World of Ashes (12 page)

             
They climbed to a small hill off the side of the road, and none too soon as every pickup in the convoy came roaring around the corner, guns blazing wildly into the pack of burning monsters. The zombies that were already on fire had gathered in a corner they couldn’t navigate and burned down a section of fence just large enough that the trucks weren’t damaged as they plowed through. After they were inside the perimeter, the five ton and the patrol car followed, picking up Allen and then Ethan just as a couple of recently infected zombies came after them from the wood line. A gun truck moved in between Allen and the pursuing zombies, cutting them down with an M249 SAW. What was worse than oily smoke?, Ethan thought. Oily smoke mixed with necrotic flesh boiling away, a smell nobody truly knows until they’ve been downwind of the toxic burn-pits of the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars. Most of the United States was covered in this horrid stench Ethan was certain he’d escaped years before. Everything was a flashback now, except it was happening right in front of him, not a memory in hues of blue and black.

             
The people on the roof of the buildings, about thirty in all, jumped down and started running toward their rescuers. “They’re coming up from the river!” A woman tried to explain frantically. Apparently a small refugee camp farther up river that had become overrun. The undead had floated or walked down the river until they spotted the people on the hill gathering water. An army of soggy zombies followed the holdouts to their as-yet incomplete fortress. Someone asked why they hadn’t just come to town, knowing Sullivan was still there. Apparently they were avoiding civilization, fearing the military would open fire on them. Similar to the L.A. Riots in 2014, a confrontation the Leftist front-group #Occupy organized and instigated, they didn’t want to be killed simply for showing up. From the lack of armaments these people carried, they were probably from Illinois, Ethan mused. The Chicago mentality persisted though the state had repealed their ban of firearms and concealed carry years earlier.

             
“How many we looking at?” Keith asked. It was more or less rhetorical, the exact number meant nothing. You fired until you ran out of targets or ammo.

             
“Enough that we’re gonna be here a while.” Ethan pulled out a couple of energy shots he’d been hording and handed one to Keith. “I guess we can sleep when we’re dead.” It went without saying, but Ethan did anyway. “I get bit, you end me, got it? Don’t trust me to pull the trigger on myself, and I won’t trust you to do the same.”

             
“I guess if we were Marines I’d say ‘Semper Fi.’” Keith tried to take a deep breath, a real chore in the smoke.

             
“
Libertatem aut Mortem
.” Ethan smiled and motioned for some of the older veterans to gather. “The five ton and the patrol car will take the refugees back to town and report on what we’ve found. I intend to hold this hill. It could prove a strategic strongpoint in the future and I’m not willing to give that up.” Most people agreed, others had no opinion so long as they got to keep shooting people and not go to jail for it. Just one of the perks of being a survivor. “We’re gonna stay here as long as those fuckers keep coming up the hill.” A machine gun chattered from one of the trucks. “Gird your loins, fella’s. It’s gonna be a long night.”

             
Turning to Rowe, Ethan suggested she take the survivors and leave. She was a cop, not a soldier, and her pants fit as if a donut shop were next door to the station. Rowe had no place on a battlefield and she knew it. The people on the hill were all too happy to go with her, knowing they’d been rescued by the good guys.

Ethan smiled, he couldn’t help but say what he did next, “
Hold your fire ’till you see whatever’s left of their eyes
!” It crossed his mind he might have sounded a little too enthusiastic, like a pirate or some lunatic reenacting Bunker Hill. It seemed to have a rallying effect on the men though, and some shouted OOO-RAH and HOOAH as a reply.

             
Raising his hand for all to see, Ethan threw it down, signaling for the clearing of the hillside to begin. Clean kills, every one of them, the men taking their time as instructed. This part really was just like the movies, if they filmed from the point of view of the man in the pillbox and not the one charging at it. The fight almost resembled wars of the distant past; stand in lines, shoot the enemy, hope you don’t get hit back. Luckily this enemy’s only weapon was their own rapidly decaying bodies, a rifle could keep them at bay, or at least at arm’s length. Whether or not being partially eaten before succumbing to a virus that could not be cured was worse than having your bones shattered by a soft-lead musket ball, history would have to be the judge.

“One shot one kill!” Could be heard from deputies all along the line, especially at the gate
where there was nothing but men with shields and long riot sticks and pistols stopping the zombies. The moans of the undead thirsting for flesh cast an eerie background noise to the battle. Someone had the presence of mind to climb on the roof of the buildings and look down the hill along the path the residents had built to gather water from the river. There were at least two hundred dead climbing the hill toward them and more floating down the river like so many turds in a toilet.

             
“Are you sure we have enough ammunition for this?” Keith asked.             

             
“We should have plenty if we keep up this pace.” Ethan took a deep breath, “Really wish we had a helicopter in town, airlift would be nice for supplying ammo and water. The faucets aren’t working here anymore. I think the park service shut the mains down. These amateurs don’t seem to know how to turn it back on.”

             
“Still.” Keith breathed a sigh of relief as the riflemen got comfortable, sure they could stop most zombies before the lurching, uncoordinated sacks of runny, waterlogged snot were halfway up the hill. Ethan took a few shots, his ACOG making it too eazy. He wondered briefly how much more sporting it might have been to use his cap & ball pistols against the zombies. It wasn’t like the ghouls were raging anymore, making themselves perfect targets.

             
Six hours later the men were still at it. Any zombies coming up the roads had been eliminated, but the infected were still wading through immobile carcasses the other undead to come up the path. A siren at the gate heralded the arrival of two fire trucks and the five-ton filled with ammunition, food and most importantly, water. The water was especially welcomed. Someone had also had the presence of mind to bring a generator and a couple of construction lights in case the battle went on through the night, along with a separate generator on top of the high school for a repeater tower.

             
“Are we going to start down the hill?” Kenly, who’d come along with Reynolds, asked. The Mayor was armed, his choice of a Colt. .44 Magnum Python an interesting choice. The gun could stop a car, let alone a zombie.

             
Ethan looked at Kenly as if he’d grown a dick out of his forehead, “Are you high?”

             
Kenly smirked, “Only on days that end in Y.”

             
“No, we’re not going
down
the damned hill!” Ethan seemed enraged at the very suggestion. “What if we didn’t kill all of them? There could be dozens of undead fuckers who aren’t completely dead. I’m not risking anyone’s life for that. Besides, we’re occupying this hill for the foreseeable future. There will be plenty of time to search and destroy. It’s not Vietnam, man. The Viet Kong didn’t eat their enemies and turn them into one of their own.”

             
Allen came running up to them. “Keith, Ethan, we’re not seeing any more come out of the river. I think this may be it.”

             
Ethan nodded. “Hold positions. And get me that woman who was here first.” Allen ran off and a minute later brought the woman to them. She was about five foot six, her clothes were tattered and smelled horrible, her once brown hair black with oil. Her eyes were calm, though. She was used to the death and violence by now.

             
Kenly offered his hand to her. She took it and they shook. “Your people built this? It’s impressive.”

             
She nodded, obviously exhausted. “Yeah, we heard about the Army abandoning refugee camps all along the Mississippi, so we drove the back roads until we found this place. A few of us had been here before, so we drove up the hill thinking we could camp for a few nights. Those nights kinda turned into a few months.” She just shrugged after that. It was obvious none of them were soldiers, a couple were history buffs and a few more were carpenters, so that was the idea for the medieval style moat and fence. Their tactics were little more than what had been seen in movies. Someone even had a gladius sword, though it had been a cheap replica and half the blade was still sticking out of a zombie’s head, the tang broken completely off.

             
“We’re from the town at the top of this valley.” Kenly said. “Your people are being taken care of, we really appreciate it that you stayed to help us hold the fort.” Again the woman shrugged as if it had been the natural thing for her to do.

             
The fire trucks started spraying down the fires, and before nightfall the hill top was under control. Keith and Ethan didn’t even bother driving home, instead they crashed in the hotel for an all-too-brief couple of hours before a knock came at the door. Keith answered it groggily.

             
“Is Ethan up?” Allen asked. He had a clean set of BDU’s with white sneakers on, so he’d been back to town for sure.

             
“No, I think he’s down for the count. What’s up?”

             
“We might have a problem.”

             
Keith rolled his eyes and scratched the red stubble that was covering his face. “I got ninety nine problems, kid, and you’re all of them.”

             
Allen got the joke, glad someone else could speak internet meme* besides him. “There’s a Humvee with a Texas flag on it at the top of the hill opposite the Eastbound-44 checkpoint. They’re holding position and won’t answer the radio or our signal flags.”

             
Keith groaned. “How long ago was this?”

             
“Right now.”

             
Keith walked over and poked Ethan with a shoe. “Hey, get up. There’s another crisis your yokels can’t handle on their own. It’s Babysitting time again.”

             
Ethan wasn’t a morning person and flipped them both off as he climbed out of bed and put the clothes from the day before back on. They still hadn’t found the water mane to turn it back on, and so they hadn’t been able to wash during the night. Brushing his teeth would have been nice, Ethan thought. Washing the oil off would have been even better.

             
Outside in the bright morning light the area already looked cleaner. Children were policing up spent brass so it could be reloaded back in town and resold. Apparently Allen had gotten his hands on one of the cars from the dealership across the highway and was driving a brand new Dodge Challenger. They piled in, Allen refusing to sit in either passenger seat, forcing Keith into the rear grocery seat no grown man could really get comfortable in. Allen wasn’t a very good driver, and the car was a manual, which made everyone sick by the time they reached the top of the hill, lurching and grinding gears all the way. They met up with Kenly and the rest of the lieutenants at the North overpass. Someone handed Ethan a set of binoculars while Keith went about trying to raise the truck on the radio.

             
“What do you suppose they’re doing?”

             
“Staying out of small arms range.” Ethan said. “Assume there are more of them out there in the woods and near other checkpoints. They want us to know they’re out there. It’s an intimidation tactic.”

             
“I’ll bet they’re also getting firing solutions on our checkpoints.” A man with a Vietnam Vet’s hat said. “If we piss ‘em off they could call in artillery and mortars.”

             
“Are these the people you guys saw at the power plant?” Kenly asked.

             
“Yeah, same people alright. I really hope they didn’t follow us here.”

             
“It’s not like we’re hard to find.”

             
“Unfortunately.” Ethan turned to Keith, “Anything?”

             
“I’m getting bits and pieces, but our radios aren’t synchronized. I doubt they could talk to us if they wanted to. Hell, we’re using MBITTRS routed through a fucking CINGAR system. They might have brand new satellite radios. For all I know we’re listening to National Public Radio.” Keith tossed the mike down.

             
Kenly looked over at another deputy, “Write our frequency on a board and hold it up. Let’s see if they answer.” Keith told the deputy the numbers while he used old gas station price numbers to make the sign. As soon as it was ready they held it up. A few seconds later Keith nodded that there was someone on the other line, but that they weren’t talking, only listening.