get it.  I was more intent on opening a can with my P38.  It was the first time I'd used one of them.

            "That's okay, but I was thinking about 'Old Rat' for Rat Patrol," Olivia said.

            I perked up.  "You noticed it looked like the jeeps on Rat Patrol, too?"

            "You kids finished?" Jake said.  He appeared out of nowhere next to Olivia.  His dark eyes were fierce.  "Hurry up and eat.  We're moving out at 0500 hours."

            "Five minutes," Olivia said, glancing at her watch.

            "Can I ask a question?" Ralph asked.  Jake just looked at him.  "Why do you need the stuff in Carson?  You have a lot of military weapons as it is.  Where did you get it all?"

            For a second, I didn't thank Jake would answer.

            "Last question first.  The man who owns the Army Surplus store also owns the local gun store," Jake said.  "He is a gun fanatic and collector, so we confiscated his personal arsenal when the shit hit the fan."
            "I bet he's not happy," I said.

            "To say the least," Jake continued.  "It's been enough so far, but he didn't have a lot of ammo.  We are running dangerously low.  So really, we are more interested in the ammo at the armory, but will take all they have."

            He handed each of us a pistol.  I don't know a lot about guns, but I knew a Colt 1911 .45 when I saw it.  They looked old and battered, but I had no doubt they functioned properly.  I racked it to chamber a round, set the safety, and then holstered it.

            He handed me a walkie-talkie and some extra batteries.  "This is all we have for communications.  Other than Mike Carter, who is ex-Army, no one knows proper communications procedures, so just know you have to say 'over' whenever you're finished speaking and expect a reply.  And say 'out' when the conversation is finished and no reply is necessary."

            "Over and out, Captain," Ralph said.

            Jake looked at him, shook his head, and walked away.

            "Did I say something wrong?" Ralph asked.

            I shrugged.  "Not that I heard.  These people seem kind of touchy."

            The tractors were almost to the other end of the bridge.  Jake's lead truck drove up onto the bridge, and the other vehicles started following.  Olivia wanted to lift the windshield up.  She didn't want to make it too easy for the zombies to attack us.  I disagreed.

            I grabbed one of the AR15s and chambered a round.  Safety on.

            "With the windshield down, I can shoot all around," I replied, swinging the AR15 back and forth to show her.  "With it up I can only shoot to the right.  Ralph, take care of the left side, don't let any walkers get to Olivia, and I'll take care of the right side."

           
Poof.  Poof.  Poof.
  I looked across the bridge at the now familiar sound of 40mm grenade launchers. 
Boom!  Boom!  Boom!

            The big panel truck in front of us started moving.  Olivia put the jeep in gear and followed. 

            "What are those other two sticks for?" I asked.

            There were three "stick shifters" on the floor between us, one tall and two short.  Since I'd never driven a standard, they confused me.  I knew some commercial four-wheel drives had a lever for shifting between 2-wheel and 4-wheel drive, but that jeep had two extra levers.

            Olivia shrugged.  "This is my first jeep.  I don't know."

            "It's on the left plate on the dash," Ralph said.

            He was correct.  It was detailed for us right there.  The Army spelled it out so I could understand it, even if I couldn't actually do it.

            I shook my head.  "This is going to be a fun trip."

            Everyone drove excruciatingly slow.  I watched the fight at the other end of the bridge.  The men finally pulled the fence straight back and down flat on the pavement.  The immediate area was devoid of upright zombies, but the ground was carpeted with the dead.  Beyond the fighters I saw hundreds, maybe thousands, of walkers heading towards them fearlessly.

            My heart rate ramped up and my hands tightened around the rifle.  Ralph swung the M60 around towards the zombies across the river and let out a short burst.  Hot brass showered me and Olivia.

            "Hey, give a warning," I said.

            Olivia and I put our helmets back on.

            "Sorry.  Just making sure it fired before we got into the thick of it."

            I watched the tractors, with two pillboxes mounted to each of them, drive off the bridge on the other side.  The tractors spread out in line, extended their tillers, and plowed into the zombies, while the machine gunners continued to light up the advancing zombies.  Fighters on foot rushed out to either side of the bridge with crew-served weapons.  More troops followed them with machine guns I'd never seen before that had drum magazines.  They helped clear a path through the zombies all the way to the highway.

            Jake's Trailblazer and the two pickups behind him struggled to drive across all of the dead bodies, but the heavier trucks coming after pulverized the carpet of dead.  By the time we reached the other end of the bridge, it was a slippery, gory mess.  Olivia struggled keeping us moving forward, tires slipping and spinning.

            "We're in the killing zone now!" Ralph cried, opening up to our left.

            The dismounted fighters stayed at the end of the bridge.  Once past them we were open to attack.  Zombies surged at us from both directions.  We lit them up, as did all of the other vehicles, too.  Still, there was so many their line was getting closer and closer.

            The stench was gut-wrenching.  The sight of all those dead was worse.  I couldn't get it out of my head that the zombies were once all good people.  I cursed the godless bastards that developed an agent to turn people into zombies, and then cursed the soulless bastards that used those weapons on other human beings.

            "Driving in this shit is like mudding," Olivia gasped out.

            "You've been mudding before?"

            "No, but I'm sure this is what it feels like."

            Zombies surged out of the woods in greater numbers.  I was tearing through magazines way too fast.  Soon, my ears were feeling numb from my rifle and Ralph's M60 fire.  We were picking up speed.  Jake was already turning north onto I-50 ahead of us.  Most of the zombies seemed to be down by the river and end of the bridge.

            There were so many zombies coming at us that their line was slowly getting closer.  We couldn't kill them fast enough.  All of the vehicles were off the bridge, so the tractors turned around and headed back towards the bridge to either side of the road.  They plowed the zombies under.