Zombie Fallout | Book 14 | The Trembling Path Page 11

  “I’d feel better if he’d at least move his hand, sir.”

  “The tough bastard is alive. That’s enough until we can pull him out of there.”

  The Stryker bucked wildly. Walde was attempting to find the sweet spot on the accelerator that would keep them from stalling. The indicator for engine heat had swiftly traveled out of the yellow warning area and into the red.

  “We’re going to overheat.”

  “Been in these a few times before—it will keep going for a while,” Overland said. Walde got the distinct impression the major was going to keep it running by sheer force of will. They were ten yards away from their target when it stalled again. Four cranks later, Walde got it back up and running.

  “Sweet shit,” Reed said, tossing the hot panel to the back. He was staring at a melting pot of cables and wires. “Bags?”

  “Nothing…can’t find one,” he said, referring to the fire extinguisher. “I’ve got a full canteen.”

  “Didn’t your momma ever teach you anything about electrical fires? Or was she too busy fixing cars?” Reed asked.

  “Right now?” Baggelli asked.

  “Reed, do something about that!” Overland called back.

  The transport area was filling with toxic smoke. The private quickly tied a bandanna around his nose and mouth before grabbing an old sweater. He was going to smother the fire, though he knew his chances of success were not good if they couldn’t shut the machine down. The Stryker was shuddering; he could not get the feeling out of his mind that it was going through its death throes, its last breath before being called to that great junkyard in the sky. He was able to smother most of what he could see, but he was certain it had traveled further inward, burning a hole through everything in its path. The ventilation system was doing an adequate job clearing the smoke, given that it was a government contractor job.

  “I see him,” Walde said. Forsyth raised his head and weakly lifted a hand. The zombies immediately surrounding him had not moved, though the vast majority of the others were attacking the intruders.

  “Pull up to the left of him. Bags, Reed, get ready. He’ll be immediately to your right.”

  “Sir, he might be safer out there. Maybe we should withdraw, try again with something more seaworthy,” Walde said.

  “We’re here. This is our opportunity.” Overland was driven. “Might not get another one.”

  Walde thought they might not get this one, but said nothing. The Stryker chugged forward; it was being battered from within and from without. Overland moved to the back to support his men.

  “Bags, you and I will cover Reed. You’ll drag Forsyth in. Got it?”

  Both men nodded, but the folly of the plan was not lost on either.

  “Lost power,” Walde said as the machine came to a grinding halt.

  “How close?” Overland asked, referring to Forsyth’s position.

  “About twenty feet.”

  That distance didn’t sound like much until you realized it would be packed full of a rabid enemy. With the thrum of the engine stopped, all that could be heard were the components cooling and the hammering up above as the zombies sought a way past the tough exterior to the fleshy interior.

  “Walde, can you get her started?” Overland called out.

  “Without getting to the engine compartment, I don’t know, sir.”

  “Keep trying. Gunny Tynes.”

  “I hear you, sir.”

  “We’re dead in the water. We’re going to need extraction.”

  “Fuck.” Mike couldn’t help himself. He was pissed. Not only had Overland put his unit in jeopardy, he now wanted to drag his squad into the thick of it.

  “Something to say, Lieutenant?” Overland asked brusquely.

  “Nothing that lets me keep this butter bar,” he replied.

  “I know enough about you, Lieutenant, to realize you would never leave one of your people behind.”

  Mike knew he had him there, but it was different when he risked everything. There was the axiom of sacrificing the one for the many. Mike had been through this scenario before; it was easy to say those words and even mean them, but when the one was a known entity, that changed the equation. At that point, it was risking the many for the few and that was definitely what was happening right now.

  “BT?”

  “I’ve got this, Mike. I’ve already got Grimm and Rose looking for something.”

  “Let me know the second you’re heading out.”

  “Am I doing the right thing?” BT asked Tommy off the comms.

  “We’ll get through,” Tommy replied.

  “Before all of this, I was on my own. Not a lone wolf type of thing, but I preferred to work alone…sometimes alongside, when the circumstances dictated, but leading men and women into perilous situations, I don’t like it. Who would have thought I’d like to have Mike here, right now?”

  “It doesn’t hurt to have someone that can bend fate to their will.”

  “Truth?”

  Tommy shrugged. “It appears that way, sometimes,” he mused. “I think they’re coming back.”

  They saw an exhaust plume and the sound of a large engine.

  “Good thing it wasn’t Kirby we sent out; the kid would have come back with a Ford Fiesta,” BT said. “And not because he didn’t know better but because he’d want to see if it could do it.”

  “That’ll work,” Tommy said, looking at the cement truck.

  Rose waved at them from the passenger seat. She hopped down when Grimm came to a squealing stop.

  “Needs brakes, but we got the upgraded package,” Rose said. She smiled, pointing to the bumper where two Claymore mines were attached. “Got one on each side and two on the back, too.”

  “This is one badass improvised military vehicle.” Grimm was standing on the running board.

  “And where are we going to put the people we’re transporting?” BT asked.

  “In the mixer.” Grimm was smiling like an idiot.

  “So, we’re going to put a SEAL team in a spinning mixer lined with blades meant to keep cement from hardening?” BT asked.

  Grimm’s smile faded as he looked at the giant, spinning drum.

  “Just a gearbox, Gunny. I can have it undone in ten minutes or Marine Corps broken in five,” Grimm told him.

  “The Marine Corps way or no way. Good job, you two. No push-ups for you, Grimm,” BT said. “Major, we’ll be there in fifteen.”

  “Ten would be better,” Overland said.

  “Well, if you don’t mind riding inside an industrial Cuisinart, we could do that,” BT told him.

  “Fifteen it is, out,” Overland said.

  They roared away from Broadway; Grimm had been successful in stopping the mixer and Tommy had set himself up in the uncomfortable space.

  “You alright back there?” BT asked.

  Rose was beside him, busily setting up the triggers for her explosives. “Fewer bumps Grimm!” she yelled.

  “Sorry! There aren’t many pothole repair crews out these days.”

  “You don’t have to go out of your way to hit every one of them!”

  Grimm gestured to the road that, in some spots, was all pothole, looking for backup from his gunny.

  “Let it go,” BT said.

  “I swear, Grimm, you hit one more and I’m going to detonate your ejection seat!”

  “It’s a cement truck, Rose, there isn’t an ejection seat,” he told her.

  “That’s what you think.” She was bent over, working in her duffel bag of supplies in the footrest area. “These are going to do some damage.”

  “You seeing this?” Grimm asked his gunny as they came upon the scene. Hundreds of zombies had been destroyed, yet thousands remained, and they were all converging on one spot.

  “That’s got to be them.” The gunny was looking at the highest spot in the surrounding area.

  “How are we going to get them out of that truck and onto this one?” Grimm asked.

  Rose looked u
p. “Leave it to me. Time to earn my pay.”

  “You’re getting paid?” Grimm asked.

  “You aren’t?” was all she replied with.

  “We’re here, Major. We’re working our way to you now,” BT said, Mike and Overland both gave the same response. “Be careful.”

  Grimm looked grim as he ran over the first rows of bodies. They were deep into enemy territory before any of the standing zombies took notice.

  “Get Forsyth first. I’m not sure how we’re going to get out of this truck,” Overland said. All listening understood the implications of his words.

  “My corporal has some surprises; you’ll all be riding in style soon enough,” BT said. “He’s right, though, Grimm, I don’t want Forsyth out in Rose’s fireworks show. Come in on the far side.” BT pointed around where Overland had stalled. “Most of their attention is fixated on the Stryker; maybe we can get in and get out.”

  “You don’t believe that, right, Gunny?” Rose asked. “I’d like to think that at least one of my superiors has their shit together.”

  “I can hear you, Private,” Mike said.

  “It’s Corp…oh, right. Sorry, sir.”

  “The ones around him…are you seeing this? They’re not moving. It looks like he has bodyguards,” Grimm said.

  “Both hands on the wheel,” BT directed as the truck began to bounce over the road hazards.

  “Appears to still be human; he doesn’t look like he’s moving, though.” Rose was trying to get a better angle to view the man; she made sure to cover her comm before speaking.

  BT knew it wasn’t going to matter one way or the other if Forsyth was alive or dead—Overland would want to retrieve his friend regardless. “He’s alive,” BT said.

  “You sure, Gunny?” Rose asked.

  “Positive. Don’t care what Dewey ordered them to do. If Forsyth had died, these zombies would have feasted.”

  “How’s it going out there?” Overland asked, hearing a lot of garbled transmissions.

  “Figuring the best angle of approach, sir,” BT said. “Our target is not moving.”

  “Thermal shows him alive,” Overland said.

  “Tommy, we’re going to clear what we can as we go past. The rest is going to be up to you,” BT said.

  “Roger that,” Tommy replied.

  “I wonder if Kirby would be so inclined to play his zombie-killing video games if he were here to do this.”

  “Damn, Rose, that’s pretty harsh; we play because there’s no chance of dying,” Grimm said.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Rose asked him.

  “No wonder Kirby likes Doom; he’s into the dark and dangerous, and not just on TV.”

  “The lieutenant is the one into the gallows humor, and he’s not here. Could we please focus on what needs to be done?” BT asked. “Make sure your earpieces are in.” BT unrolled his window and placed the majority of his weapon out of the cab. “Quit hitting the potholes, Grimm!” he shouted as he aimed in. He kept the rifle selector on single-shot, afraid an errant bullet would come entirely too close to the man they were attempting to rescue. Every time he shot one of Forsyth’s guards, another from the mob would take its place. “This is fairly useless. Tommy, I can’t make you a hole; they’re filling it back in as fast as I take it down.”

  “I’ve got this,” Tommy told him.

  “Better move quickly.” BT was watching through the sideview mirror as more and more zombies began to take note of the newest arrivals. He was doing his best to keep his body in between Grimm and Rose’s line of sight to Tommy. The boy was bound to do things that the gunny would be hard-pressed to explain, it would be better for all concerned if they were not witness to it at all.

  “It’s all you,” BT said as they pulled up and past. The zombies that had been teetering on the border of indecision coalesced their resolve once Tommy came into view as if they knew he was somehow different, a more viable threat to their mission.

  “They must know he’s going for the gunny,” Rose said as they all watched the zombies turn like a school of fish and home in on the back of the truck.

  “Can you help him out?” BT had stuck his head out and was watching as the zombies converged.

  “Not really. Not without risking us, the truck, and the gunny.”

  “How strong are those mines?” BT asked.

  “My guess is too strong,” Grimm said. “She’s heavy-handed. You’ve seen her work…remember the mountain she took down?”

  Rose flipped him off.

  Zombies streamed by the front of the truck and were heading to the back while Grimm and BT were firing their rifles, doing all that they could to stem the tide. The results were like trying to hold the ocean back with a bucket. Even the zombies atop the Stryker were beginning to move off and away to stop Tommy from succeeding. Tommy had jumped down off the back and was shoving zombies to the side, striking them hard enough to break bones as he did so.

  BT wasn’t thrilled with having witnesses, but he wasn’t in the best position to help his charge. “Major, the zombies are leaving you. Our man could use some covering fire.” BT watched as Tommy struck a zombie in the temple with enough force its head snapped back, and broke its neck. He swung the buttstock of his rifle to dislodge the next one’s jaw. He was moving fast as he fought, dodging when he could, destroying when he couldn’t. In these close quarters, his rifle was best used as a club, and he wielded it with deadly precision.

  “You seeing this shit?” Reed asked Baggelli as he primed his weapon. “What the hell are they feeding those Marines?”

  “I guess a whole bunch of get some.” Baggelli was shooting rapidly, doing his best to give Forsyth’s potential savior as much room as possible.

  Reed’s next words were lost in the loud percussions of the top-mounted cannon as it laid down zombies by the dozens. Forsyth had turned over, barely able to do more than gaze up at the sky; he was aware enough to realize something big was going on around him but did not have enough energy to do anything about it, and he was perched on the edge of caring. BT had the passenger door open and was precariously balanced, firing his rifle as well. Zombies fought through the ring of death only to be met by Tommy, who dispatched of them with prejudice.

  Swinging his weapon with one hand, Tommy grabbed Forsyth’s arm and wrenched the man up as if he were stuffed with straw.

  “Guy must live in the gym,” Baggelli shouted.

  “Adrenaline.” Reed was busy checking the gun as Walde reloaded below him. “Package in hand!” he shouted when Forsyth was unceremoniously slung over Tommy’s shoulder. The rescue became infinitely more dangerous as he was only able to use one arm. “He looks bad.” Reed was referring to Forsyth, who was not moving of his own volition but rather jerking around as Tommy twisted, punched, and kicked his way back to the cement truck.

  “Gunny…zees are coming for us!” Grimm warned.

  “Faster, Tommy! The window is closing,” BT urged.

  There was no response as Tommy stumbled and dropped to a knee. A zombie leaped in and knocked his rifle free.

  “Package and courier are down!” Reed informed as he once again began firing, this time getting much closer than he would have liked to both of the men. “Shit,” he mumbled; the odds had been bad when the Marine had started, and they were steadily going downhill ever since. “Going in!”

  “Stand down, Reed!” Overland ordered.

  “He’s not going to make it, sir!”

  There was a small pile of zombies diving into the mix, teeth-gnashing, gnarled hands seeking purchase to hold their quarry in place. Baggelli had stepped out of the hatch and brought his rifle up. The pile was wriggling and two zombies fell away as Tommy shakily stood. Four had stayed attached, looking for a place to grab meat from.

  “Fuck me,” Baggelli said. “He’s got to be carrying a thousand pounds.” He redoubled his efforts, taking well-aimed shots at the creatures hanging from the Marine as Tommy began wading back.

  “He’s up,
fuck me, he’s up!” Reed wanted to pump his fist in the air, thought it better to keep shooting. “Package is in the truck!” Reed reported as Tommy tossed the gunny inside.

  “Clear,” Tommy breathed through his headset as he climbed in, kicking the last of the zombies in the teeth as he joined the gunny in the back.

  “Overland, get your people inside and shut the hatches. Going to clear a path and then make a run for it!” BT was breathing heavily, zombies were coalescing on the truck, climbing aboard and ripping at any part of it they could in a bid to render it unable to move. “Now! Rose, now!” BT said as he closed his door and watched the SEALs pull back into the Stryker.

  She flipped a switch. Thousands of ball bearings shot out and turned everything in their path into a fine mist of blood, bone, hair, and rags.

  “Fuck me!” Reed repeated as he covered his ears. The inside of the Stryker sounded like the bell tower in Notre Dame ringing in the new Pope.

  “Claymore!” Walde shouted over the din.

  “Go, go, go!” Overland was pushing his people up and out even before the echoing noise inside could die down.

  “Damn,” Baggelli said as he moved quickly, doing his best to not slide on the detritus littered all over the ground. He laid down covering fire as the rest of the group joined him. Reed pulled on Baggelli, who followed the rest inside the back of the cement truck.

  Walde was looking over Forsyth.

  “We’re in, Gunny!” Overland was out of breath. Reed and Baggelli were firing from the opening in the back.

  “Grimm, get us out of here,” BT told him. “Rose, do your thing!”

  Fire in the hole!” she shouted as she blew the Claymores attached to the three other sides of the truck. Zombies fell away like wheat in gale force winds.

  Grimm gunned the engine and they were underway.

  “Is he bit?” Overland had got down next to his gunny.

  “Don’t see anything, sir,” Walde told him.

  “Unreal, man, just unreal.” Baggelli had gone over to Tommy, who was hunched over, covered in blood, his clothes torn in a dozen different places. “Shit. Reed, give me your water. We need to clean this man up.”

  “I’m good,” Tommy told him as he covered a wound on his arm with his hand.