Ghosts: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (34 page)

Before stepping back inside Cade looked over the fire
escape’s safety railing and saw the Zs trickling in from three points of the
compass.
Mission accomplished
, he thought as he turned and pulled the
door behind him, nearly squashing the tabby underfoot. He paused for a second
in thought and then cracked the door a few more inches and set the furry
survivor free.

“Operation Wrinkle enacted,” said Cross, tongue-in-cheek,
over the comms. “Heading back to 610.”

Cade was already at the Great Wall of furniture with the
satellite phone out and finishing up the latter of two text messages. He said,
“Roger that. I’ll get the sheets for the litter.” He finished tapping out the
rest of the message and hit the green button, sending it up into space. Then he
collected an armful of sheets from a nearby vacated room and hurried back to
610.

***

After picking their way past the dead girl in the east
stairwell the team spent ten minutes at the bottom behind the closed door
breathing in the cool, carrion-scented air while they waited for the all clear
from Jedi One-One so they could make a run for it.

During that time the medicine flowing into Nadia’s vein and
being absorbed into her system was having the desired effect. A little of her
normal color had returned and she had become talkative.

In the time it took Cade to check his weapons and cinch up
his pack he learned from Nadia that the Brian whom she had asked about was her
twenty-year-old boyfriend. After finding out that there was no way for them to
get to the FEMA facility at Terminal Island they had to run a gauntlet of
undead and looters just to get back here. Their food ran out three weeks ago
and Brian started going outside to look for more. Then, choking back tears, she
said he went out ten days ago and came back with only a meager amount of food
and water with a fresh bite wound on his forearm. And then the tears really
flowed and her sobs echoed in the stairwell as she recounted how, to keep from
turning in her presence, he left on his own power and she hadn’t seen him
since.

***

Still waiting for the
‘Go’
call from the chopper,
Lopez asked, “What did you do then?”

“Ate the food sparingly but didn’t do well rationing out the
water,” she said, eyes red and watery. “Then four days ago I started drinking
my own pee.”

“You did what you had to do. Hell, you were at death’s
door,” said Griffin as he discarded the partial and attached a fresh bag of the
same solution to the IV line. “And the Pale Rider was just about to usher you
in.”

Changing the subject, Lopez said, “Your mom will be so happy
to see you. She moved heaven and—” he paused mid-sentence and listened as a
call came in over the comms. He squeezed Nadia’s shoulder, gently. “I’ll finish
the story for you later. Our freedom bird awaits.”

Cade said, “Lock and load,” and lowered his M4 and
shouldered the door open.

Handing Brook another of the plastic gas cans, Chief said,
“That’s the last of them.” He took the empty from her and added, “I noticed you
took your time bandaging yourself up. And then filling the truck when you know
that it has a pair of reserve tanks. I think you’re stalling. Even if for a
minute or five ... you’re consciously or subconsciously delaying the
inevitable.”

Sticking the flexible spout into the truck’s filler neck,
Brook said, “What do you mean?”

“We’re going to have to move that camo rig and the bodies if
we’re going any farther south ... and Jenkins will have to be moved off the
road.”

Wilson tossed an empty gas can into the Raptor’s bed and
said, “We should take him back and bury him with the others.”

“Who’s going to do
that
?” said Sasha.

“I will,” replied Wilson.

With no hesitation, Taryn said, “I’ll help you.”

Kicking a pebble off the road with her toe, Sasha looked up
and said with a measure of reluctance, “I can help too.”

“Sis is growing a pair,” Wilson said. He hugged Sasha around
the shoulder and started walking her towards the passenger doors. Along the way
he added, “Let’s get going before she has second thoughts.”

With a welling sense of pride, Brook watched the exchange
take place. Then she rattled the upside down can, getting every last drop into
the Ford’s tank. Looked around and called for Max in a low voice. A second
later the Shepherd bolted from the tall grass where Chief had been prone and
shooting from earlier and launched himself up and into the F-650 through the
open passenger door.

Chief climbed into the truck and said to Brook, “I’ll put
the Bronco ... or whatever that camouflage thing is into neutral and you use
this rig to push it out of the way.”

Brook tossed the empty can in back and twisted the gas cap
closed. Slammed the filler door shut. Climbing behind the wheel, she said,
“Works for me. But don’t think I’m trying to get out of helping with the
bodies.” She thought:
Least I can do since I killed the kid.

As if he were reading her mind at that moment, Chief said,
“Don’t beat yourself up about the young man. He shot at us first and deserved
what he got.”

Brook turned the key, cranking the motor to life. Her hand
went to the blood-dampened swatch of gauze taped over the gashes on her
forehead. She said, “Bleeding out on a lonely stretch of highway is a pretty
lopsided tradeoff for a couple of lead fragments to the face.”

Chief threw a visible shudder. He coughed and said, “We reap
what we sow. Don’t we?”

While Cade and Lopez grabbed onto the roll-up gate, the
other two operators lowered Nadia and the thrown-together litter to the ground
and readied their weapons.

The half-dozen die hard flesh-eaters that weren’t fooled by
the twin diversions created by Cade and Cross were gripping the metal links and
growling and hissing at the fresh meat just a yard away from them.

Adding to the hair-raising din of the dead, the strange
harmonic vibrations given off by the stealth helicopter were felt by all and
growing stronger with each passing second.

“On three,” said Cade. He set his pistol near his feet,
began counting and, on three, working together with Lopez, clean-jerked the
gate upward in its tracks.

The resulting clatter seemed to confuse the Zs for a moment.
Two of them, still gripping the gate’s articulated link panel, took a brief
ride upward before the heavy gauge shroud protecting the motor and moving parts
sheared their hands off at the wrists. Oblivious to what would prove to be a
fatal bleed-out event to a living, breathing person, the Zs crashed to the
ground and at once struggled to rise.

No longer held back by the gate, and propelled forward
faster than normal because of the slight grade, the four Zs still on their feet
staggered into the underground garage. Eyes filled with purpose and radiating
an insatiable hunger, like a single-thinking school of piranha, they angled
right and converged on the nearest food source that just so happened to be
Lopez.

On one knee and sighting down the barrel of his stubby MP7,
Cross let loose with two separate three-round-bursts that pulped the pair of
rotters nearest the Delta shooter. Casings were pinging and skittering down the
ramp, and before the decaying bodies hit the ground Griffin was in the fight,
his carbine jumping subtly and silently as he delivered double-taps to the
other two ambulatory corpses.

Meanwhile, Cade had snatched up the suppressed Glock and,
while the struggling Zs were leaving wet kisses of crimson on the cement with
their bloody stumps, he closed the distance and began delivering efficient,
near silent, double-taps of his own.

Propelled by gravity and on a collision course with Nadia,
one of the four Zs taken out by the SEALs started a slow log roll down the
ramp.

Seeing this, Lopez hustled over and planted a boot on the
limp corpse, stopping it rolling, and then waited for Griffin and Cross to get
ahold of the litter.

Lopez said, “Good to go?”

Cross said, “Thanks.”

Lopez hopped over the putrid Z and let gravity finish what
it started.

Two blocks south of the Four Palms, Ari was holding the
Ghost Hawk in a steady hover and watching the parking lot on the monitor
centered on his glass cockpit. Suddenly there was movement in the dark
rectangle and he saw a pair of shadowy forms approach the gate. A second later
the gate was disappearing upward. Then he saw the monsters on the ramp falling
in pairs, six in total, and before he could ask for a sit-rep, the operators
were moving out into the light, two of them carrying a body in a litter.

“One mike,” said Ari calmly into his boom mic. “You’ve got
Zs vectoring in from the north. They’re splitting the building and heading
south along both the east and west side. I’m coming in guns hot then setting
her down near the white compact car in the parking lot.”

Head on a swivel and trying to locate the target vehicle,
Cade answered Ari with a clipped, “Copy that.” In his left side vision he
detected the blur of black swooping in, and like he imagined an anxiety attack
might start, he felt the bass note from the baffled rotor threatening to steal
his breath. But the thought was fleeting because the tearing sound of the
minigun started up and set his ears to ringing.

He located the white Honda at about the same time he saw the
lick of flame and chain of tracers rip into a throng of Zs rounding the
building’s west side. The speeding projectiles cleaved rotted body parts off
the shambling mass, and as quickly as the cacophony started, the gun went quiet
and the chopped-up corpses were sprawled and sullying the sidewalk.

Evidently Doctor Silence wasn’t finished. The Dillon came
alive again above and behind Cade to the east, and for two long seconds as he
ran toward the LZ the sickening sounds of bullets slapping flesh and splintering
bone and hundreds of shell casings pinging off the cars and asphalt seemed to
be following him. But he didn’t look back. He kept pace with Griffin and Cross,
felt rotor wash blasting him from directly overhead, and then breathed in a
lungful of air lightly scented with kerosene.

Cade saw the SEALs place the litter on the asphalt and each
take a knee and place a gloved hand on their helmets. The white Honda was
parked sitting on the periphery of what looked to be eight empty spaces.

Then the helo cut the air overhead and made a high-speed
turn to the right. As it flared and the engine whine ratcheted up, a pair of
footlocker-sized panels opened below the cabin doors and the landing gear
emerged and locked into place.

Cade saw the minigun protruding from its port fore of the
open starboard side cabin door. The wicked death-dealing snout was still
smoking and probing the air in tight little circles, searching for any threats
to the chopper or team.

Cade watched the SEALs rise and hustle toward the helo as it
touched down and bounced lightly on its bulbous tires. Then he turned to cover
Lopez, who had just stopped in his tracks and was looking up at the building,
oblivious of the Zs flanking him from the driveway to the south. The Delta
operator was shielding his eyes against the mirrored glare and pointing at a
person waving a pink towel from a freshly broken-out window four stories up.
Then, to be heard over the rotor wash buffeting all of them, Lopez said loudly
over the comms, “There’s a survivor on the fifth floor.”

With the images of withered geriatrics jumping to their
deaths from the roof of the old folk’s home in Atlanta and then being forced to
loiter while mercy kills were delivered still fresh in his mind, Ari broke in
over the comms and bellowed, “Get your asses into the helo. I have an idea.”

The Delta operators made it to the chopper just as Skipper
let loose another quick burst with the Dillon. With the heat from the
still-whirring barrel warming the right side of his face, Cade hopped aboard
and spun around on one knee. He took one quick glance up at the building and
then grabbed ahold of Lopez’s gloved hand and pulled him aboard. A beat later
Cade was being pressed down by g-forces; his stomach entered his throat and the
ground began falling away rapidly outside the open door.

There was a deafening silence when the minigun stopped
whirring. Cade spun around and planted his backside on his usual seat and felt
the helicopter tilt on axis as it rolled back around towards the building. He
felt a pang of remorse when he glanced at Lasseigne, whose flag-draped body was
still strapped into the seat he died in. The corners of the flag not tucked
under his thighs or between his helmet and the bulkhead fluttered in the
invasive slipstream.

Then over the comms he heard Ari: “
What do you see,
Haynes?”

The other pilot, apparently controlling the FLIR camera and
watching on the glass display, said, “One body. Female. She looks to be alone.
Selecting infrared.” A second passed and anyone looking at a monitor could see,
judging by the reddish yellow glow emanating from the form, that the woman was
a breather and alone in the room.

“We’re all volunteers here,” Ari said over the comms. “May I
have five more minutes of your collective time?”

Lopez looked a question at Griffin, who was attaching the IV
bottle to a slot in the airframe with a small carabineer.

Griffin said, “Nadia’s stable, for now.”

Remembering the women and kids he was unable to save from
the capsized party barge weeks ago, Cade said, “I’m in.”

Cross nodded.

***

With Ari piloting the chopper like only a Night Stalker
could and Skipper guiding a rope and attached sling towards the window, Cade
watched the delicate dance taking place via the cabin monitor.

Twice, the young woman, who was canted forward with a
curtain wrapped around one hand and swiping away with the free one, nearly
snared the wildly spinning nylon sling. And twice she almost plummeted to her
death through the jagged opening. But on the third try the brunette snared the
sling with a finger and dragged it inside the room with her.

Also watching the drama on the monitor, Griffin asked,
“Won’t the glass cut the sling?”

Skipper, who was guiding the rope, shook his head. Said,
“Negative.”

After holding his breath for a good ninety seconds, Cade
exhaled when he saw the lone survivor return to the opening with both hands
grasping the rope and wearing the sling correctly.

Ari said, “I’m going to pull her out sideways.”

“Copy that,” said Skipper, his voice all business.

And Ari did just that. He sideslipped the helo gently to
port and the woman had no choice but to step over the dagger-sharp shards of
glass and into the void.

In less than a minute the woman, who identified herself as
Emily, was in the cabin and drinking greedily from Griffin’s hydration pack.

***

Once the newest passenger was strapped into her seat, Ari
pulled pitch, curled around to the west, and passed over the front of the
apartment building. The four signature palm trees passed under the starboard
side and Ari dropped them down over the pedestrian bridge, then nosed the
helicopter south and west following just over the Interstate and backtracking
the way they’d come.

A few seconds later they were orbiting Los Angeles Coliseum
and Cade was watching the Osprey rise up slowly from the faded gridiron. He
looked away and asked Griffin about the wound to his arm.

“I’ll live,” was all the SEAL offered up before going back
to tending to the new passengers.

Finally, the Ghost Hawk made a sweeping right turn to the
east and after a minute or two the Osprey had cleared the flag standards
ringing the coliseum, was formed up off the starboard side and remained there
while Ari lined up for the first of two aerial refuels necessary to see them
from Los Angeles to Mack and eventually Schriever, and no doubt what was
guaranteed to be one hell of a tearful reunion for the small Nash family.

Cade remained awake while both the Ghost Hawk and Osprey
drank and then watched the Hercules disappear following a north by east
heading. He shifted his gaze from the litter on the floor and got Lopez’s
attention. He said unashamedly, “Wake me up just before we refuel again.”

Lopez nodded and smiled. Cade had no doubt the new captain
was pleased after having saved an additional life, especially after having lost
Sergeant Kelly
‘Lasagna’
Lasseigne to Omega via the smallest of bites.