Trudge: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (21 page)

Shifting his aim to just below and behind the man’s left eye, Cade adjusted for elevation and windage. He relaxed his breathing,
this one’s for you Rawley
, he gently caressed the trigger. The suppressed rifle coughed once, it was a perfect head shot, and the waste of skin fell atop the minigun, the top half of his head nonexistent, leaving only his bushy black beard and jawbone still attached at the neck.

The four other men fell to the ground, desperately looking in all directions for the shooter. Cade smirked as the fat man hid behind his green canvas camp chair.
Peek-a-boo asshole, this one’s for Leo.
The .308 Lapua round went through the makeshift fabric shield and shattered the man’s sternum before lodging in his heart killing him instantly.

Shocked and in total disbelief Jerrod slowly commando crawled under the nearest trailer. He didn’t want to be the next victim of the unseen shooter. Shaking off the little buzz the beer had given him he shimmied out from under cover and quickly snared the SKS by the sling and launched himself into the underbrush, then patiently crawled away from the slaughter.

Cade chambered another round and watched the remaining three men low crawl, attempting to take cover near the Humvees front bumper. Cade saw the terror evident on the man’s face magnified through the scope. The bullet impacted above his upper lip and proceeded upward into his nasal cavity. The velocity of the round peeled his face away from the skull, rendering him unrecognizable. The man cowering near him was showered with human detritus. One shot one kill is the snipers motto and so far Cade was living up to it. It almost wasn’t fair. The grown man was visibly sobbing, his body heaved up and down as he struggled for air. The balding spot, on the crown of the man’s head is where the cross hairs rested. Cade mouthed the words, “And this one’s for you Sheila” as he sent the man to hell.

The youngest of the four men that had been drinking beers around the cooler was the only one left. Cade had no idea where he went, but he knew that he wouldn’t stray far.

Ever so slowly he backed down from the slight berm that he had set up his over watch behind. The sagebrush concealed him from any eyes below as he patiently disassembled the sniper rifle, first folding the stock and then removing the suppressor. It was a hunch, but he had a strong feeling that the kid would fall back and hide out, waiting for his friends to return.

*****

What have I gotten myself into now?
Jerrod thought as he slowly tried to flank the shooter. He had a strong feeling that the sniper must have been on the hill facing the circle of trailers. There was no way the headshot that took out Trask could have come from the trees behind them.

*****

There was a shuffling sound, followed by the sharp snap of a twig, Cade bent to one knee and swept his M4 towards the sound. Slowly scanning his surroundings, he perceived movement at his eleven o’clock. The young man crept into view; he was a rookie and didn’t use any of the available cover to his advantage. Suddenly he went to ground and low crawled through some underbrush.
He is pretty brave or just plain stupid trying to out sneak a sniper
. He let the kid get comfortable and then silently approached from behind with the M4 at the ready. Rawley’s SKS was in the kid’s possession; this was going to have to be handled quietly, up close and personal.

*****

Jerrod was hyperventilating, just like he did when he played paintball with his buddies back at the compound. This was for real and he tried to calm down but he couldn’t, he could hear his blood rushing in his head and feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest. It was like this the first time he had sex a couple of days ago. He didn’t want to, but everyone else had raped her already and it happened to be his turn. The other guys heckled and cajoled. It didn’t take much though. She looked at him with those dead eyes, silently pleading to get it over with and leave. Jerrod unbuckled his pants and found that he was ready. It lasted fifteen seconds, but he stayed in the trailer for another ten minutes lying next to the red headed woman, not ashamed at what he had done but at how quick it was. The last time, earlier today before the ambush, was better because he lasted a little longer and actually got it in before he ejaculated; she gave him a smart ass smile that made him lose it. He punched and kicked her until somebody came in and pulled him away. He had beaten her badly,
bitch had it coming too.
Deep in thought, with a dull throbbing in his groin was how he died, the ten inch Gerber carved him ear to ear, severing his carotid artery and slicing through his trachea and vertebrae, nearly severing his head. Cade stabbed the dagger in the dirt, stared deep into the dying man’s eyes and watched the life ebb from him. Cade cleaned his knife on the kid’s fatigues and repossessed Rawley’s prized SKS before descending on the quiet camp.

The Humvees bore markings of the Oregon National Guard and had bullet holes pockmarking the Kevlar bodies. It was evident that the bandits had overtaken a military convoy or checkpoint somewhere and stolen the vehicles, uniforms, weapons and explosives. The latter they had been using to make their roadside bombs. Cade found three pounds of C4 plastic explosives as well as the radio frequency detonators and remotes needed to set off the charges. The Guardsmen may have been engineers sent to drop the bridges on the border and possibly set up a checkpoint. If that were the case, then drastic measures were being undertaken to slow the pathogens rapid spread.

Wasting no time, he went about setting five half pound C4 charges. One was affixed to each propane tank on the four travel trailers; he buried the last brick of C4 and placed the cooler over the disturbed soil.

Each C4 block had a radio frequency detonator embedded in the soft putty surface. They all worked on the same frequency and would detonate at the same time. One push of the button on the small plastic remote would unleash hell on anyone in the vicinity. Cade made certain the devices were armed and put the little black box in the cargo pocket of his BDUs.

Cade was in the act of placing the dead bodies around the cooler when he heard the distinctive sound of Harley Davidsons…a lot of them. Luckily for him the road leading to the campsite was potholed enough to slow their approach. He knifed his way through the brush keeping a low profile. Given all of the engine noise, Cade didn’t need to worry about stealth. He made it back to his hide before the bad guys arrived. The bikers dismounted and gawked at the three dead men.  Cade had hastily arranged them on the folding camp chairs around the booby trapped cooler. In death they appeared to be shooting the breeze over beers.

A large number of the Nomad Jesters were crowded around the seated dead men when Cade remotely detonated the charges. There was an initial ear splitting “Whoomph”. Cade burrowed face-first into the fine silt, his head was protected by the tactical helmet.  The immense heat from the exploding propane tanks warmed his back. Now secondary explosions boomed. The two Humvees were fully engulfed. The ammo onboard started cooking off. The steady pop, pop, pop of various calibers of bullets discharging filled the air. Every trailer down below was now in the process of becoming a molten pool of aluminum. The propane tanks were of the larger variety and added more fuel to the fire. It was no surprise that no pleas for help or screams came from ground zero. Burning bodies and body parts were strewn everywhere. The human toll appeared to be immense. He had no remorse for the biker’s “old ladies”. Cade considered anyone associated with this crew to be less than human; even though he hadn’t seen the big red heads demise, he was satisfied. Whoever had said that “revenge was a dish best served cold” hadn’t seen an inferno like this. Cade watched the flames lick towards the row of fallen motorcycles; they had been knocked down like dominos from the blast. One by one the bikes caught fire. The heat from the flames warmed his face even at this distance. Cade thought about Harry and Duncan; they were probably beside themselves wondering what was happening.

The radio was on the lowest volume setting so he turned it up a notch.

“Come in, come in. Are you there Cade?”

It was Harry’s voice.

Click, Click, was Cades response. He policed up his pack and weapon and then took a different route back to the two men waiting for him.

*****

His leather jacket was starting to catch fire when the man came to. He knew that the “pops” that he was hearing weren’t due to enemy gunfire; still he kept his head down as he crawled away from the immolated Humvees, lest a stray bullet do what the booby trapped camp failed to. Richard Ganz was blessed that he had to piss when he did. Several of his lieutenants also stopped to provide security. He was a survivor and always would be, save for a few bruises and a wicked headache he was unscathed. Richard Ganz swore to himself that he would track down the son of a bitch that took out his second in command and most of his foot soldiers, if it killed him. The giant red head wasted no time; he started barking out orders to his surviving underlings.

Chapter 34

Day 2 Detour around Fayetteville, North Carolina

Carl was getting used to the basics of driving the race tuned production truck. It was borderline dangerous how fast he could drive the thing while off road and still feel in total control. They had made the decision to take a hundred mile detour around Fayetteville to avoid the majority of the traffic and the growing number of undead.

The route took them west and then north. Route 1 sliced through a rustic town, a green sign at the entrance read “Aberdeen founded in 1893. Pop. 3900” it appeared that nearly all were not of the living, breathing variety. They passed the old train station that was now a tourist site. A static red caboose sat on the grounds. Stranded on the roof of the train car was a blonde boy, his arms waving frantically. He was dressed in shorts and tank top and appeared badly sunburned. Undead were crowding around the wheels of the converted caboose, reaching upward towards him.

Raven noticed the boy first and elbowed her mom, while wildly pointing in his direction.

“Look Mom, look on top of the red train. We need to help him. Uncle Carl, stop…”

“We can’t risk all of our lives for a stranger, sweetie” he said looking past Brook at his niece.

Grimacing at the site of Carl’s wrecked face, Brook said, “Put yourself in that boys shoes Carl…” her voice trailing off, her eyes boring into his.

“Sis…you always did bring home the strays.”

“Come on Carl. It’s two against one. Turn this beast around.”

Raven added, “he really needs our help. Come on Uncle Carl.” She could have talked her way into Disneyland with the look she gave him.

Slightly crestfallen, Carl maneuvered the orange Raptor back towards the tourist trap. Dirt, gravel and rocks spewing from the tires, pelted the small group of walkers. They didn’t flinch or seem affected in the least.

The boy was pacing back and forth from one end of the caboose to the other. It was a large train car that housed a gift shop and snack bar.

“That roof is at least fifteen feet from the ground. The little guy would probably get hurt from the fall or pounced on by those monsters the minute he hit the ground” Carl said.

“Then we need to lure as many of the dead away from the boy that we can and double back and somehow get him to jump into the truck bed” Brook said, seeming to want to stay in the middle of the action.

Carl aimed the trucks brush guard at the zombies and turned on the trucks stereo, he scanned the FM stations finding nothing. Next he tried the AM stations, still nothing then he punched the CD button hoping that a disc had been left in the changer. After a brief pause, four long drawn out tolls of a church bell spit forth from the ten speaker system, followed by AC/DCs heavy metal song Hells Bells. That got the undivided attention of the undead; they nearly broke their necks trying to locate the source of the music.

The railway museum on the far side of the gravel parking lot began to disgorge more of the ghouls; they were attracted to the new meat in the noisy vehicle.

A portly walker, stomach bloated and distended, entered the trucks path and was promptly introduced to the bumper. Like a pudgy bowling ball the zombie bounced and rolled, knocking down three other walkers in the process, finally stopping face down in the dusty gravel. Carl whirled the truck into a complete one eighty, and for good measure, took the opportunity to drive over all of them.

Brook had ahold of the grab handle on the roof as the trucks suspension absorbed the bodies. Raven had nothing to hang onto and bounced around the interior like a rag doll. Brook powered down her window and started hooting and hollering at the walkers, further enticing them to follow.

They hesitated long enough to let some of the undead get tantalizingly close, and then Carl gunned the truck forward a few more feet. It proved to be a smelly game of cat and mouse but it was working. The stink was becoming unbearable with the windows down. Pinching her nose to ward off the stench, Raven joined in on the chorus of catcalls. The orange Ford Raptor acted like a rolling Pied Piper, leading the rotting stinking corpses away from the kid on the roof.

 All of the solitary walkers that got in the way were promptly mowed over. Carl charged through a particularly large group of the creatures with the truck, it proved to be too much and a number of them became wedged underneath.

“Oh no. Please shake loose…come on!”