The Sergeant kept the Humvee at right around 25 and the damn Z’s bit the bait big time, the first quad ran on either side of the Humvee their wrist claws cutting deep gouges in the doors and fenders. He sped a little as he approached the 2
nd
quad that had broken off their house to house search and were heading straight towards the stocky marine. He reached inside his blouse and grabbing the chain he wore there he held a crucifix to his lips and stomped on the accelerator.
OMT had already inserted the blasting cap plug so all he had to do was flip the safety off and squeeze the trigger by the time the Humvee glanced off the chain link fence and slid around the corner into the alley; the Humvee kept its speed until the last moment when the Sergeant slammed on the brakes and the Humvee slid sideways to block the far end of the alley. The Sergeant grabbed his M4 and tumbled out of the driver’s side door to take position sighting over the hood. The Zs followed the Humvee into the alley, their claws clattering on the asphalt and the metal fence ringing as one bounced off of it. The last burst of speed had put them a few seconds behind, when the first two Zs were nearly to the mine when the deafening blast obscured everything as one and a half pounds of C4 and the hundreds of shotgun pellets tore 5 of the Zs to pieces. As the dust settled it was Janey who first opened fire from the roof her fire was joined by .308 from the Sergeant. Several rounds made contact on the advancing Zs but they did not stop, one vaulted the hood and slammed into the Sergeant, they both disappeared behind the Humvee. Impossibly the two remaining Zs began to scale the sheer brick towards Janey. OMT took several steps towards the fence and opened up with the Thompson. The heavy .45 rounds tore into one of the Z’s and it tumbled off the wall nearly decapitated. The other Z on the wall reached the top but just as it started to leap at the quickly retreating Janey, the Thompson took off its right leg at the knee. The creature let out an unbelievable screech and it tumbled onto the roof out of sight.
The Z reappeared from behind the Humvee and it sprinted towards OMT, it clambered over the chain link fence without missing a step, OMT missed with three rounds before it hopped up onto a nearby crate next to OMT, the creature’s wrist spike snapped into place and with a slashing motion it tore the Thompson from OMT’s grasp. OMT rolled with the motion and out of the immediate range of the monstrous weapon. As OMT rolled onto his butt he was able to pull one of his revolvers, the first round missed but the second one devastated the creature’s right shoulder. It snarled in rage at the old man as it attempted to close once more, it straddled OMT and he clinched himself tight against the monster with his right arm, pinning the creatures left, OMT’s left hand pressed upwards on the bottom of the creature’s jaw stretching its neck upwards.
They slid along the asphalt, OMT trying to keep away from the rear claw and the snapping jaws, the creature trying to separate from the far heavier but much less powerful old man so it could deal a killing blow. OMT screamed as he felt his left shoulder begin to give, an old injury failing him once more and the creatures frog-like mouth and strange eyes that glowed yellow, tilted closer and closer to him. Suddenly there was a rifle report and the creature leaned heavily onto the old man who rolled its corpse off to one side. He looked up and saw Janey on the roof across the alley, they stared at each other for a moment then she lowered her rifle and he waved in appreciation to her. The young woman had just saved his life with perfect shot to the back of the creatures head from at least 50 yards.
OMT painfully got to his feet and recovered his weapons; he made his way to the gate in the chain link and walked over to the Humvee. The Sergeant’s body lay just beyond, he was nearly disemboweled and his intestines lay strung across the street; his cold dead eyes staring upwards into the sky. He recovered a blanket and wrapped the Sergeant in it before heading to check on Janey. As if on cue, Janey limped out of the warehouse, she was dragging her right leg and had a pained expression on her face, OMT rushed to her and carried Janey to the passenger seat of the Humvee; he started to look at her wounds. Her jeans were soaked in blood, when he started to remove her boots she asked
“What are you doing?”
Her voice shaky and worried.
“I need to get these jeans off of you, you need a tourniquet at least” he answered.
“I’ll be fine” she protested.
She weakly tried to push him away; he ignored her and got her belt undone started to pull them away then decided that was stupid and used a bowie knife to cut her jeans away. She was wearing pretty black panties but if he noticed he didn’t let on. She had a gash on the inside of her thigh going from very near the groin to nearly her knee, he looked up at her and she was looking deathly pale. He took her belt and wrapped it around her thigh as high as he could get it and tied it off. She moaned in response and then muttered
“I don’t feel too well.”
His hands kept working on her, he had grabbed a military issue field surgery med kit from the back seat and was tearing it open when he said quietly
“I know honey, I know.”
There was a syringe of morphine in the kit, he bit the plastic cover and pulled the needle clear, and he raised it up and taped it gently then pressed the air from it. He then began to inject her near the top of the deep slash in her flesh. She moaned and he looked up at her and said
“Janey, I’m sorry, this is going to hurt but it has to be done.”
She nodded and lay flat on the seat. She had faith in OMT but he had very little in himself, he really was only vaguely aware of what he should do, find the bleeding bit and sew it up; then sew up the rest of the thigh. That was about the limit of his medical plan and he had never done it before. His hands were trembling and he felt nauseous. He took a small paper envelope from the kit and tore it open with his teeth, there was a threaded suture inside it and he grasped it firmly and he leaned back to look at the long slash in her leg, she was bleeding most profusely high on the inside of her thigh. He muttered a quick prayer then loosened the belt, the flesh reopened and he could see the blood spray caused by each beat of her heart.
“Dear God, get the hell out of the way” a man’s voice sounded out behind him. OMT turned to see a small group of people standing right behind him; he guessed they were the ones from the roof of the post office. The elderly man who had spoken to him was small and thin, balding and wore small wire frame glasses, but he took the suture from OMT’s trembling hand with confidence.
“If you have more of these, get them and hand me that hemostat!” he ordered.
OMT first handed him the clamp then gathered the small suture packets.
“Wilson, come help hold the young lady will you?” he said.
A heavy set man in his mid-thirties handed his hunting rifle to a woman who was standing next to him before circling around to the driver’s side of the Humvee and climbing in he rested Janey’s head in his lap, then he held her shoulders. Janey began to scream as the old man first inserted the arterial clamp and then began to suture the bleeder. Janey passed out a moment later probably more from blood loss and shock than pain, her body going limp in the Wilson’s grasp.
“She’s lucky, if the cut had been transverse it would have severed this artery.” the older man quietly explained. “SUTURE!” he commanded.
OMT handed him another one of the pre-threaded, curved needles.
“Do you have any plasma? Ringers? Anything?” the old man asked.
“No sir” OMT answered.
“What is her blood type?” the old guy demanded with more than a hint of irritation.
“No idea.” OMT said. “What are you?” he asked.
“A-positive” OMT answered quietly.
The old man shook his head and tried to wake Janey, to ask her, but only got a breathy moan in response.
“Damn it!” the old guy muttered, “Carol, go back to the post office and fetch my bag and bring Mrs. Hall with you, she is O-negative.”
The woman holding the hunting rifle ran off towards the post office, Wilson held on, the old man stitched and Tucker stood nearby trying not to throw up.
Day 19, Continued, Frank’s Family Lodge
I had eaten a quiet lunch by myself on the roof, my turn for sentry duty; I smirked when I remembered the first night when OMT had asked me and Billy to guard the armory. Less than a month had gone by and the Johnny who walked back and forth in front of his gun collection was long gone. I had killed and seen more death than I ever wanted to see. I had stared into the bloody remains of a monster, fought them face to face and executed them. I tried to remember what it was like, before this all happened, tried to remember the way I thought, the way I looked at things; I felt sadness wash over me when I realized that those memories were gone. I still remembered events and people and places and games that Billy and I used to play but how I thought, how I reacted, and those things were drifting away like wisps of smoke and were just as solid.
I stared down the from the circle drive down to the tree line, all was quiet, even the wind had ceased. It was so quiet I heard the squeak of the back porch screen door and its gentle slam as someone stepped out back. I lifted the binoculars and peered as far into the distance as I could. I remembered in science class how Ms. Darby had said that when we looked at the stars we were looking back in time, that the light had taken so long to get to us that some of the stars and the planets circling around them didn’t even exist anymore; I wondered if the same thing was true from here to the farthest I could see with the binoculars, maybe there at some faraway place, I could see the world
before
.
A few moments later I heard the back door slam again and I walked to the back of the roof top patio to look into the back yard. I could just make out Mrs. Livingston, she was just entering the woods and in pursuit I saw Darnell Livingston. I squeezed my eyes shut because I felt dizzy and nauseous, our sins would soon be brought to light and Mrs. Livingston’s heart would be broken. I watched with the binoculars for a moment; I could see her has she ran one hand over the silver car and she brought the other in a fist to her mouth. I couldn’t watch anymore and turned my back to the scene.
I waited and imagined what was happening; she would be standing there trying to convince herself that the car did not belong to her daughter’s boyfriend. Darnell would walk up and ask her what she was doing in the woods and then he too would recognize the car, perhaps even the other cars that OMT had hidden back there. Then they would find the bodies, they were only covered with branches and leaves, OMT had wanted to burn them but things had kept him away from that task. The smell, they would certainly detect it, the smell would leave them to the mass grave. We had left them all there to rot without even a layer of dirt to protect them from the animals who certainly feasted upon them.
And there it was; the long anticipated wail of grief, Mrs. Livingston had found her daughter’s remains. I could feel Mrs. Livingston’s sorrow; I could hear the loss of a future, the shattering of hope, the death of a dream. I vomited all over my shoes.
Day 19, Continued, the Post Office
Once Janey was stabilized and the worst of the bleeding was stopped they pulled the Humvee around to the back of the post office. They unloaded her and carried her into the sorting room where the old man continued to work on her. They did a transfusion as the bleeding became more and more under control. OMT was given some water and was profusely thanked for the rescue by the post office survivors. The old man was a retired physician named Walt Carter and along with Evan Moore, the local post master, made up the leadership team for survivors. However, instead of ten, there were more than forty survivors in the two story building; they had gathered here from four nearby villages. The 47 individuals were all that were left of the 4,874 original inhabitants of the little West Virginia towns. They were actually pretty well organized but were low on both weapons and ammunition.
When OMT observed that there was an abundance of women and children Dr. Carter said that they had lost twelve men who had gone out on a supply mission two days before, they had been caught in a nearby town by the two quads that they had just fought. The only survivor of the mission, was bleeding badly when he came stumbling back to the post office. He had died of the infection before realizing he had led the eight monsters right back to his people.
OMT, Carter, and Moore discussed how the monsters had broken into two teams and entered the town from either end in order to trap the survivors. OMT told them about the
humming circle
and then showed them the photos of his rather crude autopsy. He told them that he thought they could give some weapons but there was no way they had room for all of them at the lodge. He thought they could set up radio communications between the two outposts and perhaps support each other with supplies and firepower if necessary. OMT voiced his opinion that for now we had to survive and to achieve that the groups of survivors had to be able to hide at every opportunity, run if possible, and fight when necessary. But he also thought that fighter teams, much like the sergeant, Janey and himself could travel and try to intercept the quads in order to mess up their search patterns. Carter and Moore and the people who were listening to the conversation were struck dumb by so many revelations including OMTs report of the demise of the US Military. He did not tell them that his view was only shared by Lieutenant Klein. OMT ended the discussion by saying he had to report via radio back to the lodge; “to your Lt. Klein?” Moore asked, “Naw, 5 year old” OMT said as he headed down the stairs to the Humvee.