Authors: Cy Gunther
Corey
They stood together around the dining table, Susan and Michael
were
asleep on Ernst’s bunk. The past two days had been hectic, the preparations insanely detailed. They’d blocked off every approach except for the one which led directly from the old station house, a narrow road flanked on one side by the foundry, and a hanger company on the other.
Weapons and ammo were set up, traps set.
“So,” Ernst said, “here we are. We’ve got that delightful little group called the DEAD headed our way.” He looked around at them, smiling. “We all know what we’re doing. All the handsets are charged. We know that their ammunition should be fairly limited. That little prick Parker only had a few extra rounds. Chad was half starved and had no extra ammunition outside of the four rounds left in the old AR-15 he’d been using. We know, too, thanks to Chad, that they’ll be coming with maybe 70 who can fight. Maybe a little more for show. As m
any as they possibly get onto their
bikes.
“Try not to hit the bikes, okay?” Ernst asked, looking at them. “Not that we need the fuel, we just won’t really be able to fight any sort of fire that gets out of control. Also, Chad is doing us one last solid. He’s going to show them the way.”
Corey looked at Ernst, then over to Lee, who was smiling. Corey leaned close to her, asking in a low voice, “What did he do?”
“He nailed him to the base of the water tower with his arm pointing down into the ambush site.”
“Fuck,” Corey said. “My boy’s got a few more issues than I thought.”
“Is it wrong that I find him even hotter for doing that?” Lee asked.
“Yeah,” Corey said. “Yeah, just a little bit.”
Lee laughed and punched him in the shoulder.
Corey grinned, shaking his head.
“Everyone squared away?” Ernst asked.
They all nodded.
“Okay,” Ernst sighed, “let’s rock.”
Corey joined up with Brian as they headed out into the cold darkness of the November morning. Together the two of them set a steady pace, heading out to their position in the foundry. They kept their eyes and ears open, just in case any of the undead had entered the area after the last sweep, but there was nothing. After half an hour they were securing the door and double checking the scavenged up-armor they had placed in their firing position.
On a salvaged firing stand they had the Ma Deuce from Lee’s humvee set up, along with over a thousand rounds of ammunition. Just to be on the safe side. Ernst had laughed at them, but since they humped it out (and would be the ones humping it back), he hadn’t told them no.
Lee and Adam were across the street, manning a 240 Bravo SAW that had been salvaged, and Ernst would be the greeter.
Emily was back at the warehouse, watching the laptop, making sure that nobody tried to slip in through the unsecured areas. No one was worried about Emily, especially since she had managed to handle Terrence’s old M1 and put the man down once he reanimated.
Ernst, though, Ernst was going to be the wildcard.
Corey and Brian checked the action on the .50 cal, loaded it, and sat back.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Brian asked.
“Probably sitting in that fucking recliner he salvaged and smoking his pipe.”
“Yeah, probably,” Brian said. “What the hell do you think he’s going to do when they show up?”
“Fuck if I know,” Corey sighed. He lit a cigarette and looked at his twin. “Fuck if I know.”
Adam
“How are you holding up?” Adam asked.
“Alright,” Lee answered. “Why?”
“That’s the fifth time that you checked the feed on the SAW. Pretty sure that we’re all set, kid.”
Lee laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a little nervous.”
“’Bout the man?”
“The man?” she laughed again.
“The man,” Adam grinned. “He’s got some serious issues, but he was fucking prepared for the apocalypse.”
“Yes he was,” Lee said softly. Then, in a louder voice she said, smiling, “And yes, I’m worried about him. He doesn’t need to sit out there. We could just open up on them when they’re in range.”
Adam nodded. “That’s not him, though. There really is something wrong with him. Something broke in there a long time ago. This is the first time I’ve ever seen that guy completely relaxed. Which is a truly fucked up thing to say.”
“Yes it is.”
“I’m almost a hundred percent positive though,” Adam added, “that he’s going to be okay.”
“Almost a hundred percent?” she asked.
“Well,” Adam sighed, checking the feed on the SAW to her amusement, “there’s always that chance that I am completely fucking wrong.”
Ernst
Although Ernst knew that it was cold, he didn’t feel it.
He didn’t feel much of anything, in fact.
He was reading, and when reading most of the world drifted away from him.
He was buried in the
Book of the Five Rings
, his pipe going steadily. On his lap was an antique Colt Navy revolver, 1842 model adapted to use shells instead of
the
black powder packed shot. In his vest pockets he carried a score of spare rounds, and he smiled at the thought as he settled deeper into the comfort of the leather armchair he had dragged out of one of the foundry offices.
He had even found a nice little table, and he had a bottle of whiskey, Jameson’s, open. As the sun rose he poured himself another double shot, put the book down for a moment and took the pipe out of his mouth, and knocked the drink back.
Life was good.
Sitting in the chair would be even better with Lee on his lap, but he didn’t want her – or anyone else – in the direct line of fire. He would either make it or he wouldn’t, but he certainly couldn’t make it worrying about the others.
Hell, he could –
The sound of engines cut off his thoughts, and his smile broadened.
He poured himself another shot, drank it, then, he returned to Musashi’s text on dueling.
Within a few minutes the motorcycles were tearing down the road towards him, Harley’s with custom pipes roaring. He counted close to fifty before they came to a stop some thirty feet away, shards of glass and caltrops strewn heavily across the sidewalks and street.
A middle aged man with a thick blonde beard and long hair raised his fist, and the engines all cut out. The men put their hands on their weapons. Each and everyone wore a DEAD vest, and sun glasses.
Ernst grinned.
“Good morning,” he said to the leader of the pack, “beautiful day for a massacre, isn’t it?”
Some of the men glanced at each other, but the leader shook his head. “You’re going to get fucked today.”
“I certainly hope so. My girl’s extremely pretty.”
A few of the men chuckled after the leader did. The blonde man smiled at Ernst, “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“I meant that I’m personally going to fuck you when we’re done here.”
“I know.”
Ernst put his book down, poured himself another drink, raised the tumbler up to the leader, and drank it slowly.
“You’re fucking tapped, aren’t you,” the blonde man said.
“Pretty much. I thought maybe Chad would have told you that.”
The blonde stiffened at the mention of the sniper.
“You did that?” he asked.
“I helped him guide you here, yes, yes. That was me. As for Chad’s condition, well, that was after four days of chilly weather, and an hour and a half with a friend of mine.
Adam’s good with knives.”
“Adam’s fucking dead,” the blonde snarled. “Chad was my cousin.”
“Do you want to take a piece of him home with you?” Ernst asked. “I’d offer you his weapon, but it was such a piece of shit that we tossed it.”
The men on the bikes glanced around nervously, some of them noticing for the first time that they were boxed in on three sides. A few looked backwards at the way they had come.
“Enough of this fucking around,” the blonde said. “We’re here for your shit, and Parker. Where is he?”
“Check the atmosphere,” Ernst said. “Parker was a dumb ass. We burned his corpse.”
The men began to murmur, a couple on the edges trying to turn their bikes around.
“You killed Parker?” the blonde sneered.
“Nope.”
“Then where the fuck is he.”
“Dead.”
“But you said you didn’t kill him.”
“I did.”
“You did kill him?”
“No, I said I didn’t kill him. I was agreeing with you.”
“Well if you didn’t,” the blonde snapped, “who the fuck did?”
“A little Chinese mother who’s with us.”
“What?”
“Yup, drove a spear right through his fucking neck, then, when it was through, she twisted the damn thing and just about popped his head off.” Ernst smiled. “It was the damndest thing, you know, sort of like watching a human pimple getting popped off the face of existence.”
“You know what, I’ve had enough of you, you little prick, you –“
“Did you ever see…fuck, I can’t remember now. A music video with a guy pretending to hold an AK?”
“What?”
“You know, back when music videos were actually on TV for more than a little while? Hell, back when there was TV?”
“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Anyway,” Ernst sighed, “there was this great video. Guy pretends to have an AK, tears shit up with imaginary bullets, you know?”
“I know that pistol in your lap isn’t imaginary,” the blonde said.
“Neither’s the one in my pants.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thanks,” Ernst smiled. “Anyway, here,” he put his pistol on the table and stood up. “The guy in the video, he got set up, like this,” Ernst spread his legs a little and made like he was holding an automatic weapon. “And then he just went, bada bada bada!”
As the words left Ernst’s mouth, the two teams opened up.
The heavy, thudding, punishing sound of the .50 ripped into the street, a sound accompanied by the steady rip of the 240. Men started screaming, blood spraying,
limbs being torn off. They went for their weapons but the machine guns traversed back and forth.
It was over in a matter o
f moments
.
Men continued to scream and weep, the sounds echoing off of the buildings. Ernst’s ears ached as he picked up his pistol and started walking forward, picking his way carefully. Calmly he put a round in each man’s head. Reloading as he went, smoking steadily and humming to himself around the stem of the pipe.
By the time he was done only one young man was still alive, miraculously unharmed but trapped beneath his bike. Adam and Lee, Corey and Brian, had all made their way into the street, had all watched him in silence as he worked through the wounded and the dead. Ernst nodded to the twins, who lifted the bike off of the young man.
“Take the fucking colors off,” Ernst said softly.
The young man stripped the vest off, shaking.
“Go home, tell them what we did. Tell them not to come back. Is that understood?”
The young man nodded.
“Good. Go.”
The young man turned and started to run.
Lee came up to Ernst and kissed him on the cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist. He smiled at her.
“We’ll need to siphon the gas, take the ammo, and booby trap the weapons. Leave the fuckers where they are.”
“They’re stopped for now,” Adam said, l
ooking around at the devastation.
In the distance, though, the sound of moaning began to rise, and Adam sighed.
“But I think that it’s going to be one hell of a long winter.”