Winter Apocalypse: Zombie Crusade V (16 page)

“Oh, wait, we do have a bunch of stuff over there I forgot about . . .” he mumbled.

Charlotte already had her coat on; she seemed to be in a hurry. Zach knew that she must be expecting Luke to expire any minute. Maddy was keeping Lucy busy in the kitchen while still keeping an eye on Gracie and Luke. Gracie was oblivious to everyone except her husband.

As soon as Zach and Charlotte were out the door, she turned to him and started talking a mile a minute. “I know some trustworthy guys who would be discreet about Luke; I mean, everyone is expecting it, but I think people still are hoping that he can beat this thing. The way Carter and the others tried to bleed him out right after he got bit, well, if anybody could survive a bite it would have been Luke, but I don’t think he’s gonna last much longer. I’ll go tell—“

“Hold up a minute, Charlotte. We’ve got this under control. Maddy and I promised Jack that we’d handle it.” Zach was surprised to hear himself discussing this so calmly. “We don’t want to burden Gracie, and we don’t like deceiving her, but we know what needs to be done. Maddy is going to distract Gracie for me; you might want to get Lucy out of there when it’s time.”

Charlotte blinked a few times, uncharacteristically speechless. Finally, she nodded. “So you guys had all this planned before Jack left?” It was a rhetorical question. “I should have known.”

Zach looked at the ground. “Do you think it will be soon?”

“I’m sorry, honey, but yeah. Are you okay? I mean, I know Jack would understand if you can’t—”

“No, I owe Luke this. And Jack. They’d do it for me.”

“Has Gracie slept at all? Have any of you?” Charlotte was concerned for their health, but more worried about the possibility of impaired judgment.

Zach reassured her, “We all dozed, off and on.”

“Okay, grab some powdered milk and blankets from your cabin so it looks like we had a reason to leave. I don’t think Gracie is paying much attention to us, but I don’t want to take any chances.” She paused and wiped away a tear. “I don’t think he’ll make it through the morning.”

Far to the north, the uneasy standoff between humans and hunters  was about to end as Chuck guided his Blackhawk into position behind the two enemy choppers flying side-by-side along the riverbank. Todd Evans shouted into the bay from the co-pilot’s seat, “Jack, grab my .308!”

“I don’t know if the rounds from your M1A can penetrate that bird,” Jack yelled back.

“Me neither, but you can put some rounds on target; maybe the pilot won’t wait around to learn whether he’s safe or not.”

Jack realized the sniper had a good point, so he accepted the rifle being handed to him and slid the bay door open a few inches on his side. With both shooters now ready to fire, Chuck called over the headsets. “I’m gonna fly right between those two Blackhawks. That’s one word, Carter. I’ll try to slow down once I’m in position, but you guys will just have to pick your spots and let it rip. I doubt that you’ll even have to hit anything to send these jack-asses running.”

Neither Jack nor Carter responded as they watched the tail rotors of the enemy helicopters come into view. Chuck was still flying much faster than the two choppers, but he was obviously trying to slow as much as possible. Both shooters knew that hitting a flying machine with bullets was incredibly difficult, and nailing one while firing from another aircraft was nearly impossible. But they were going to pass right between two Blackhawks separated from one another by less than two hundred meters; putting lead into either bird at that distance could be done with a great deal of skill, and more than a little luck.

Jack could, and regularly did, match Todd shot for shot on the range, but Carter was simply a natural shooter. He didn’t have the patience to master the intricacies of hitting targets half a mile away with the help of technology and a spotter, but as a hunter with a good gun in his hands, he just didn’t miss. Luckily for everyone, Carter considered this a one-shot hunting opportunity. He heard Jack open up with the .308 as they began to slip between the enemy choppers, but he held his fire until Chuck had flown past the targets and the front of the cockpits came into sight. Carter sensed the enemy pilot lifting his aircraft, so he instinctively aimed at the top of the glass and pulled the trigger.

Todd was watching the scene unfold through his field glasses, and later swore that Carter’s round struck true. The enemy Blackhawk didn’t go down, but it wobbled furiously for several seconds before turning to the north and gaining speed as it raced away from the gunfire. Jack had no idea if any of his rounds had been on target, but the helicopter he was aiming at quickly fled south as he emptied the magazine in its direction.  

            
 
David immediately handed an M4 to Carter, while Jack reloaded the .308 he was using. Chuck sent the chopper into a tight turn, and when he came out of it the Blackhawk was pointed back toward the ragged fleet of small boats and canoes holding their friends and loved ones. Jack and Carter opened up on the hunters still standing along the banks, finding the monsters perfectly silhouetted against the bright, snowy background. The flesh-eaters were already looking confused without the presence of the signaling device used by the enemy helicopters, and the bullets smacking onto them from a direction they couldn’t determine sent many of the creatures searching for shelter. Being afraid of the water, most of the beasts moved away from the river as they scrambled for nearby brush and wood-lines to hide in.

As they flew ove
r
the now-floating fleet, David called back down to Christy. “We’re headed out to the highway bridge; Chuck will hover above the river after dropping us off. Everything going as planned down there?”

“We’re good here; I’m trusting you guys to be careful up at that bridge.”

“We always are,” David replied with his tongue firmly in cheek.

“David, I’m not joking around. These hunters are better fighters than what we’re used to seeing around here. If they flank you guys, you’re dead. So yeah, be damn careful.”

“We will, everyone up here has fought the 2.0 version of these monsters, and we’re not taking anything for granted. Just keep your folks moving down there.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

David handed the mike back to Todd and turned to the rest of the team. He shouted over the rotors, “They’re on the move down there. Time for phase two?”

Jack nodded as he and Carter accepted the five-gallon buckets of cattle-blood handed their way. Chuck flew slowly across the path of the hunters beginning to creep along the southern bank in response to the boats moving eastward. From a hundred feet up, the first containers of blood were poured out in front of the advancing flesh-eaters, the wash of the rotors spraying the dark red fluid across the glistening, white, Indiana landscape. The result was a crimson-splatter over a hundred square meters below the chopper.

“Now that’s purty!” Carter shouted above the engine.

“Looks like a blood-flavored sno-cone,” Jack added.

Before they could see if the hunters accepted their offering, Chuck flew over the bank on the north side of the river and they repeated the process. By this time, the first of the creatures were coming up on the bloody snow, and sure enough, most of them tried scooping some of the mixture into their mouths. More and more of the monsters began to congregate around the red-slop, drawn by the frenzied actions of their pack-mates in addition to the wonderful odor carried on the breeze. Next came step three.

With a target-rich environment now presented below them, Jack and Carter pulled out the dynamite-bombs John and Tina had put together for the mission. Each stick of explosive was surrounded by tightly wrapped nails and other types of shrapnel. Chuck hovered over the crowd of hunters on the north side of the river while four of the makeshift bombs were tossed out of the bay doors. He then had the chopper halfway to the second gathering before the explosions shook the air.

As soon as the attack on the southern pack was complete, they flew over the scene to assess the results of their efforts. The snowy terrain was now splattered with the blackish-red blood of dozens of dead and injured hunters, in addition to hundreds of pieces of flesh and other body parts. The explosions hadn’t killed as many monsters as had been hoped for, but the violent assault from the air had once again sent the surviving beasts running for cover. The trail of the fleet was now well downstream from the stalled horde, so Jack ordered Chuck to fly to the bridge.

CHAPTER 14

Maddy couldn’t hide the fear etched on her face when Zach and Charlotte returned. “His heart rate is slowing,” she informed them. “He’s dropped to forty beats per minute.”

“I made everyone breakfast,” Lucy declared with pride. “Gracie, come eat some oatmeal and let me sit with Luke.”

Gracie noticed that Charlotte looked alarmed, and she was offended. “Do you think that Luke is a danger to your daughter?” she snapped.

“Of course not,” Charlotte lied. “So you’ll come eat while Lucy sits with him?”

Gracie was still at Luke’s side, holding his right hand close to her face. “I’m not really hungry, but if you’re going to make me eat I’d rather do it from here.”

Lucy skipped over to Gracie with a bowl of steaming oatmeal. “Don’t worry, Gracie. He’s gonna wake up.”

Gracie’s voice cracked as two big tears slid down her puffy cheeks. “He’s not just asleep,” she whispered.

“I know,” the little girl responded, “but he’s just visitin’ – he’ll come back to you.”

Charlotte stared at her daughter, who returned her gaze. “Don’t worry, Momma. It’s not like with Daddy. That light around Luke is keepin’ him safe from the eaters.”

Gracie looked hopeful. “What light, Lucy?”

“Can’t you see it? He’s glowing, real purty.” She pointed at Luke’s head, “Right there.”

Charlotte pulled her daughter close. “You are a blessing, sweetheart. How’d you end up so smart at nine years old? Can you do a favor for me?”

The little girl nodded.

“Go tell your brother what  you just told us. Maybe Maddy can take you—”

“I need to stay here,” Maddy cut in. “I mean, I want to . . .”

“I will be here,” Charlotte said definitively. “I can take care of anything that Gracie or Zach might need. I would really appreciate it if you could get Lucy to her brother. And stay with her.”

Maddy felt a little guilty for the relief that swept over her—she didn’t want to leave Zach, but she was dreading the idea of watching Luke fade away and betraying Gracie’s trust. “Okay,” Maddy agreed. “If Zach doesn’t mind.”

Zach understood exactly how Maddy was feeling. “Go,” he said. “I’ll switch you later. You should get some real sleep in the meantime. Lucy, will you make sure that Maddy goes to bed at your place? She can be really stubborn, but I think she’ll listen to you.”

Lucy felt tremendously important. “Of course, Zach. You can count on me,” she said earnestly.

Maddy tried half-heartedly to sound annoyed, “It’s a good thing I like you, Lucy. We’re gonna have to have a little talk about how us girls need to stick together.”

Less than a minute after Maddy and Lucy left, Luke started to seize again. It wasn’t as violent or long-lasting as the previous one, but Charlotte thought it was devastating.

“You should have seen the last seazure,” Zach explained. “This wasn’t half as bad.”

“That’ a good sign, right?” Gracie looked from Charlotte to Zach. “I think Lucy is tuned in to something that we’re too old to understand. I really think Luke is going to make it.”

Nobody said a word for several minutes as they watched the mostly peaceful Luke occasionally twitch. Finally, Gracie suggested, “We should check his heart rate again.”

Charlotte dutifully took Luke’s left wrist in her hand and began counting. She shook her head after thirty seconds or so, then started over again. Then she repeated the process once more. “Thirty-four, the first one was thirty-six. I’m sorry.”

Gracie shook her head in disbelief. “That can’t be right; try again.”

Charlotte reached for Luke, but then drew back. His breathing became very rapid and shallow. He arched his back and made what could only be described as a feral howl. They all jumped back from his bedside, even Gracie.

Zach instinctively put his hand on the gun he’d concealed under his oversized flannel shirt. He knew that Luke was supposed to die on his own. As far as Zach could tell, Luke had yet to slip away. Still, that sound . . .

Luke’s entire body shuddered, then he didn’t move at all.
“Is he breathing?” Zach whispered, still resting his hand on the spot where the gun lay hidden beneath his clothes.

Gracie glared at Zach. “Of course he’s still breathing,” she whispered hoarsely.

Charlotte reached over and placed her fingers where she thought Luke’s pulse should be, if he still had one. At first she felt nothing but the clammy coolness of Luke’s skin, then she moved her fingers a few inches forward and felt the steady beat of life coursing through his body. “He’s still alive,” she murmured incredulously.

Zach couldn’t look at Gracie when he asked, “How do we know it’s still Luke?” 

Charlotte quickly took several steps back. “I’m not sure . . .”

“Get back, both of you,” Gracie hissed. She bent over Luke and began to stroke his hair. Zach silently pulled out his weapon.

“Luke, honey, open your eyes,” Gracie prodded in soothing tones. “I really need you to open your eyes.”

Neither Charlotte nor Zach expected a response, but it was Gracie that cried out in surprise when Luke’s eyes popped open. They were coal black—the eyes of a hunter.

As soon as Highway 30 came into sight, everyone on the chopper quietly hoped that the refugees would soon pass by. The ramp to the bridge was acceptably elevated on the north bank, but the southern approach was low and flat. Still, there was nothing any of the would-be rescuers could do about the structure now: they had a battle to fight. Everyone was raring to go as soon as the Blackhawk landed on the middle of the bridge; nine men, two women, and two dogs rushed from the bay doors and headed out to prepare defensive positions. Jack, David, and four more men headed to the southern, most exposed section of the span. Carter led three fighters, a dog trainer, and two canines ready for war, to the north.

Everyone had a rifle of some type, mostly AR-15s, in addition to their usual assortment of weapons and armor. Perhaps the most important pieces of equipment the soldiers brought along on this mission were snow shovels. Six of the scoops were divided between the two groups, and everyone took turns clearing the asphalt beneath their feet. Jack wished they had time to drop trees and prepare some proper defensive positions, but Chuck had just warned them that the hunters were less than a half-mile away. The first of the boats carrying the refugees had already floated under the bridge, but the fleet was stretched out over hundreds of meters and wasn’t moving very fast. No matter what, Jack knew his team had to hold the flesh-eaters back for at least ten minutes, and then somehow safely retreat while in contact with the monsters.

The fighters’ greatest advantage in the coming struggle was the deep snow drifts piled up to the west of the bridge, especially along the state-installed fence running parallel to the highway. Christy’s memory of the location had been spot-on. In spite of the impressive development of strength and speed in the infected as they consumed protein, they were still bi-pedal primates. The creatures would sink in the snow just as easily as a human. Jack, Todd, and a few others would make some head-shots as soon as the hunters appeared in the nearby trees and brush, but most of the team-members would have to wait until the creatures were quite close before firing. The drift would hopefully slow the monsters at just the right distance for all rifles to be effectively utilized.     

The team didn’t have long to wait to find out if their theories about the snow slowing the flesh-eaters had merit, as the hairy, scar-covered creatures began appearing between the trees in the distance. Todd’s rifle roared from where he’d rested the fore-stock on the bridge railing, and even at a hundred meters, everyone saw a large monster’s head disappear in a spray of black and gray. A ragged cheer went up from the waiting human warriors.

Most of the first shots missed, but the startling result of the hail of gunfire was the evasive maneuvers many of the monsters began to display in response to the threat. Even in the middle of a fight, Jack’s brain worked through several possible reasons for the hunters’ behavior, and the most likely answer was also the most disturbing: the infected had learned that the loud report of discharging firearms meant long-distance danger to them. That might have been understandable if the flesh-eaters had run away, like any prey animal in North America would have done, from squirrels to polar bears. Instead, the hunters continued to move forward toward their human targets while seeking the least vulnerable routes forward.

The end result of the new behavior was that few of the hunters took mortal wounds before reaching the combined barrier of the fence and snow-drift. For a few minutes, everyone thought that might be enough, as the creatures sunk to their hips in the white powder before being easily shot down. Jack, Blake, and David were all standing near the fence with their halberds, wreaking horrific destruction on the floundering monsters as dozen of bullets flew past to add to the carnage. The contrast of the blood and gore splattered across the glistening snow was both beautiful and horrific, though nobody had time to enjoy the view as the intensity of the assault grew with the steady arrival of more and more hunters who’d finally made it through the fields and brush near the river banks.

As the body count mounted, Jack couldn’t help but feel as if he was back in the early days of the outbreak, fighting the slow, stumbling infected before they’d had the chance to consume the massive amounts of protein their bodies needed to fully develop. Indeed, after five minutes of fighting, there were at least a hundred corpses lying sprawled on the opposite side of the fence, with more hunters joining their dead pack-mates every few seconds. But these weren’t scores of the flesh-eaters of May running toward Jack and his team, they were thousands of creatures grown powerful through the killing and eating of humans and other large animals. Plus, they were becoming smarter every day.

The first sign of trouble came when Jack finally heard Marcus and Todd shouting over the battle, calling for him and the others to get back onto the road. When he looked back to see what all the fuss was about, Jack saw that at least a dozen hunters had already flanked his position along the fence. They were charging from the southern edge of the small ramp leading to the bridge, and even as the waiting gunmen slaughtered the first wave, a larger pack could be seen forming for another attack less than fifty meters away.

Jack led Blake and David back up to the highway, where the waiting soldiers waved them onto the bridge itself. As most of them had learned about bridge-fighting over the past few months, the narrowed fronts between the railings were excellent defensive positions. Of course, that was assuming the other end of the span was available for a retreat if needed, and a retreat-route was definitely needed now. Hundreds of hunters were now scaling the fence unimpeded, joining the other flesh-eaters gathered on the highway as they charged the thin line of humans now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with cold steel in hand.

Jack stole a glance to the north, where he saw that the team on that side of the bridge was still shooting at monsters getting caught up in the snow and brush below the surface of the road. He could also see that the fighters were rapidly being flanked in the distance. Then there was nothing to do but focus on his own situation as the horde was upon them.

After spending the entire last day of the Battle for Vicksburg on top of a massive wall, his commanders insisting that he position himself where he could see and direct the fighting, Jack was subconsciously pleased to be swinging a weapon again. Everyone told him that he wielded the deadliest halberd in the world, even before the outbreak when he participated in SCA events, and this morning he felt no impulse to argue with those who made the claims. He was stabbing the spear-tip into foreheads and faces with every thrust, and using the hook to rip open skulls, necks, and cheekbones as he pulled the weapon back after each strike. When the opportunity presented itself, he would twist the halberd in his hands so the axe could be brought into play, each time chopping through hunter heads like they were overripe watermelons.

Jack had his Ranger-buddies and equally deadly brother in the small line with him, and they were calmly stacking up the creatures into mounds of gory corpses even though they were being steadily pushed back by the sheer weight of numbers pressing down on their position. From the nearby sounds of the fighting behind him, Jack realized that the northern team was also conducting a fighting retreat. They were all beginning to tire beneath the weight of their armor, and the exertion required to swing heavy, medieval weapons without regular breaks. Jack thought he was about to be forced to drop the halberd and pull his battle-axe as three hunters attacked him at the same time, but as if on cue, one of the trusty war-dogs slipped between his legs and began tearing at the flesh-eaters’ Achilles tendons. Within seconds, the trio of hunters were howling in pain and frustration as they fell to the snow-swept asphalt, where Jack left them lay as he took another big step backward.

Finally, Jack heard Carter shout from behind. “Chuck’s comin’ down! Says the last of the boats went by a couple of minutes ago.”

Jack killed yet another hunter by spearing it in the abdomen to push it away, then lopping the top of its skull off with a reverse stroke. “You and me cover everyone else?”