White Flag of the Dead (19 page)

I looked at the group assembled, and found my Shooters. There were four of them, I made up the fifth. We had two jobs. We were to shoot the Z’s if they got too swarmy, and we were to act as decoys to get them to the eradication squads. Not too hard, but accidents happened. I looked over at Nate, and he nodded toward Frank, who was looking very glum as a Dragger. He held the pole as if he expected it to bite him, and I saw him looking over his shoulder at the other three members of his squad. Something tickled the back of my mind and I went over to Nate, who was checking the gear of an Eradicator whose pole seemed shaky.

“Heads up, Nate.”

Nate glanced at me. “What’s that, bro?”

“I think we’re going to have some runners today.”

Nate’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Your buddy?”

“Yeah. I get the feeling he’s wanting to wander off, not liking the rules of this place.”

“Some people are stupid that way. I kind of figured him for an opportunist.”

I thought about that. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t get anyone killed.”

Nate grunted. “If he does I’ll stake his sorry ass out on the lawn and cover him in ranch dressing for the Z’s”

I laughed. “Roger that. Just giving you a gut feeling.”

Nate smiled. “Your gut ain’t been wrong yet.”

I clapped him on the shoulder and went back to my shooters. I rounded them up and sent them to their assigned doors. I would head out the front door, and with luck, we should wrap this operation up quickly. Cleanup crews would head out when we called them, and we would all head for the baths for washing after.

I found my squad and we went through the routine of checking gear and tightening straps. No loose clothing was allowed, and guns were checked to make sure they were loaded and chambered. I lowered my goggles and jacked around into my carbine. For this work I preferred the AR-15 over my M1 Carbine. Thirty rounds of .223 was enough for this work. I saved the M1 for serious work. I checked the window and made sure there were no surprises waiting outside the door. We had taped over the windows and had a thin slit for viewing. No Z’s were close to the door, although there was a middle-aged guy about ten yards out. He was first.

I flicked the safety off, braced my foot on the release bar of the front door, and shoved the door outward, moving into the morning light. I didn’t have far to go, and was immediately the center of attention of about seven zombies that had been milling about the parking lot before I popped out at them. They must have thought dinner was about to be served because as one, they started to move towards me and my group. We quickly fanned out and went towards the closest zombie. He reached a mangled hand out to take hold of the first guy he saw, only to go crashing down to the dirt on his face. The hook had taken out his legs. Immediately the two pinners jumped on him before he had a chance to get back up. One leaned in with the pole on his back and the other pinned his head to the ground. The basher ran in and with one hard swung to the top of the head, the zombie was finished. I focused on the remaining zombies and figured the teenage boy with the mutilated face was next, he was moving a little faster than the rest and would be closest. The other five were a little more spread out, and would not get to us in time.

My squad fanned out again, giving the Z multiple targets, which confused his poor virus-infected brain. He stopped and looked around, then focused on the pinner which was taunting him with a pole. He reached out and grabbed at the pole, which allowed the tripper to hook his ankles and drop him on his ass. The pinner then jumped on him, keeping his body down while the other one danced in to try and pin down his head. Trouble was, he was too slow, and the first pinner stepped too close. The zombie managed to grab hold of the pinner’s ankle and start to drag his foot closer to his gaping mouth. Chipped teeth bared and the other hand tried to grab the pole that was pinning him to the ground.

“Shoot him!” cried the pinner, grabbing my attention from the encroaching zombies, two of which had my undivided attention, as they were moving way too fast for comfort. “Shoot him!”

I had to move to get a shot, which was becoming difficult as the pinner had let go of his pole and was trying to rip his leg away from the zombie. The two other members were paralyzed, not sure of what to do.

“Please God, Shoot him NOW!” Screamed the pinner, kicking at the zombie who was grabbing now with both hands and trying to bring a flailing leg in for a bite. I stepped to the left and fired a shot, the report extremely loud in the morning. The round slammed into the zombie’s shoulder, knocking him off his victim, but definitely not out of the fight. His teeth ground together as a new moan erupted from his mouth, and he rolled over to get to his feet.

I was about to deliver another shot when my basher stepped in, and swinging his weapon like a baseball bat, crushed the zombie’s skull and dropped him like a bag of crap. I looked at the saved pinner and pointed to the gun on his hip. The idiot could have shot the zombie himself.

Two down and holy shit! I looked back to the other zombies and found two of them were way too close together for the squad to be effective. I lined up the head of one in my sights and just as a pulled the trigger, the son of a bitch ducked. What the fuck was that? It was like he knew I was shooting at him. He stayed in a crouched position and actually sped up to what I considered a fast walking pace. I dropped my sights and fired again, nailing him in the forehead and killing him for good. I switched my sights to the second one, but my squad had recovered their wits and moved in to kill this one. They actually surrounded the teenage girl zombie and the two pinners held her head up from the sides while the basher moved in from behind. Her moans were pitiful as she grabbed at the poles which held her head immobile. Her shirt was shredded, and her back was missing chunks of flesh where she had been attacked. Her neck was a raw open wound, and likely was how she died.

With the girl dead, we had two left to deal with, and they were coming at more leisurely pace. I directed the squad to the closest one, while I moved out to keep the other occupied. I thought I heard a scream from the other side of the building, but I was not about to go look just yet. Standing rule was you finish what was in front of you before you went looking for seconds.

As the zombie got closer, I was amazed once again at the virus that continued to animate these corpses. This guy must have been dead for a while, as he was shirtless and his mottled grey skin was torn and hanging off in various places. I didn’t see a wound which meant he likely caught the virus through secondary contact. His mouth was a bloody ruin, and one eye was missing, as if he had been in a nasty fight for his last meal. He lurched towards me on legs that had seen too many miles. His femur was showing through a hole in his pants leg, and he reached out with claw-like hands to grab hold as he moved slowly closer. I backed up a few steps, keeping an eye on him, but also stealing a glance around for any others.

My squad killed the other zombie, a small Hispanic female with only one arm, then moved over to mine. They dropped the man, pinned and bashed him in short order, then we all looked around for more targets. None in sight.

I breathed a sigh of relief when the screams started again, this time they were more like shrieks, and there were several gunshots coming from the side of the building.

I yelled at the squad as I ran to the side of the building “Weapons out, weapons out!” I didn’t know what I was going to find, but we were not going to be unprepared I stopped them about ten feet from the edge of the building and motioned them to stay behind me. I had the heavy firepower so I was going to go first. I angled away from the building and started forward, “cutting the pie” as the term was called from my old IDPA days. Never thought I would actually be using those skills, but I guess that was the point of the competition.

I rounded the corner and saw chaos. Two members of a squad were down, and each had four or five zombies on them, eating whatever they could tear off. The other members of the squad were in a small group, facing outward with their poles, pushing zombies away that got too close. They couldn’t take their eyes off the Z’s long enough to draw their weapons, which explained the standoff. I could see the poles of a pinner and a basher on the ground, which made sense as to why the remaining members could not deal with the zombies in front of them. I briefly wondered where their shooter was, but then I heard a shot coming from the field just west of the road that led to the parking lot in the back of the building. Time to work.

“Take out the feeders! Heads shots! Now!” I yelled, earning me grateful looks from my team. They spread out and four guns barked as one, dropping the zombies feeding on the basher from the besieged group. They ran to the next group and their guns barked again. I went to work on the standing zombies, and I shot like a metronome…aim, fire, aim, fire, aim, fire. I shot four zombies and the fifth turned his head to look to me. That was wrong. They don’t ever take their eyes off prey. What the hell was going on? First the ducker, now this. The zombie, a guy about thirty, turned from his attack on the small group and came at me, his legs moving quickly. I didn’t have time to line up a killing shot when he was on me, knocking me to the ground. My rifle was between us and that was likely the only thing that saved me. His head reared back for a bite, his mouth opening wide. I shifted the gun’s muzzle and jammed it into his mouth. His yellowed teeth clamped on the barrel, and two of them chipped to jagged points. His hands clawed at my back and arms, trying to get me in for a killing bite. I pushed at him, trying to get my hand on the trigger to blow his head off, but his clothing had gotten in the way. I rolled to the left, pinning the zombie beneath me, still keeping the rifle between us as a way to keep from being bit, my back was hurting like hell where the Z had been clawing at me. The good news was scratches didn’t turn you into a zombie. Bad news was you nearly died from infection from the rotting things.

“Fuck this.” I said, taking my hand off the rifle and shoving it into his throat. That was a risk. I had seen other guys do that only to shove their hands into waiting mouths. I got lucky. I pushed back and sat up as I straddled his struggling form, keeping my hand on his throat. A gargled moan came from his lips as he struggled and thrashed at my arms. I drew my sidearm and, shoving the barrel in between his eyebrows, fired once, ending the zombie once and for all.

I stood up and surveyed the damage. Two members were definitely down and finished. I walked over to where the bludgeon lay and picked up the heavy stick. I went back to the two still forms, and with two very swift swings, ensured that they would not be coming back for dinner. Sometimes the virus reanimated people killed by zombies, sometimes it didn’t. Better to be sure, I always say.

I went over to the survivors and spoke with the other pinner. “What happened?’ I asked.

The pinner, Bill Cross, shook as he looked over his dead squad members. “I’m not sure. One minute we were doing just fine, then all of a sudden this trio of fast moving zombies comes out over the hill and jumps our Shooter. He got one of them, but the other two split up and came at us while we were dealing with that fat one over there.” He indicated with a wave of his hand the large corpse laying a few feet away.

“Wait. You said they split up?” I asked, not sure I had heard correctly.

“Yeah. One of them went after the Shooter and the other came at us from behind. Christian never knew what hit him until the thing had dragged him down. That bought enough time for the rest of them to swarm and hit us as a mob.”

That made sense. Not a lot, but it did. “Where’s your shooter? Where’s Steve?”

Bill looked out over the hill. “He’s down that way. Looks like he’s coming back.”

I followed his gaze. Sure enough, I saw my other Shooter coming back. He walked a little stiff, like his leg was hurting him. I walked over to the top of the embankment and started towards him. He stopped me with a raised hand.

“Sorry, John. That’s as close as you get.” He said, keeping me about twenty feet away.

“What happened, Steve?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

“Fuckers came out of nowhere, moving faster than I ever saw these bastards move. Just wasn’t expecting it, you know?”

I knew, having seen a couple of them myself. “Yeah, I dealt with one myself.”

“Was it the guy in the red shirt?” Steve asked.

“That’s the one.”

“Never saw nothing like it. Four of them came fast, only managed to get a lucky shot off that dropped one of them. The other three charged, but only one attacked me. The other two stopped for a second, looked at me, and then went off to the squad. It was like, like…”

I finished his sentence. “Like they were thinking things through and made a choice.”

“Exactly!” Steve thought for a second. “It was like he knew I would kill him, so he went after easier prey.”

“Need to think about how this changes things, don’t we?” I said.

“You will. Not me.” Steve showed me his hand. It was bloody at the wrist and a chunk was missing.

I didn’t know what to say. Steve was a great guy, not prone to panic, and hated zombies with a passion for killing his wife and children. He knew he wasn’t going to make it and didn’t want to risk anyone else. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He waved me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve avenged my family a dozen times. At least now I can go be with them.” His voice trailed off as he looked around him. I knew what he was doing. He was taking a last look around and just appreciating all the good things he could see. I did that myself, once, when I thought all hope was lost and it would be better just to end it all for Jake and myself. It was different for Steve, though. His family was gone.