Zompoc Survivor: Exodus (12 page)

“I’ll have the last laugh, mother fu-” he got out before I turned and put the last round in the Python round through his face.

“Not today.”

Chapter
10

A Good Man…

It is the task of a good man to help those in misfortune

~ Sophocles ~

There were steam tunnels running under the southern half of the MSU campus. One came up near the locker rooms in McDonald Arena, in a utility room. When I’d worked campus security two years before, we used them during the winter to check various buildings or get around campus without being seen. Right now, they were my route to freedom and survival. Outside, I could hear gunfire as a near constant white noise. I turned the volume up on the radio as I headed down the hallway toward the locker rooms.

“No!” Keyes voice came over the radio. In the background, I could hear the sound of a helicopter’s rotors. “They’re not important, don’t wait for them. We have Mr. Sikes on board, that’s all that matters. Get this thing in the air!” I pulled the radio out of its pocket and thumbed the preselect to the next frequency, and all I got was the sound of grunting and chewing. So much for that position. The next one was pure static, but the next few were full of chatter.

“We’re being overrun here!”

“…need more ammo! The fifty’s run dry and we’re down to sidearms!”

“Roger, Drifter, we are airborne now, heading to staging area one to extract the big dog.”

“Negative, Ranger Six, staging area one is a no go, repeat, area one is no go!” I stopped in my tracks as Adams voice came over the line. Sporadic pops filtered in from the background. The heavy iron hatch was in front of me, literally under my feet. Escape was all but a given, all I had to do was keep going. Instead, I stopped the scan and listened.

“Karma One, can you make point bravo?” I heard the voice of Ranger Six ask. I pulled the hatch open and slid down into the cramped concrete tunnel. All I had to do was go north, and I’d slip out beneath the feet of the zombie horde. The radio signal went staticy as I crouched there and listened.

“Negative, Ranger, negative. Command post is secure, but we have no exit. The stadium is overrun, and they’re starting to swarm the field.” Adams’ voice was resigned, sounding like a man who knew he was not going to live much longer. I looked north, toward freedom, then south and recalled the last part of the Airman’s Creed.
I will never leave an Airman behind, I will never falter and I will not fail.
I cursed, then thumbed the transmit button on the radio.

“Karma One, this is…uh, Tertiary. Do you read me?” I said into the mike.

“Who the hell is this?” Ranger Six demanded. “Clear this channel!” A few seconds passed, then Adams voice came back on the line.

“Tertiary, what is the status of Primary?” he asked.

“He’s busy chewing on some lead. Karma, what is your position? Are you in the press box on top of the home team bleachers?”

“Affirmative Tertiary. Recommend you evac any way you can.”

“Can’t do that, Captain. Can you make it down into the lower levels? I can get you out.” More silence, then his voice came over the radio again.

“Yeah, Tertiary. What is our rendezvous point?”

“When you see me, aim for where I am.”

“Roger that. We’ll be waiting.” I didn’t bother to sign off, I just pulled the trap door shut above me and took off south, heading deeper into the shit and cursing myself for an idiot all the way. I hustled as fast as I could in the pipe-lined tunnels, but it was still pretty slow going. In a couple of places, I had to duck under crossing pipes and conduits. By the time I came to the first turn I was dripping sweat. I passed the east facing tunnel and kept going straight until it ended in a T, then turned west, to my right. By now, I was under the fifty yard line, probably right beneath the big maroon bear in the middle of the field. Another two hundred feet further on, I found myself at the little cutout that led up into the lower levels of Plaster Stadium. The tunnel led back north from here, angling toward Temple Hall, the science building.

I stopped there, and took a moment to get my game face on. From here, things were going to get hairy. As soon as I came up out of the tunnels, I was a target for any ghoul or zombie out there. For a moment, I felt myself balance at the edge of full blown panic as I got the full impact of what I was about to do. I wasn’t a soldier, I was just a guy with a gun. Granted, it was a fancy gun, but that didn’t make me special or invulnerable.

“Fear is what makes you smart,” I told myself quietly. “Only a dead hero isn’t afraid.” I was just a guy, but I was a guy with a plan, and that put me two steps ahead of most people today. I slung the assault rifle and climbed the ladder up to the trap door, then shoved it up and open before I could think too much about what the hell I was about to do.

The trap door came up in another utility room filled with the usual assortment of pipes and supplies, among them a roll of the universal repair kit known as duct tape. The door unlocked from the inside, and a little duct tape over the latch kept it from catching behind me. It also conveniently marked the door for me for later. I pulled the door flush and made my way toward the stands, coming out of the concrete breezeway right on the fifty yard line. I could see a mix of zombies shuffling around and ghouls running back and forth across the limited field the breezeway offered. Once I could see the field, I unslung the bulky H&K and belly crawled until I could see sky. Above me, I could see the stadium lights glaring against the night sky. The sound of helicopter rotors and gunfire was now punctuated by near constant screams of dying men and the hungry moan of the zombies. I made my way to the low wall that separated the stands from the red surface of the running track that circled the field, then turned over so I could see the press box. There was vague movement behind the glass, so I keyed the mic on my radio.

“Karma One, this is Tertiary, do you copy?” I said softly.

“Roger, Tertiary,” Adams voice came through, this time much clearer.

“Look down at the field. Do you see me?” I said, then waved my right hand.

“Roger that. We see you. We’re ready at the door.” I could hear the grin in his voice.

“When it goes dark, get yourself down to the field. I’ll meet you there.” With that, I turned around and crawled back into the lower level. One of the other duties we had when I worked security was letting the faculty into the stadium early in the mornings to turn off the lights just before daybreak. I’d only had to do it a few times in the six months that I’d worked there, but I remembered where the fuse boxes were. Less than a minute later, I was facing the panel, and wondering which ones did what. Without enough time to figure the whole thing out, I pulled the flashlight from my newly liberated tactical vest and turned the knob to the red LED light before switching it on. Then, I reached for the four large circuit breakers labeled “Main” and started flipping them to the off position. The lights went out inside and outside, and I found myself plunged into darkness for a few seconds until the emergency lights came on.

“Drifter, this is Ranger Six, we have Karma on thermal,” I heard over the radio. “Hostiles moving their way. We have a shot, request clearance to engage.”

“Ranger, you have a go to engage at will. I say again, engage, engage.”

“Roger that, Drifter. Lighting zak up. Karma, keep your heads down. Engaging tangoes with door guns.” I made it to the stands in time to see tracers arcing toward the stadium from the darkness in a steady stream. On the heels of the first rounds came the ripping sound of a minigun and the deceptive tapping of bullets hitting concrete and aluminum. Interspersed with that were the slapping sounds of lead making violent contact with flesh. Then there was only the distant sound of gunfire again.

“Hostiles down,” Ranger Six said a few seconds later. I waited in the darkness with my light covered until I heard the soft shuffle of feet, then the thump of someone dropping onto the steps above me. Two more thumps came, then I heard the clanging of someone hitting the aluminum benches.

“Karma, we count six hostiles moving your way from the southeast,” Ranger’s voice came over the radio. I popped my head up and saw a group of figures running toward us across the field. Without the stadium lights, I was guessing that they were heading for the sound instead of anything they’d seen. It was enough, though. The assault rifle came up to my shoulder and I squeezed off a burst, knocking one of the dark figures down and staggering another. I adjusted my aim and fired a longer burst, and saw the flash image of a blond girl in a purple shirt and jeans take three rounds to the chest and the darker skinned guy with short dreadlocks in a button down shirt and slacks behind her drop. Another figure also dropped, but I didn’t see any details. I felt a pang of guilt at shooting them, mostly because both looked like they weren’t old enough to drink. It didn’t stop me from emptying the magazine into the rest of the group and putting another two of them down. Fighting the urge to draw my pistol, I grabbed a new mag, hit the magazine release and slid the new one home. The urge to bring the gun back up and pull the trigger was strong as I heard feet slapping against the track, but I remembered to pull the charging handle back and release it before I did. When I brought the gun up, the muzzle flash showed me an older woman in a business suit jerking as I emptied half the new mag into her. Movement to my right caught my eye, and I saw a group of ghouls racing across the field. I tried to keep my burst short, but the gun clicked empty after three pulls of the trigger. The rational part of my brain knew I didn’t have the trigger discipline to go full auto, and that I was going through ammo too quickly. Again, I changed the magazine as fast as I could, then took the extra second to switch the selector to three round bursts after I primed a round. The optical sight lined up on the lead ghoul, a huge guy silhouetted in the light of the buildings behind him, and I pulled the trigger. He tumbled and I moved to the next target, then the next, pulling the trigger only when I had a target. More gunfire came from above and behind me and my target rich environment thinned a little more. I dropped a ghoul on the left of the advancing wave of undead, then the firing pin fell on an empty chamber.

“Reloading!” came a voice from behind me, and I repeated the call as I grabbed another magazine from the cargo pocket. Suddenly, two men came up and knelt down beside me, guns up and blazing. A hand fell on my shoulder, and Adams pulled me back toward the breezeway.

“Come on!” he yelled over the sound of gunfire. “Get us outta here!” I nodded and headed into the breezeway. Adams was beside me with his pistol up. He’d attached a suppressor to the bulky sidearm, and he reached up to flip up his NVGs once we got into the dimly lit interior.

“They’re getting back up!” I heard someone behind us call out.

“Switch to semi-auto and go for the head shot!” another voice replied. There was a moment of silence, then I heard the single pops of semi-automatic fire. I clicked my light on again and kept my eyes to my right, looking for the shine of duct tape against the jamb. When I got to the long hallway that ran lengthwise under the stands, I uttered a curse. Somewhere in the dark, I’d taken the wrong turn, and I’d come out the wrong breezeway. A glance to my left revealed the red exit sign for the south doors, so I must have stopped short in the dark after I’d shut the power off. Turning to my right, I headed north. The sound of combat boots on concrete came from behind me, and I felt my shoulders twitch a little. Silence was as much a shield as darkness, but we also had to hurry.

Movement in the hallway ahead of us pulled me up short, and I pointed the light ahead of us. A woman in a dark colored shirt with Greek letters over her right breast turned to face us, and I could see something dark glistening on her face. Without a word, Adams brought his pistol up and pulled the trigger. The gun coughed in his hand, and the woman dropped with the left half of her skull missing.

“Turning right in the main breezeway. Zak is in the house,” he said into his radio as we pressed forward.

“Falling back, Captain,” someone replied. The gunfire was almost constant now, and I heard someone call out “Reloading!” behind us. Two more yelled it in quick succession, then I heard the sharper sound of pistol fire and curses. I picked up the pace, jogging along until I came to the next breezeway. I skidded to a stop and poked my head around the corner, then jumped back as teeth snapped together less than an inch from my nose. This time, I didn’t scream like a little girl. I managed a more manly expletive as I jumped back, then Adams’ right hand snaked over my shoulder and his gun barked again. Something wet sprayed my face and when I opened my eyes again, I could see more zombies shuffling toward us, backlit against the opening of the breezeway. The bulk of them were on the far side of the door we needed to get to, but the balance was shifting with every second on that. The captain took a step to my left and kept firing. His first two rounds dropped a zombie apiece before I could bring the H&K up. With the optical sights and the light from behind my targets, it was a lot easier to line up shots. I pulled the trigger and shifted my aim as one went down, then had to line up on the second one again when it didn’t go down the first time. The third and fourth went down with one round to the head each, and the right side of the fifth one’s skull disappeared on my second try. Beside me, Adams was firing methodically, sweeping from the left side of the hall, while I aimed for the center. Someone stepped up on my right and started unloading rounds from a suppressed pistol as I found my bullet count climbing through the mid-twenties. When I dropped the mag and called out that I was reloading, he put a hand on my shoulder.