OUTNUMBERED volume 1: A Zombie Apocalypse Series (5 page)

Maria again drove like hell, and I occasionally called for Junior on the radio. Twenty-five miles south of Columbia I received a reply, but it wasn't from Junior.

"Ed here. I've got Junior in sight. I heard your exchange about splitting up and raced ahead to cover him."

Ed's crew left the compound thirty minutes after our main group with the intention of trapping anyone following us when he caught up to us.

Ed continued, "We're clear. No one followed you or we would have seen them. We got close to you once, heard you on the radio then backed off. We stayed in radio range listening to your chatter but kept silent."

I'd watched throughout the drive as Maria monitored the rear view mirror closely. We were again on track. A few minutes later we entered Jefferson City.

Maria said, "A lone pickup is gaining on us. It's black like Shane's truck."

Martin called then to let us know they were friendlies. Shane passed us and Ed's truck and took the lead so Martin Sr. could monitor the tracking signals. We took Highway 50/63 East out of town, and then we turned south on 63 again.

My crew appeared sluggish from the tight and extended confinement in the truck cab. God knows I was. After eight hours of sitting my butt was tired. No one had nervously cracked jokes or spoke for the past hour. I knew they were all worried. I thought of our missing crew members and hoped they hadn't been harmed. No one had vocalized their fears in detail, but I knew them well enough to know their thoughts traveled the same tracks as mine. That was the reason every last person in our building had volunteered for this mission.

An hour later we turned west onto US 44. A few minutes later, the radio squawked and Junior said, "Dad, south onto Highway T."

Martin replied, "Gotcha."

We turned onto the twisting, hilly, two-lane blacktop road and drove for forty minutes.

Junior spoke excitedly, "Ha, Dad, I've got a big buck off to my left. He's so big he's kicking up dust when he prances."

Several seconds later, Martin Sr. replied, "Gotcha, stay in your blind and don't shoot until it's closer."

I saw by confused looks that four of us were lost after listening to the exchange. I asked, "What the hell was that about?"

John Alton's eyes twinkled and he laughed before he spoke, "Junior's pretty damn clever. He just told us the deer he's after, our truck, turned left onto a gravel or dirt road and kicked up dust. Then Martin replied for him to stay in his blind. I assume that meant to take cover. The rest was probably just playing along."

I was serious when I told the people in my crew, "Get ready, we're close."

Our three trucks pulled to the side of the road and all fifteen of us stepped out to stretch during an impromptu meeting. Several were positive the kidnappers would have a sentry stationed close to the turnoff and a means of warning the main group of an imminent attack. Everyone nodded. Martin said the receiver showed the first transmitter had turned left about three-fourths of a mile ahead. Junior looked to be about three-eighths of a mile from us on the right side of the road.

I didn't want our people walking into a trap; we didn't know what size group we were up against; they could be five or fifty strong. After a short discussion, we speculated the group would likely be small because no one had been assigned to follow us. But we didn't know that for sure. We parked the trucks off the highway behind a ridge and locked them. Sixteen of us, including Junior, would spring the assault on the kidnappers. We split into two teams with Shane's crew on the left side of the road and my bunch on the right side.

Fifteen minutes later, Junior joined my team and took his customized AK47 from Jeff Tanka. We cautiously continued. We maintained radio silence for the remote chance the kidnappers might have electrical power and were running a radio scanner. We assumed we were close to them, and we didn't want to lose the surprise advantage we had. My crew spread out to the right and left of me, and we progressed slowly looking for sentries. I heard three quick clicks from a transmit button that were loud and clear in my earpiece. I raised my hand and whistled sharply for everyone to stop. Shane had used the agreed signal to indicate his crew had found the enemy. We waited for five tense minutes. All of us peered into the brush and ahead at the mature old growth trees looking for kidnappers on our side of the blacktop road. I smiled as two radio clicks were followed by three more. Shane's crew had found two sentries and both were terminated.

Ours is a harsh new world and we live by vigilante protocols. Enemies who attempt to harm or murder us are dealt with severely because we don't have the luxury of confining and feeding them for long periods of punishment.

We continued for a short distance through a line of trees between the road and a field on our right. We soon reached the gravel road our truck and trailer had traversed less than an hour ago. A light breeze blew and the air felt sharp and crisp. My crew crossed the highway quickly in single file. We huddled amongst the trees expectantly.

Shane stood in the middle of our group. "There are nine more men besides the guy who drove our truck. They're holed up in a two-story solid-stone building about a quarter of a mile down this gravel road. It's approximately thirty or thirty-five feet square, and there are windows on all four sides. It's their main facility. To the left of it are three old wooden sheds and a large metal pole-barn. The barn is where they store all their supplies."

I knew Shane's interrogation methods from having spent five years in Delta Force with him. Before dying the enemy had likely been 'strongly encouraged' to cooperate.

"This could be bad," I said. "We don't have anything with us to breach stone walls. When we get there lay and wait. Remember our people are captive in there. If we attack while the kidnappers are inside that stone building, they'll likely threaten to kill our friends if we don't surrender. Once we learn what the situation is we'll regroup if necessary.

"Stay in the two groups we have. My crew crosses to the other side of the gravel road and Shane's crew works this side. It's still light enough for them to be unloading the trailer into their pole-barn. Maybe we can catch the whole group outside. Watch for our people because they might be forced to help unload."

My crew moved across the gravel road and had gone two hundred feet when we heard gunfire in the distance. A barrage of gunshots came from the direction where the buildings lay. In a single line, we started a fast jog through the undergrowth staying twenty feet from the roadway. Only minutes after starting to jog, our nostrils were assailed by the stench of zombies. I assumed that must be what the kidnappers were firing at. If we had to fight zombies, too, that would alert the kidnappers that we were near. I didn't like the new development, but there was no choice but to continue. We maintained our pace but were on high alert for the undead we knew stalked close by. Less than three minutes later we left the smell behind us and could breathe without wanting to vomit. We stopped when a woman from Shane's crew crossed the road to us. "There's a bunch of dead zombies in a ravine off to our left. That's where the smell came from. It's a dumping ground in lieu of burial. We haven't seen any walking ones, so Shane wants to continue on." I nodded, and she zipped back across the road.

In five minutes, Shane's crew circled to the left of a clearing. My crew went right. Sporadic gunfire continued. The building layout was like the kidnapper's sentries had described it. One man stood outside at the corner of the middle shed firing at the stone building. Weapons were being fired back at the kidnappers. I counted three people shooting through windows from inside the stone building. Those had to be our people. I wondered how the hell they had accomplished that.

We continued to encircle the site. I saw one body lying beside our truck and another behind the trailer. The second body was the man who'd driven our truck. John Alton tapped my arm and pointed. A tall, thin stranger in military camouflage sneaked along the side of the stone building. The man rose outside a window to peer inside the building. John leaned forward as he aimed and blew two holes in the left side of the sneak's chest. Seven kidnappers left.

The heaviest gunfire toward the stone building came from the pole-barn. Apparently several people had taken shelter inside it when our people started firing from the building. They were learning the thin metal siding on pole-barns is not good protection from hi-powered rifles.

Shooting from multiple guns erupted, and we watched a kidnapper fall as Shane's crew shot him when he changed position outside the middle shed. Another man ran from the metal pole-barn toward the woods as he sprayed a magazine of bullets on full automatic at Shane's crew. He was leveled with a short volley of rifle fire. I gathered three of my crew and sent them to join Shane. His people were spread thin covering the backs of the outbuildings while we had clear shots at anyone attempting to leave the front side. For a while it was a stand off with both sides exchanging occasional gunfire.

A rifle inside the building fired three quick rounds, and a man inside the pole-barn screamed, "I'm hit. Rance, that bitch shot me. Help me. I'm gut shot." A man staggered around the doorway of the pole-barn. He'd bent over holding his stomach and yelled, "Don't shoot, don't shoot." Blood drenched his shirt and ran through his fingers and down his pants. I aimed, but before I could squeeze the trigger the injured man’s head slammed backward and blood splattered the side of the barn.

A lone man yelled, "Surrender, surrender," as he walked from the pole-barn and dropped an assault rifle. A woman's voice from inside the stone building yelled, "Don't shoot him, He's my prisoner." The kidnapper put both hands above his head and knelt. Three kidnappers were still missing. Shane and two others from his crew approached the pole-barn. One stood watch behind the man on his knees while Shane and Andrea Michaels slipped inside the pole-barn.

Minutes later, Shane's voice came over the radio, "Two bodies are in the barn. That accounts for all but one."

At the sight of people they knew, the prisoners threw the main door of the stone building open. Kira helped Albert hobble through the doorway, and Tony struggled to walk using a rifle like a cane. We ran to them, and I asked, "Where's the last kidnapper?"

Without looking at me, Kira said, "He's in the back room. He's dead." I glanced at her and saw remnants of dried blood on her right hand and up her forearm.

A woman and a man from Shane's team advanced and searched the lone kidnapper. When they were satisfied he was unarmed, they pulled his arms behind him and tightened plastic ties on his wrists.

As we relaxed and took time to look closer, it was evident all three of our kidnapped people had been abused and beaten. Kira turned Albert over to his wife, Maria. She opened the door on a truck and helped Albert sit inside. As she and Kira spoke, Maria gave her handgun to Kira. Kira walked to the prisoner, and I met her there.

"Are you okay? You look like you've been through hell."

"This pervert raped me," she said bluntly with deep loathing in her tone. Kira turned on her heel to look directly at me, "And he's going to die slowly for that. He's going to remember the last piece of ass he ever had right up until I blow his perverted brains out." Our guards by the prisoner read the hate in Kira's expression and stepped away. She faced her tormentor. "I told you I'd live to see you pay for raping me, and I meant it. Now it's my time to play with you, you filthy bastard."

The man was tall and heavy. His beard was brown with scatterings of gray, and his brown hair was greasy.  He looked over to me. He smirked, but his eyes showed fear. "You ain't gonna let her do anything to me, are you. I'm your prisoner, and I've got rights, man. There's rules of war you gotta follow. Even with this zombie shit, we've gotta stick to what's right when the cards are down, right?"

"Wrong, Rance," Kira said, "and it's not his choice. It's mine. I'm the one you raped and beat, remember?" Everything in the surrounding area went quiet when the .40 caliber shot blasted out.

Rance screamed as blood flowed from his left knee. He keeled over onto his side. "Stop, you bitch. God damn it! You can't do this, I'm tied up and unarmed." He looked to me. "Please make her stop. Man, you all need to stop her."

Another shot rang out and blood flowed from his right knee cap. Rance screamed and cried out louder, but his bravado had vanished. "This bitch is killing me, Make her stop, please, I'm begging you. You can't do this, man"

Kira slowly walked around Rance deciding where to inflict pain next.

I moved closer to the rapist, pulled my Glock and shot him in the forehead. Kira stared; hate billow through her expression in waves. "I can guess what these animals have done to you, but I'm not going to stand here and let you extract vengeance, even on this piece of shit, just so it will make you feel better. It's about justice and who we are. Our group's rules call for justice. But justice that's carried out swiftly and fairly. We're not going to turn into animals like this one. I told the group there would be no prisoners and I mean it."

"Damn you! God Damn you, Tom Jacobs," Kira yelled. Her expression was hard, and her hand quivered as she raised the gun in her hand toward me. She hesitated, lowered her arm, turned, and sullenly handed the gun back to Maria butt first before she stalked off toward the stone building shuddering with tears streaming. As Kira turned, I noticed Shane lowering his sidearm back to his holster. Kira would likely never know how close her temper brought her to being executed.