The Reckoning - 02 (45 page)

             
They had erected makeshift cages in this room and they were full of people. There were a few men, but it was mostly women. The men and women were in separate cages. Without any fear of the law, these
Freemen
had grabbed female survivors for their own pleasure. All of them were young and attractive. I was guessing that they had either abandoned or killed anyone that didn’t make their list. I could only guess why they had kept some of the men. Whatever there reason was I’m sure it wasn’t good.

             
I did a quick headcount and discovered that there were over fifty survivors that were being held. None of them appeared injured, but I’m sure that they hadn’t been treated well. The fact that they were all in cages gave testament to that. As I approached the door of the first cage, the women inside cringed back from the door.

             
“Please, mister,” pleaded a young blonde. “Don’t hurt us.”

             
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I assured her. “I’m with the Sheriff’s Office.”

             
I pointed at the badge on my chest. I could see a few faces light up with smiles, but more than a few looked skeptical. I couldn’t blame them. I’m sure that trust was not going to come easy with this group. No doubt, they’d all been prisoners of the
Freemen
since the outbreak of the zombie plague. I knew that it couldn’t have been easy on them.

             
“Are you here to rescue us?” asked a young Oriental girl.

             
She looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen, although I’ve never been very good at guessing the ages of women. However old she was, it was too young for what she’d been put through. If half of what I suspected was true, there was no age that should have to endure it. The
Freemen
were as close to pure evil that I had ever experienced in all my years as a Corrections Officer.

             
I hesitated for a moment before I answered. Part of me knew full-well that there just weren’t enough of us to mount a rescue of this scale. Not to mention we didn’t have any vehicles that we could use to transport them. I also knew that there was absolutely no way I could leave them behind while I was still drawing breath. The All-Father had led me here. I would trust that we would find what we needed along the way.

             
“Yes, we are,” I replied. “It’s time to get you out of here.”

             
“You’re crazy,” whispered the First Sergeant. “You know that?”

             
“It’s been said before,” I replied, grinning.

             
“If you pull this off,” he said, “I’ll buy you a drink and lift a glass to you.”

             
“I won’t leave them behind,” I said, meeting his gaze.

             
In lieu of a response, he just nodded and started working on the lock to the next cage. I pulled out my hammer and smashed the padlock off of the door to the one in front of me. Moments later, we had all of them open and were ushering the people out into the main room. As we were forming them up into groups, Corporal Jackson ran over to me and the First Sergeant.

             
“Top,” he said, “we’ve got contact.”

             
“How many?” he asked.

             
“About a dozen approaching from the main tunnel,” replied Jackson.

             
“Have they seen us?” I asked.

             
“Negative, sir,” he replied. “Their weapons are all slung over their shoulders. No one’s moving tactically or taking cover. I think they just returned from somewhere.”

             
I motioned for everyone to get into positions. With the six of us behind cover and making a surprise attack, I didn’t see any way that they could stop us. We waited until they came into the light of the big room and we opened fire. It was over in seconds. Not one of the
Freemen
had even managed to get off a shot before we took them all down.

             
McDonald, Jackson and Ramirez recovered their weapons and left the bodies where they lay. I turned to the crowd of survivors and waved at them to get their attention.

             
“Do any of you know how to fire a weapon?” I asked.

             
Of the fifty or so that were assembled, only three raised their hands, one male and two females. I motioned for them to come over to me. When they complied, I took off a little ways away from the others.

             
“Tell me what kind of weapons you’re familiar with?” I asked.

             
“I was in the Army Reserves,” said a dark-haired woman.

             
She looked to be in her mid-twenties.

             
“Good,” I said, and tossed her an M-4.

             
She caught it and looked it over before checking the magazine and chamber. Yeah, she was going to do just fine. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the other two.

             
“I used to hunt with my dad and my brothers,” said the other girl.

             
She looked like she was at least part Native American.

             
“First Nations?” I asked her, curiously.

             
“Yeah,” she said.

             
“What tribe are you from?”

             
“My mother was Cherokee and my father is Sioux,” she replied, smiling proudly.

             
“Do you think you can handle an assault rifle?” I asked.

             
“I have my own AR-15 that I hunt with,” she replied. “My dad bought it for me for my 16
th
birthday.”

             
“Close enough,” I said, and handed her another M-4. “Keep it on safe or semi-auto until one of us gets the chance to teach you how to use the auto.”

             
“OK,” she answered, taking her weapon and checking the safety.

             
“I’m pretty good with a pistol,” said the young man. “I used to target practice every week at the indoor range at Bass Pro. I worked there as a stocker.”

             
He was about average height with blonde hair and glasses.

             
“Revolver or automatic?” I asked.

             
“Automatics,” he replied. “I never liked revolvers.”

             
I dug out one of the pistols that we’d taken and handed it to him. It was a Rock Island .45. I also handed him three extra magazines. He took them and stuck them in his pockets. The pistol went into his waistband. I handed both of the girls a few extra magazines for their rifles.

             
“OK, listen up,” I said. “I don’t want you using those unless I tell you to. No offense, but I don’t know how good a shot you are. I also don’t know you well enough to trust you behind me with a firearm. Just follow us and if we run into trouble, we’ll all have to be ready to fight.”

             
“Where’s the rest of your team?” asked the Native girl.

             
“We’re it,” I said. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll all introduce ourselves, later.”

             
We quickly checked the other room that had been guarded. Just as I suspected, it was where they were storing all of their weapons. There was hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition and boxes of explosives, plus dozens of missiles. It was the mother lode. As bad as I hated to do it, I instructed Ramirez to rig them to blow and time it as close to the other explosions as possible. He set to work immediately.

             
By the time he finished, we had organized the survivors into groups and assigned a fire team to escort them. I paired each of the armed kids with a Ranger. I knew that they would be safe with them, since they were the most experienced in combat operations. It was the best I could do, under the circumstances. It was better than nothing, I suppose.

W
e headed down the passage that the
Freemen
had been coming down. Spec-4 and I took point. After we’d gone about fifty yards, I started to see light. This wasn’t artificial light from the floodlights. I could tell what I was seeing was daylight. We were almost out of the cave.

             
When we reached the last bend in the tunnel, I could see the steel cage that the parks board had welded in place over the entrance to the cave to keep people out. Now it had the added effect of keeping zombies out, as well. There were four guards at the gate and we made short work of them. It was easier because they weren’t looking behind them. They were watching the entrance.

             
We quickly recovered their weapons and unlocked the gate. Ramirez planted his last charge on the gate, just to finish the job. Then we were out in the sunshine. I could tell by the position of the sun in the sky that it was going to be dark soon. There was a narrow ravine that ran to the mouth of the cave from a small pond. I recognized the area. We’d made it to Doling Park.

Just beyond the ravine were several parked vehicles. Two of them were what Sanders had dubbed “jingle trucks”
and one was an old school bus. Then I saw something that made me smile. It was the Nathanael County Mobile Command Center. It was a modified motor coach that was equipped to run sheriff’s department operations from the field. It had a repeater for the radios, a generator and its own camera system. It wasn’t big enough to hold everyone, but between it and the school bus we could get everyone back to the Underground.

We split the people between the two vehicles and loaded up.
I took the wheel of the mobile command center and Sergeant McDonald took the school bus. We fired up the engines and let them warm up for a moment. Spec-4 stood beside me and smiled.

“I thought that there would be more of them,” she said.

“I counted bedrolls for close to a hundred,” I said. “We got lucky. The majority of them were out on runs. If they had all been there, we’d have never made it out.”

“Do you think they’ll know it was us that hit them?” she asked, worried.

“Who else could it have been?” I replied. “They know we’re the only other group out there, so far as we know.”

I
put the thing in gear and headed out of the park. I crashed through the makeshift fence that the
Freemen
had erected around most of the park to keep the zombies out. The school bus stayed right behind me as we headed south and away from the park. I knew I had one more stop to make before we returned to the Underground.

The sun was three fingers above the horizon and I knew that meant we had about three hours of daylight left. That would be plenty of time for what I had in mind. Sticking to the back streets, we returned to the campus of
Central High School to reclaim our Humvee. When we passed the jail, I could see the extent of the damage from the bombing. It was a total loss. The entire building had collapsed under the onslaught.

Ramirez and Jackson grabbed the Humvee and led the way back to the Underground. We stuck to roads that we knew were clear and avoided any place we thought that the
Freemen
might be raiding. It was 1730 hours according to my watch when we rolled up to the gate. Minutes later, we rolled back into the shelter of the Underground and parked alongside the other vehicles.

We were met by a large crowd. Medical was going to have its hands full checking all of the new arrivals.
When everyone was unloaded, I stopped long enough to grab a cup of coffee. Just as I was taking my first sip, Ramirez came over to me with a big smile on his face.

             
“What’s up?” I asked, as he approached.

             
“We might want to go up topside for a few minutes,” he said. “By my watch, the explosives should be going off in about five minutes.”

             
I headed up the ramp, with Spec-4 and the Rangers following me. We were all still wearing our combat gear. When we reached the top and could see the sky I turned to the North West, facing the park.

             
“It’s almost boom time,” I said, as the others gathered around me.

             
We watched as the sun sank lower in the sky. A few moments later, I heard the explosions and felt the ground shake slightly. The roar was somewhat muted for having been below ground, but grew louder when the missiles and ammunition cooked off. I only hoped that the
Freemen
had all been back inside when it happened.

             
“Do you think we got them all?” asked Spec-4.

             
“We’d better hope so,” I replied. “Otherwise, there’s going to be hell to pay.”