Zombie Dawn Exodus (16 page)

“How do we sort who does what?” asked Madison.

“You all have your own skills and talents, I expect
you to make an informed decision on what you’d be best at. We need
efficiency. Please volunteer for what role you would be best suited
to, any that have not decided by morning will automatically be
allocated. The next few days are going to be gruelling and today’s
been too long already. I suggest everyone has a good meal, prepares
anything necessary for the morning and gets as much rest as
possible,” said Jack.

“Alright, that’s it folks, we have a plan to get
everything in order, for after today you may not have any time for
anything other than for combat or evacuation! Meet in two hours for
dinner. I know these are hard times, but if we stick together and
work hard, we may just get through it,” said Wells.

The crowd disbursed in a hail of conversation,
asking more questions of each other than anyone could answer. Wells
and Jack knew it was an uncertain time for the town, surviving the
zombie horde was a problem they had days to solve, maintaining
their morale and discipline was the first hurdle.

Later that day, those who were not on guard duty
were again assembled, awaiting their evening meal. Wells, Jack and
Madison were sat at a table, discussing some of the ideas that they
had for the following days. Those around them were loudly
discussing the matter themselves, but to no end other than pass the
time, and because they couldn’t stay silent.

“Madison, I want you to be in charge of finding,
repairing and modifying vehicles, should we need them,” said
Jack.

“Why? You know I can fight, I can shoot better than
most of the men here!” Madison complained.

“Yes I’m well aware of that, but I need someone
capable to manage our evacuations plans. Because if evacuation
becomes necessary I want it to go smoothly, I know I can trust you
on that. Also, you have a good eye for what is needed, and anyone
can hit those targets anyway, it’s pretty hard to miss,” said
Jack.

“But, you need me out there!” insisted Madison.

“No, I’m relying on you back here, don’t worry,
you’ll have your turn to fight,” said Jack.

“You think the horde will reach the town?” asked
Wells.

“Almost certainly, we should be able to reduce their
number significantly, but the last fight will be at our doorstep.
We can only hope that we’re able to do enough damage to make that a
situation we can deal with,” said Jack.

“And what about me?” asked Wells.

“You have been our spiritual leader and manager, I
suggest you maintain that position, the people need what little
consistency they have left in their lives. As well as that, I’ll be
leading the fight, Madison the vehicles. You need to allocate
someone to handle the fortifications, I suggest Greg, he’s an
obnoxious bastard, but capable at building. You will then be left
here, in overall command of it all, the three groups with separate
tasks, as well as the guard duty,” said Jack

“Ok, and let us pray we do not get attacked from any
other direction,” said Wells.

“Indeed, that’s a gamble we’ll just have to take,”
said Jack.

“I’ll need two more trucks ready for tomorrow, Dale
and his brother have a couple that could work that have been laid
up for a few months since we brought a ban on vehicles. I’d
appreciate it if you negotiated their usage and get them gassed up
before we leave in the morning,” said Jack.

“No problem, I’ll get on it as soon as we finish up
here,” said Madison.

“Also, Molotov cocktails, they could really make a
difference,” said Jack.

“How do we get those?” asked Wells.

“We need as many glass bottles as we can find, and
enough gas to fill them, along with some motor oil. Stuff a rag
through the bottle top and they’re ready to go,” said Jack.

“That sounds a little barbaric,” Wells added.

“Yes it is, and it’s exactly the sort of advantage
we need in this fight. The horde is bunched up close and we’ll have
the advantage of fighting from safe positions, the perfect time for
a Molotov,” said Jack.

“Ok, I’ll have a few men gather the supplies at
first light and have them ready for you to oversee the finishing
before you leave,” said Wells.

“Do you really think you can save Babylon?” asked
Madison.

“If we work together and give it everything we’ve
got, maybe, but I can almost guarantee you that the last fight will
be at our very own walls. God hope we still have them by then,”
said Jack.

“We will, I’ll see to it,” said Wells.

The town’s folk finished up their meal and went to
their homes to get as much sleep as they could before the days
ahead. It was an uncomfortable night for most, few getting more
than a couple of hour’s kip all together.

CHAPTER
NINE

HONOLULU, HAWAII

The small group had been on the trail for over an
hour now and so far they had failed to find the runaways. The group
of six wore a mixture of civilian clothes and military issue
equipment and moved like a unit that had worked together many times
before. Each of them men moved slowly, doing their best to avoid
being spotted by their quarry.

The team had left the main perimeter of the research
centre half an hour before and were walking down the empty road in
the heart of one of the many abandoned districts on the island.
Fuel for the power stations had run dry long ago, and with the only
source of major power coming from the single remaining oil fired
power station on the islands, the luxury of lighting was kept to
the most populous and critical parts of the islands.

Decker, the group’s leader, was an ex-army soldier
who had transferred to the company three years ago. Since the
outbreak he had been moved to the primary laboratory on the island
of Oahu. This site was where the most critical work was being done
to find ways to contain and possibly eliminate the plague that had
spread worldwide.

“Sir, I think we’ve found one of them!” called
Terry, the newest member of the group.

The rest of the men halted, looking to their leader
for the order. Decker nodded to Terry as he moved forwards,
checking on his finding. Ahead of them was a single storey home, it
had been long abandoned and most of its windows were damaged. The
door was shut though and a light trail of blood led inside. With
the lighting out in this area it was difficult to get a good look
inside the building. Decker pulled his night vision eyepiece over
his left eye, activating its thermal mode. The building and
surrounding area were cold but there was definitely heat
inside.

“Got you,” he whispered to himself before signalling
to the group who instantly spread out, moving into positions to
provide cover for the entry team.

Decker approached the door whilst Tony, a short man
carrying a Mossberg M500 shotgun, moved to the other side. Tony has
previously been a police officer but since the outbreak had found
his time split between civilian work and assisting the security
patrols on the island. He lifted the weapon up, ready for whatever
waited for them on the inside.

Decker looked back, making sure the rest of the team
was ready. He’d already swung his rifle behind him to his back,
finding the weapon cumbersome and awkward to use in the confined
spaces of a building. He lowered his hand and pulled out his
stainless steel AMT Hardballer .45 automatic pistol. With one hand
on the door, and the other wrapped around the hilt of his gun, he
put his hand on the handle and pulled it down gently. At the same
time he put pressure on the door to try and push it open.
Unsurprisingly it refused to move, that could mean only one thing,
the people inside had locked the door.

Without pausing he lifted his leg and slammed his
boot in hard. The door splintered near the hinges but still refused
to open. He turned to Tony who emptied two shells into the
approximate positions of the hinges. With one more kick the door
spun open before collapsing on its last remaining, but now shredded
hinge.

As the door hit the ground Tony and Decker rushed
inside. Tony was in first and moved off to the left, shotgun at the
ready. Decker moved to the right, his pistol kept close to his body
in case anybody was waiting for him. Terry entered the doorway,
holding his Bernelli Super 90 up to his shoulder. The door to the
right of Decker burst open and two men rushed towards him. Even
though he was surprised by the sudden arrival of the two men he was
able to put three rounds into the first, the bullets slowed the man
but didn’t stop him. Before he could shoot anymore the second man
smashed into his stomach, knocking the two of them to the floor.
Tony now had a clear view of the first man and fired two shots from
his Mossberg in quick succession. The first hit the man in the
centre of the torso, the second in the arm, taking it off
completely from below the elbow. The power of the weapon threw the
man hard against the wall before he slumped down to the ground.
Tony and Terry ran over to Decker who was trying to hold off the
other man.

Tony arrived first and delivered a swift kick to the
man, catching him in the forehead and flying backwards to the
floor. Terry followed up with more kicks, forcing the man onto his
back. Decker got up, wiping the blood from his split lip. His
injuries seemed minor, though he was far from impressed at being
knocked down so easily.

“Tie him up,” he ordered as he pointed at the man
who’d nearly killed him, “is it me or are they getting
stronger?”

The other two men laughed grimly as the tension from
the encounter started to evaporate. This was quickly interrupted by
an agitated looking Decker.

“Hold on!” he said as he looked around confused. He
looked down to where the man should be. All that remained of the
terribly injured man was a thick puddle of dark blood and his
severed forearm.

“Where the fuck is the other one?” he shouted.

Terry looked down at the blood and Tony ran to the
window, looking for any sign of the man.

“Fuck me!” said Terry, as he finished putting the
restraints on his prisoner.

A series of gun shots came from outside followed by
the extremely loud and unmistakable sound of a .44 magnum being
fired.

“Come on!” ordered Decker as he ran for the door,
his pistol at the ready.

As he left the house he found the missing man lying
face down on the ground with a dozen bullet holes in his back and
several more in the back of his head. About ten feet away stood a
grinning Jason. In his hands he held a military issue M4 carbine,
the shortened variant of the venerable M16 rifle. Stood next to him
was the gung-ho hunter Joe, holding his revolver in front of him as
though he was Dirty Harry himself.

“I thought you needed a hand,” he said
sarcastically.

Decker moved over to the body and rolled it over.
The man was wearing the research laboratories own uniform.

“Huh?” said Jason as he spotted the logos.

The body was riddled with wounds, but what really
caught Decker’s attention was that it had a leg wound that he
hadn’t noticed until now. The wound was old, at least half a day
and still this man was able to walk, even run. He stood up,
sighing.

“Okay, job done. Bag him, it’s time to head
back.”

Tony and Terry stepped out, dragging their prisoner
with them.

“Is it me or have we just captured another
experiment?” asked Tony.

Decker nodded in agreement as he pulled out a
walkie-talkie from his jacket.

“This is Decker, we’ve captured the runaways. Send
in the trucks,” he said.

A short distance away a pair of yellow headlights
lit up indicating the position of their transport back. With a
growl the civilian Hummer trundled towards them with another two
men stood on the back. As they got closer they switched on a large
searchlight that bathed the scene in artificial daylight. Decker
waved them off as the light almost blinded him. The trucks pulled
up past them and skidded to a stop.

“Fucking amateurs!” muttered Tony.

Decker moved up to the truck as the driver opened
the door and climbed out.

“Put the body in the back and keep an eye on the
prisoner,” he said whilst pointing to the man still being held by
his men.

The man nodded and moved to the prisoner. Decker
turned back to his team whilst the others continued moving the two
men.

“I think it’s time we had a chat with Dr Murphy,” he
suggested.

The five men of his team nodded in agreement.

* * *

JOINT BASE PEARL HARBOR-HICKAM, HAWAII

Jackson and his two accomplices huddled down low to
the ground to avoid being spotted. They’d left their truck several
blocks away to avoid attention from the base security. Each of the
men wore dark clothing to fit in with the night and pulled hooded
tops over their heads. Jackson reported directly to Mr Ford, a
small-time crook who had struck the jackpot in this nightmare
situation.

When most people on the island had been running
away, he’d built up a small and successful cadre of men who had
helped him carve up a part of the city for himself. He was now a
powerful man and responsible for most of the organised crime on the
island since the creation of the zombie-free sanctuary. In fact the
idea of the sanctuary had been a sly ruse on his part to create a
population dependent on him and what he could do.

Jackson whispered to the other two.

“Ford said we need to take out the guards and the
alarm system. Once they’re down we send up the flare and the rest
will arrive. Before we can do that though, we need to get the power
down or this plan is dead in the water. Got it?” he said
firmly.

The other two men nodded eagerly, though whether it
was their keenness to get it over with or that they were looking
forward to the operation was difficult to tell. Greg, the younger
of the two men was a shifty looking, dark haired man in his mid
twenties. Jonathan, the third man in the group looked much surer of
himself. He carried a substantial backpack with him, as well as a
scoped rifle on his shoulder. Jackson pulled out his pair of night
vision binoculars and scanned the base for signs of the patrols. He
picked up the sign for the Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam whilst
panning past the buildings. The base was a recent co-operative
effort by the US Air Force and Navy. Until recently it had been
packed with thousands of personnel.