Zombie Fallout | Book 14 | The Trembling Path Read online

  “Mitch, tell your men to put their weapons down.” I had mine pressed against the other man’s skull but had five pointed at me while the rest got into a more defensive posture around their vehicles. So much for containment.

  “They won’t. Not for me, not for any one of us. We know the score; if you get in trouble, we’ll do what we can to get you out, but we will not sacrifice others.”

  I quickly grabbed my earpiece and his, I placed the other in my pocket. “I do not have the situation under control, repeat, not under control. Come on, Mitch. Me and you are heading back to the plane.”

  “No.”

  “No? What the fuck do you mean, no? I have a gun pointed at your head.”

  “Not like the situation is going to get any better if I go with you,” he replied. Hard to argue with that logic.

  “Okay, what if I just leave?” The guy was seriously cutting into my options.

  “Can’t have another combatant out there.”

  “Are you serious right now? This is real life. People are going to die needlessly. Yeah yeah, I get it, people are always needlessly dying,” I cut him off before he could say it.

  “Lieutenant, can you hear me?” it was Overland.

  “Loud and clear.”

  “I need you to get out of the hot zone.”

  “It’s not for lack of trying, sir.”

  “Situation?”

  “Pretty sure you’re looking at it.”

  “Can you grab a hostage?”

  “You’d think.”

  “Again?”

  “That’s a negative,” I told him.

  “Bags can light them up.”

  “Marisa’s son has got my back?”

  “I can hear you, shit-bird,” Baggelli said.

  “It’s sir shit-bird.”

  “Huh?” Mitch asked.

  “Oh nothing…it’s just the sniper team that has most of your squad painted checking in.”

  “Sniper squad?” Baggelli asked.

  “SEALs are pretty thorough about that kind of thing. Maybe I die, maybe I don’t. Right now, each of you is under the scope of a high-powered weapon. It looks like your recon missed something pretty important.”

  “He’s bluffing,” Mitch said.

  “Fuck. Now I know why I hate New York,” I said.

  Bo was being tended to, looked like someone had given him a shot of morphine, dulled out the cries of pain, but unless he got some serious medical attention, all that would accomplish was he’d die happy. Sure, there are worse ways to go, but he’d still be dead.

  “We’ve got a medic.”

  “There’s a natural order to things.”

  “Pretty easy to be cavalier about it when it’s not you.”

  “Ask him,” Mitch said.

  So, I did. “Bo, we have a medic and some medical supplies. We can get that leg fixed up.”

  He mumbled something about wanting a beer, a conversation I could get on board with, but as for saving his life, nothing. I couldn’t wrap my mind around any of this.

  “Company is coming for dinner,” Tommy radioed.

  “Oh, what a glorious day. Numbers?”

  “Enough,” Tommy said tersely. I figured that roughly translated to five hundred to a thousand.

  “How about this, Mitch. A shit ton of zombies are heading this way; can we maybe settle our border dispute later?”

  “There are priorities in life, Lieutenant. We will deal with this problem first and the other as it comes into play.”

  “Lieutenant, this is Baggelli, this guy’s a nutjob. I don’t think you’re leaving hostile territory without some help. You’re in the thick of it; your call. I’ll even let the New York comment slide. You just nod your head, and we’ll start.”

  There were a bunch of questions I wanted to ask, like, who he was targeting first, so I knew who I had to take care of. At that very moment, I looked like I’d been in a horrible car accident and my head was in a neck brace; I was very cognizant about not nodding.

  “My spotter says you look like you have a stick jammed up your ass.” I could tell Baggelli was smiling.

  “Mitch, you ever seen My Cousin Vinnie?”

  “Careful, Lieutenant, I’m over four hundred yards away, no telling what can happen with the wind at this range.” Baggelli’s earlier mirth was still in play, though possibly a little more strained.

  “Didn’t have time for movies before, certainly not now.”

  “Your loss.”

  As seems always to be the case, it was the smell that assailed our senses before anything else. The zombies were close and getting closer.

  “Well, Mitch, do we wrap this up now?”

  There was a shift in his men. Something was going to happen and soon. The noose around my neck was tightening. I guess it was going to come down to which of us nodded first.

  “Contact!” a man over by the furthest SUV yelled out, I was hoping he didn’t mean the SEALs. “Sprinters.”

  Mitch looked to me, I couldn’t read anything from his face. He was as impassive as if he were having a dream-free sleep. I had to figure there was a war waging behind those eyes, but he showed not the slightest hint of it.

  “Kill…” he began a moment before his head exploded outward. I will fucking swear until the day I’m laid under, I watched it happen in super slow-motion. The hair on the back of his head fluttered up as the percussion wave from the bullet struck first; his eyes widened imperceptibly as the bullet made first contact with the back of his skull, his head expanding ever so slightly as it forcibly accepted the foreign intruder. His right eye rolled backward as, I figure, his optic nerve was torn apart. The front of his forehead bulged then ruptured as the bullet fought its way through, dragging brain matter and all sorts of supporting substance. Maybe Mitch was casual with Death as his dance partner, but the rest of the squad had a few seconds where they were utterly stunned.

  This was the only window that was going to be afforded me. I spun to my left, my finger keeping steady on the trigger as I sprayed the area. Two of Mitch’s team immediately went down as I peppered them with rounds. Baggelli took out another target; I grunted as I felt the impact of a bullet punch close to my abdomen; my insides felt as if I’d downed a quart of lighter fluid and lit it in preparation for a barbecue. I got hit in the shoulder but managed to kill one more of the men as I spun and my magazine went dry. Tommy, Gary, and Stenzel had what remained of Mitch’s men pinned down. Baggelli was keeping them from getting to any semblance of safety. As for me, I was a round or two from packing for where I was going to end up for all eternity. My shoulder, which felt as if I’d had a ten-penny nail hammered through it, wasn’t even on the same scale as the burning in my belly. I was afraid to look down and see an unraveling of my innards. My confiscated weapon lay by Bo, who seemed carefree regarding the number of rounds whizzing past him.

  My arm creaked and I could feel tissue tearing as I forced it to do things it wasn’t prepared for. I got down on my knees, using Bo as a human shield. I was thankful I’d, for the most part, been forgotten. I wasn’t a threat anymore, but now I had to swallow the bitter pill of using a man that was stoned out of his gourd for my survival; next time I’ll be sure to strap babies to my chest. Sure, he was a combatant, and I was going to do what it took that we both survived, but if push came to shove, he died first. The problem with it was that some battles, and some kills, linger a lot longer than others. I thought this would become one of them, if it came to it. I couldn’t drag Bo with me, and there was a lot of open area for me to attempt a run. I left my rifle perched on Bo’s shoulder; he didn’t seem to mind. If I had to fire, he was going to have some hearing loss in his right ear. Right now, I was concentrating on not bleeding out or drawing any attention. I was doing good on the latter, not so much the former.

  “Sir!” it was a panicked sounding Stenzel. I was worried they were in trouble—turns out she’d seen me get shot.

  “Still here,” I told her through gritted teeth, “and B
o isn’t sharing his morphine.”

  “How bad?”

  “Leaking pretty good…in pain,” I told her haltingly; it somehow hurt worse when I spoke.

  “Sergeant Winters, the LT is down,” Stenzel said.

  “Two minutes out,” Winters replied.

  “Baggelli, finish them,” it was Overland.

  “On it, sir.” He sounded like he was jogging to get into a better firing position.

  I had some blackness encroaching on the peripherals of my vision. So far, I could keep it at bay, but I was expending a lot of energy doing it.

  “Talbot, you hang in there,” that from BT.

  “Hanging,” was all I could manage to reply.

  “Get this bucket moving!” BT roared; I felt bad for whoever was driving.

  “Think my guts are spilling,” I said when I caught a whiff of rotten meat.

  “Get him. We’re going to take off.” Major Eastman had started the plane, the drone of the engines almost louder than the gun battle raging around me.

  “Coming,” Tommy said. I turned slightly to watch the boy; he was standing straight up, rifle to his shoulder, giving suppressive fire as he advanced.

  I wanted to tell him not to be quite so visible; he was making an exceptionally easy target of himself. Mitch’s men had been cut in half, figuratively, and, unfortunately in some cases, literally. It was then that weapons dropped to the ground and hands were raised as they got to their knees.

  “Sir?” pretty sure it was Baggelli asking Overland what he should do. There was a bunch going on and a bunch that still needed to be done; taking and keeping prisoners was not on the list.

  “Bag them,” Overland replied.

  “Sir?” Baggelli asked again; had to think the order wasn’t sitting all that well with him. I understood the necessity of it, but fuck, what a distasteful thing.

  “Get in your fucking cars! Go!” I wanted to shout, came out more as a grunted cough, if that makes sense. I got some blank stares. “Go or you’re dead.” My head sagged from the effort of the few words.

  “You have your orders, Corporal,” Overland said.

  “Sir, rethink this…just let them go,” sounded like PFC Reed, but the button-holing of blackness around my vision was beginning to thicken.

  “Baggelli!” Overland shouted. A shot rang out, drilling the ground next to the man closest to me. He looked to where the shot had come, then at his weapon before turning to me.

  I shook my head no, hoping he got the point that if he touched that rifle, Baggelli or myself were going to have to kill him. He did it anyway. I pulled the trigger, blew two of his fingers off. The bullet then traveled up the length of his arm before crashing through his elbow. He howled out in pain until a second bullet, this one from Tommy, struck him in the neck. Three that could, scurried toward two of the vehicles. Baggelli had still not fired; I could only wonder what Overland would have in store for him when this was over.

  “What’s all the fuss about?” Bo asked, his eyes not focused on anything.

  “Beats me,” I told him.

  The fourth remaining was moving quickly toward me, rifle raised. It seemed he had cover from Baggelli’s angle of fire. I was having a difficult time with my motor skills. The man was either going to kill me or take me hostage; both routes had merit. He was less than five feet from me when he stopped, rifle pointed at my head. Seemed he was going for option two. There was shock and surprise in his face when that bullet struck him in the heart. Didn’t know who had come to the rescue, but I was going to buy them a beer.

  Tommy raced to the scene. He did a quick check of the fallen as the two SUVs raced away. He then gently took my weapon from my hands and rolled me over onto my back. I heard my camo top and shirt being ripped off…within a few seconds after that, I could hear the racing of a motor coming, then Tommy was placing a compression pack on my shoulder and I heard running footsteps.

  “What did I tell you about catching bullets?” Sergeant Winters asked. I saw a look pass between him and Tommy.

  Soon after, there was a total solar eclipse as BT was hovering above me. “You doing all right?” he asked.

  “I could take that morphine now.” I raised my undamaged hand, BT took it. BT looked to Winters and Tommy. “Cut that shit out…how’s it look?” was what I meant to say; I'm not entirely sure how it came out.

  “Looks bad,” Winters said. “If you weren’t who you were, we wouldn’t be talking.”

  Stenzel skidded to a stop by my head. “Shit.” I’m going to say she was looking at my wounds. “Is he going to live?”

  Fuck. I wasn’t shot in the ear, people.

  “I saved you, Michael,” it was Deneaux, of course, she was smoking a cigarette. BT took the weapon from her reluctant claw.

  “Why?” was all I could ask.

  “People were watching.” She coughed. Might have been a laugh. That was a clear enough message, though. Without an audience, she would have let the man finish me off.

  “Somehow you manage to constantly switch between being my greatest ally and my greatest enemy.” I suppose, in terms of why she saved me, her reasons didn’t matter, only that she’d done it. Still had a desire to shove the burning end of that smoke into her eye.

  “Okay, everyone, need some space to work,” I heard Winters say. “We’re going to need to move him quickly before the zombies come,” He was attempting to keep Stenzel from witnessing what was, hopefully, going to be a miraculous recovery. He quickly powered off his and my comms. “This is more for show than anything,” Winters said as he raised the needle. “Hope you enjoy the ride.”

  I didn’t say anything as he plunged it deep into my thigh. Stung for about a second and a half, then everything was magical teacups and dancing dressers. Why I was roaming around in a Disney movie, I don’t know, maybe because it was as far removed from the nightmare I was living as I could possibly get. I now know why Bo had seemed so happy; though right now, the blue of his lips was a better indicator of how he was doing.

  “The bullet in your shoulder went in and out; I’m more worried about the one in your midsection.”

  Tommy swept close. “It’ll come out on its own. Give him blood.”

  “The traditional way…?” Winters asked softly.

  “Would look a bit weird if he was hanging off your neck.”

  “He looks like shit,” it was PFC Reed sticking his head out of the top of the vehicle.

  “Get to the plane and grab my med kit. He needs some blood.”

  “On it,” Reed said, ducking back down and getting the large vehicle rolling.

  “Over land?” Tough to tell if I was asking about the major or a mode of travel. Then I even lost why I’d asked and just kept letting the word or words roll off my tongue, repeatedly, to the point Winters threatened to give me another shot so I would shut up. “Overrr…llland,” I got out one more time.

  “After I fix you up and check on the hostile, I figure I’m going to have to work on sewing up Baggelli’s new asshole.”

  Usually I’d find that humorous because I have the intellectual level of a fifth-grader but right now, it was ratcheted up to funniest fucking thing ever.

  “Sir, I can’t work on you if you’re laughing.”

  “Give me another shot.”

  “As if.” BT was again next to me. “Anyone gets more morphine, it’s going to me for having to deal with you.”

  “Blood type?” Winters asked.

  “Yup,” I told him.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Tommy hovered around and gave information when needed.

  Reed was back quick, or else I was too busy watching clouds move; either way, in what seemed like seconds, BT was next to me, an IV connecting our arms as I was getting my fluids topped off.

  “I’m counting this as a save,” BT said.

  “You think his blood is as big as the rest of him?” I asked Winters.

  “It’ll be all right,” he responded.

  “I mean, what if his red b
lood cells are pushing up against the walls of my veins and arteries, stretching them out?”

  “Can’t you make him shut up? He’s harshing my heroics here,” BT said.

  “I wouldn’t mind if both of you kept quiet.” Winters had moved over to Bo, who, coincidentally enough, was about the same color as the sky I was gazing up into.

  “He going to live?” Major Overland was off to my side.

  “Going to be out of this mission, but I think he’ll be fine,” Winters told him.

  “Not the brightest thing you could have done, Lieutenant,” Overland said, looking down at me.

  “Watching the plane get shot up would have been worse,” I told him.

  “Just a fucking plane, Talbot. Haven’t come across a piece of machinery yet I’d trade a life for.”

  “I think he’s going to take me out to dinner,” I told BT.

  “Glad you’re doing better, Lieutenant. Sergeant Winters, I’d like to get him back into the plane and get the original mission completed.”

  “I’d like to still go,” BT said.

  Overland looked from BT to Winters.

  “As soon as I unplug him, sir, he should be good to go,” Winters replied.

  “Make sure he gets cookies,” I piped up. “No one wants a hangry BT. BT smash.” I tried to move my arms in the traditional Hulk posture, but it was safe to say I was too fucked up.

  “It’s too bad we can’t transfer some brains to him this way.” BT held up his arm to point at the blood line connecting us.

  “If this makes us brothers, you may want to reconsider with whom you’re having relations,” I told him.

  Stenzel had come back in time to hear that one. “Glad to see you’re feeling better. We’ve got a stretcher, sir. Going to get you back on the plane.”

  “First class or I’m not going.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Five minutes later, I was on the plane and about ready to call it a day. “Stay safe; keep the squad safe,” I told BT, who had grabbed my hand.

  He nodded.

  “Stenzel, lock her up,” BT said, nodding toward Deneaux.

  In ten we were back in the air and heading to our secondary airfield. I dozed during what amounted to a ten-minute flight. When I came to, it was quiet, and from where I lay, it looked like just myself and Deneaux.