Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation (19 page)

Arranging
to use the birds in the assault proved a little tricky. Due to our distance
from Yellowstone, we had to load extra fuel onto a truck and carry it to an
open field where the helicopters could refuel. We were within their normal
operating range, but I didn’t want to take a chance, especially when I was
depending on their firepower. Also, the Cobra was still down. The little engine
thing turned out to be a major engine thing. I’m no mechanic and won’t pretend
to understand the details. At any rate, Briana was contacted, and she found a
spare part in our inventory. Months before we had looted the Air Force base rather
thoroughly, taking as much as we could even if we had no clue what a particular
item was for. Everything had been sorted by model number, entered onto an Excel
spreadsheet, and placed into storage.

“What’s
the plan?” asked Lizzy.

“Rest up
as much as we can now. We are leaving at midnight.”

“That’ll
be a long walk,” said Mary.

“Not too
bad, and we will arrive well before dawn,” I explained. “We use our nifty night
vision goggles and get in position. We then slam them hard before they know
what’s happening.”

“I like
that part,” agreed Lizzy.

“Me
too,” began Mary. “Oh, God.”

Tim was
heading our way, his eyes on my daughter. When was the boy going to learn? I
liked the lad. I really did. He was nice and pleasant, had good manners. His
father was one of our better citizens. Still, Mary had no interest in a
relationship. Tim’s constant efforts were doing nothing to change this fact,
and after two years you’d think he would have come to the same conclusion.

“Go talk
to him,” I suggested. “Everyone knows what’s coming, and they’re all worried.
He’s no different.”

Mary
frowned but gave a resigned sigh as she rose to her feet.

“Be nice
and do not head over to Michael when you finish,” I warned. “Come right back
here.”

There
was some mumbling, likely directed at me, before she moved away.

“She
didn’t care for that last part,” observed Lizzy. “Think she’ll listen?”

I turned
to Tara. “Find Harvey and tell him to get Michael and two others to do a quick
circuit of the area.”

Lizzy
let out a harsh laugh.

“Like
you don’t interfere in the lives of others.”

“Without
hesitation. It’s a good call though. I caught Tim sending dirty looks at
Michael a couple of times.”

“Any
fights?”

She
opened her canteen and took a swig of water. “I don’t think he’s even noticed.
I’m sure Mary has told him about Tim’s crush, but he hasn’t bothered
confronting or speaking to the boy as far as I know.”

“That
shows confidence,” I observed.

Lizzy
snorted. “Why wouldn’t he be confident? Aside from being damn good looking
himself, Michael’s got Mary talking to him all the time, and she’s turning into
a beautiful, capable woman. I’m putting that down to my and maybe Briana’s
influence. You’re a fucking terrible role model.”

I picked
up a small stick and lobbed it at her, missing by a few inches. “I’m a good
father, and you know it.”

“Well,
yeah, you are better than most, even if you do let her go to war.”

“Mary’s
almost seventeen.”

Another
snort. “You had her fighting at fourteen. I can see her coming now, as fucked
up as everything on this shitty planet is, along with the fact half the others
in the militia are about her age, but during that first round with the raiders
back in Wyoming…” She trailed off.

“Okay,”
I concurred, “it might not have been the best move on my part.” That was an
understatement. I had made a mistake there, nearly getting the girl killed, and
myself, and the twins. “It turned out good in the end, and I now know what not
to do with Asher and mini-Briana when they grow up.”

She
leaned forward. “Think it’ll be a girl?”

“I… I’m
going to not guess. My track record on that is pretty much a total failure.
Scrap the entire mini-Briana thing. We’ll just say baby from now on.”

“You’re
a guy, what do you expect, that you might actually be right on occasion?”

*
* *

We hid
the trucks and dirt bikes in a gully, in lieu of posting a guard, and began to
march toward the spot where we thought the raiders were camping. Now, when I
say we were in the wilderness, I do mean wilderness. This was some of the
toughest terrain in eastern Idaho. Zombies were essentially a non-issue. None
had been seen for days, and that was unlikely to change. The pests definitely
lacked the coordination to make their way over such steep, rocky ground.

Tara and
Dale were in the lead with the rest of us following a good hundred feet behind.
We also had two planes in the air, both flying without lights, their engines
modified to be silent. Well, they had been altered to be as quiet as we could
manage. A third, with lights flashing and a motor we purposely made as noisy as
possible, was passing by far in the distance. The raiders were certain to
notice it, and hopefully that would detract from the possibility they would search
the skies for others.

Kimberly
and Xavier were on standby with our actual attack craft. I trusted both of
them, and since I was limited to one modified plane and a single Pave Hawk,
they were my first choice. You see, a horde of the shambling dead was
approaching Yellowstone from the south. With the Cobra down, Captain Briggs
wanted to keep the other two Pave Hawks handy. This isn’t to say I couldn’t
call on them – they were physically quite close and ready to go – but they were
to be held in reserve. That way, if it turned out I had no need, they could
swing back to Yellowstone fully armed and deal with the threat there, should
the zombies not be turned aside by the barricades or any distractions Briggs
arranged.

Everyone
was equipped with night vision goggles – you just have to love those – and we
were moving in two groups with Mary and I sticking close to Lizzy’s team. Being
clumped like that wasn’t the safest thing, not when the raiders were known to
possess machine guns, but getting separated would be so troublesome. Also, this
formation permitted us to move without using radios of any sort or even having
to call out to each other.

The
twins often paused to look around or consider our route. The instant they
stopped, the squads did the same. Only Mary was allowed to approach them, and
that was solely to provide any updates from the air. Since the raiders had
settled down for the night, and were hopefully asleep, she had not needed to do
so.

Mary did
make some comments to me, all the while ensuring her earpiece remained in place
so she could hear what the pilots were saying. I had one as well, but she
enjoyed the work so much that I allowed her to relay the information a second
time, complete with her editorials and opinions. My daughter’s biggest gripe –
and griping did outnumber any statements of relevance – was the weight of our
gear. Like everyone else, she was in military issue body armor and helmet.
Unlike the rest of us, she had an Uzi and a pair of 9mm pistols. The others all
carried a M-16 with quite a few having the attached grenade launcher. Most were
also equipped with a sniper rifle and several pistols. Yes, I know I’ve gone
over this before. The point is that Mary carried a lot less hardware than the
others.

The
difference in strength, particularly upper body strength, between men and women
had always complicated things. When we first established our little military
force, I was inclined to insist women perform the same as men. Only, that isn’t
possible, nor is it even remotely fair. The average woman simply can’t lift the
amount the average man can. This is not a sexist statement, but a factual one.
It is what it is. Still, this can be compensated for. First of all, we use
Jeeps and trucks and other vehicles to move around. Having to march with a
hundred pound backpack simply isn’t a concern, not the way we operate. Second,
when we do have to hike, like now, the biggest guys carry extra. Is that fair?
No, it is not, but it’s a group effort and each contributes based on his or her
abilities.

Going in
with only twenty four people was also a tad worrisome. There was no shortage of
complaints about Captain Briggs refusing to join us, especially considering
that Yellowstone was more at risk than the Black Hills. I put an end to that as
quickly as I could. You see, the good captain was bound by specific rules of
engagement, most of them not implemented by the military but by the civilian
government, both islands and Yellowstone. The vast majority of sensible officials,
the few who existed, had died during those early months, and their replacements
had largely come from the private sector. A handful seemed to understand the
need to be ruthless at times, but they are the minority. Too many of the fools
think the best way forward is to be nice and compassionate, to bring everyone
together so we can oppose the zombies united. I’m not sure how that will work
regarding the nuclear war over in Asia and Europe. Being nice is clearly not on
their minds. Personally, such opinions mean nothing to me. I was going to kill
the prophet. No surrender would be accepted. Captain Briggs knew full well what
I intended, and by removing himself from the equation, there was nothing
standing in my way.

*
* *

Tara
came trotting back. “Found them.”

“Are
they asleep?” whispered Lizzy.

She
nodded.

“What
sort of layout?” I asked. “Can we surround them?”

“Their
backs are to a ravine, and there’s a small cliff to the north.”

“Are any
awake?” added Mary.

“Three
guards.” Tara’s tone dismissed them as no concern.

“Okay,”
I said. “You take Lizzy’s team and get them in position. Have your brother come
back for Harvey’s. I’ll go with his. Once everyone is in place, the two of you
kill the sentries. You can do that, right?”

Tara
nodded.

“Perfect.
You shooting them will be the signal for us to open fire on the camp itself.
Full strike with each squad’s machine gun and plenty of grenades at any
groupings.”

“Mary,
call Xavier and Kimberly. Tell them our position and plan. I want them to
appear a minute after we get started. Have the other helicopters get in the air
and head this way in case we need them. Tara, make sure you wait until Mary
tells you that Xavier and Kimberly are ready before shooting, and that the big
guns are set up.”

A second
nod.

“Mary,
it’s dark for hours yet, so be extra careful about telling them where we are. I
don’t want Xavier shooting us by mistake, more so for Kimberly.”

She
paled at the thought.

*
* *

It began
twelve minutes later. Once I was confident we were as well positioned as we
could hope for, I signaled to Tara and Dale. They quickly dropped the sentries,
who were clearly not paying all that much attention to their surroundings, and
everyone else opened up. The raiders were spread out among the embers of
several campfires. Some were wrapped in blankets, others in sleeping bags.
There were only four tents visible, and those were blown apart by grenades.
With most of the enemy trying to figure out what was happening or struggling to
find weapons with which to fight back, it proved quite one sided. I’m good with
that. Fair fights are to be avoided. We then lit a series of flares.

I was
torn on whether or not to do this. Part of me wanted to be absolutely,
completely, utterly positive that we would not get bombed by our own people.
Another, teeny, tiny part considered that it might be better to not give away
our position. Fear of death from above won out, and with our location clearly
illuminated, Xavier roared overhead and began firing down into the trees. He
couldn’t see his targets, but we’d boxed them in. The cliff and narrow ravine
that formed a semicircle around the raider camp, plus our flares, marked a
relatively small kill zone. The minigun rattled away as shell casings fell.

The
instant he was out of ammunition, Xavier pulled up and to the side. Kimberly
came next. She was in one of our special Cessnas, the sort equipped with our
homemade bomb rack. She had a pair of napalm canisters dangling beneath the
plane and dropped one smack dab into the middle of the camp. It exploded,
sending streams of flaming gel in all directions. This stuff is incredibly
nasty, next to impossible to put out, and burns far hotter than most normal
fires. It was a dreadful way to die, though far better they suffer the agony
than any of my people get shot.

“Dad!”

I was
peering through my scope looking for someone to kill. “What is it?”

“Xavier
said a few are trying to get across the ravine. They’re using ropes.”

That was
completely unacceptable.

“Have
him shoot them.”

“He’s
out of bullets!”

It was
loud, and Mary had to scream to make herself heard.