The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) (33 page)

              In the wake of lunacy, I find myself in doubt, of my decisions and of our chances. Continuing on our journey would appear to be a foolish and naive choice. However, we have come so far, and we would never make it back to the cabin before snow fall. We are deep into the dying lands, where the dead roam predominately, seeking this Mythical Federation without any other alternative. All of us pray, now more than before. We pray that we find our GFS, and avoid further contact with Living Derelicts.

             
The Kennebec Tactical Containment Unit was what we perceived to be our saving grace, our own militarized escort to Fort Rockland. Mia, Heather, the boy, and myself found ourselves in the middle of a strategic viral cleansing. An assault on a once small town, now nothing more than an ancient ruin, overrun with the dead. Our decision to enter its borders was by necessity, and not choice. Supplies are desperately low, and from a distance, the streets appeared abandoned.

             
The cold air only amplified the echoes of our footsteps as we strolled down Main Street, peering through both shattered and intact windows, looking for anything and everything. Our inquest was far from useless, and revealed a few items that would surely come in handy. Heather discovered a dozen pristine tins of sardines hidden away in an abandoned, make-shift shanty. The boy found an old multi-tool pocket knife, and I myself raided an all but untouched Gun Store, primarily ammunition since we already had the artillery. The shop even provided me with other essentials, thankfully an assortment of hunting clothes to help with the looming winter. Taking as much as I could pack away or carry, leaving the rest of others who may pass by.

             
Satisfied with my loot, I turned to exit the store only to catch a glimpse of what I presume to be the store owner. Sitting lifelessly inside a cramped changing room, his head all but completely blown away. Another victim of this mad – mad world, a man with the courage to renounce life. And with a quick nod to the fallen I exited the store, and saw that alarming grimace on the faces of the others. That all too familiar look, no thought process, no animated emotion what so ever. Just a frozen countenance of unavoidable fear. Too aghast to even breath, or more importantly seek shelter. It was enough to entice my concern, and silenced my calls to them. In hesitation I turned, slowly peering down the street, afraid of what I might - and did - find.

             
Necrotic's, maybe a baker's dozen, stumbled from a side-street and out into our own. It was apparent that this was only the front-line of a larger wave still hidden from behind the crumbling buildings. Pre-Slugs, only slightly succumbing to nature’s bitter cold, still in full feeding mode. They wandered in a daze, not yet picking up on our scent, or the sounds of our heavy hearts. Quietly, yet sternly I ushered the others to get out of the street.

             
“PSSST! Mia! Heather! Get in the store!” I harshly whispered.

             
There was only a moment of pause before Heather snatched up little Marky’s hand and rushed over to me, Mia following suit. We funneled into the store, being sure to lock the dusty glass door behind us. Although the large windows were still in one piece, they would provide little protection from the smashing hands of the dead. The store however, was thankfully dark and cluttered, providing us with a perfect hiding spot. Quickly we ducked down behind the counter, out of sight of the swarming horde.

             
“Keep quiet, sit still.” I stammered. “They should move off in an hour or so.”

             
So I hoped, but as the hours passed and the streets continued fill, I became concerned that this herd was aware of our presence. Something, however, prevented them from pinpointing our refuge. In undying patients they awaited for us to make a mistake, to expose ourselves. I leered at the others, silently demanding that they do not sneeze, nor cough. But, they all knew the score as well as me, and we waited while holding desperately to every other breath.

             
By late afternoon, the passive brood began to show some life, gradually becoming antsy and more aggressive. They searched with greater intent, peering in the windows, and randomly snarling and snapping at one another. Their agitation bled through those dusty windows like undeterred sunlight shining upon us. The boy had begun to shake and I could see the corners of his eyes welling. His growing panic would surely be the end of us, I knew then that our out-of-sight strategy was no longer advantageous.

             
With purpose I began unpacking my weapons, ensuring everyone was loaded to capacity and gesturing for Heather to do the same. As before with my decent into this madness, I planned out a rear escape, blasting through the alleyways if need be. I had to assume we were surrounded, yet hoped the narrow corridor out-back was less crowded than the street out front.

             
Before now, although quiet aware of her shooting skills, only I had handled the weapons. However we would need every capable body if we were to escape, and reluctantly I handed over the shot-gun to Mia. She grabbed hold of it without dawdling, and threw me a confident and brave nod of understanding. As if to say, “I got this.” No longer is she the child I first perceived, and her courageousness barely overshadows my own pride in her.

             
For a moment, it seemed that time had stopped as I stared back into those jade eyes, lost in both admiration and infatuation. Then, I pulled her close, pressing my lips against the soft thin flesh of her own. Holding her tight, and not wanting to ever let go. But, as many times before, I was forced to release her. The abrupt ferocity of the screeching dead dispersed what was to be our last moments together. And without command, we all jumped to our feet, guns drawn, and ready to blast the ensuing damned as we made our way to the back.

             
Too our surprise, their attention was not on the Gun-Shop, but up onto the roof of an adjacent building. Then the cracks of thunder arose over their amassing snarls, and one by one their heads exploding as a shower of bullets was unleashed. We didn't know what to think, and we did not ponder it, instead we joined in. Our round smashed through the fragile glass windows and pummeled into the unsuspecting dead. And slowly, but surely, the engrossing horde began to dwindle.

             
The massacre was brief and exact, although we managed to drop those just in front of the store windows, the others were laid to waste from the barrage from above. When the thunderous claps diminished, there was a moment of silence, we knew not what was to come. Mia slid closer to me, even in her moment of bravery, she still felt safer by my side. All I could do was smile, ecstatic we were still breathing, unconcerned with the shouting which soon rose from outside.

             
“All Clear!” Called out multiple voices.

             
“Regroup in the street, stat!” Shouted another, more commanding voice.

             
Slowly I walked out from behind the counter and towards the demolished doorway. Mia stuck close by me, and Heather followed slowly behind. As we stepped out onto the side-walk we were immediately stopped by a small group of soldiers, their automatic weapons swiftly and with discipline raised towards us. In response, ours rose as well, each of us taking aim in defense.

             
“Drop your weapons!” One cried out.

             
“Put the fucking gun down!” Another declared.

             
“Lower yours!” I naively stammered.

             
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as each of us stared down each other’s barrel. An unmatched stand-off at its best. Four highly trained soldiers against two jumpy woman and myself. I had to dissolve the situation, but there was no way I was about to give up our guns. There was no telling who these men were, or who they worked for, if anybody.

             
“United States Marines, civilian!” Announced an unforeseen voice from the rooftop. “Lower your weapons, we are here to help.”

             
Glancing up, a large, scarred faced grunt stood at the edge of the roof. His gun hung placidly to his side, and a fat cigar hugged firmly in his lips. He nodded to the others, who thankfully lowered their own weapons. I myself was hesitant to withdraw, yet Heather was overly confident in our new found friends. Instantly she stuffed her revolver into her pants and approached one of the soldiers, hugging and kissing him on the cheek.

             
“Thank God you found us!” She cried out.

             
Slowly, I lowered by rifle, Mia lowering her own only after taking my queue. I was still uneasy about the situation, about these strangers before us. However, the men did don full military battle dress, and although worn and frayed, the Marine Insignia. But, there was still something unnerving about them, something just did not make sense. Why refer to themselves as the United States Marines, why not the GFS Marines. Or GFS Security Force. There was something not right.

             
Soon, the commanding officer had made his way off of the roof and joined his unit. Casually he walked by his men, patting them on the back before making is way towards me. My hand gripped tightly onto my rifle, and it took everything in me to hold back the urge to raise it towards him. Then, his hand shot out in front of him to take hold of mine. The gesture eased my concerns, but only slightly.

             
“Lieutenant Jaxson A Masters, KTCU Marines.” He introduced himself.

             
“KTCU?” I questioned, without any introduction of my own.

             
“Kennebec Tactical Containment Unit.”

             
“Only five men? Kind of small for a military unit.”

             
There was a moment of silence. He could sense my suspicion and appeared annoyed at my lack of manners. He was a younger fellow, maybe mid-twenties, scarred and battered from years of conflicts. Heather, as well, saw my suspicion, but attempted to ease it by probing the Lieutenant for more information. Swiftly I cast a glare of contempt at her, but she was right, my distrust would only lead to more conflict.

             
“Are you with the GFS?” She asked.

             
“GFS? Never heard of it.” The lieutenant answered, still staring into my eyes and holding tight to my hand. “We were dispatched to this area about four years ago. There was fifteen of us then, we are all that is left.” He said with a smirk as he released my hand and pulled the smoldering stogy from his lips. His seriousness faded and he relaxed a bit as he turned to introduce the others.

             
“Over there is Corporal Lachance, next to him Staff Sargent Esgrow, and the overly tanned fellow to the right is Private Pinetti.” He said with a chuckle. Although pale, Pinetti was obviously of African-American descent, and obviously annoyed with his commanders phrasing. The private rolled his eyes while stepping back out of the spotlight. The Lieutenant then turned to the last and final soldier. A scrawny, even younger man, maybe only twenty, twenty-one if he was lucky. He too was but a child when this curse struck.

             
“And this little spit-fuck is Private First Class Sawyer, careful though, he has a bit of a temper.” He said with a slight sneer. Again, I ignored his introductions and pressed him further.

             
“What was your mission?” I asked, and he looked back into my eyes with irritation.

             
“Operation Cleanse and Secure. We were to take back this county one town at a time. It's been rough, but so far we have a good twelve mile radius annexed. This town here will add another six miles.”

             
“Four years, no communications, I'd say your mission is a failure?” I pressed further.

             
“Orders are orders, Civilian. We were told to hold Kennebec County until reinforcements arrive. That's our Mission. And we will accomplish it or die trying.” He said sternly, just as heather once again butted in.

             
“We hoped you were part of the GFS survivor’s colony. That is where we are headed.” She said.

             
“Survivors colony!” Sawyer spewed out, “Ain't nothing like that around here. Last safe-zone we heard of was in Vermont. But I doubt it is still there.”

             
Masters never once took his eyes off mine, we glared in mistrust at each other for what seemed like an eternity. It was plausible that my concerns were premature, just maybe they are dedicated grunts. Unwillingly to give up and retreat. Still holding out for the idea of America to return to them. And still, with the territory they presume to control, they have never heard or seen the leaflets of the GFS? None of it made sense, and was far from believable. They were hiding something.

             
“Where are our manners? How about you and the others stay the night with us. We have a secured location not far from here, and plenty of food to go around.” He offered, then turned too little Marky who still huddled behind his mother. “Especially this young man, he looks like he could use some food.”