The Reckoning - 02 (23 page)

             
We took our time and made certain that we collected every book that we thought might come in handy. We grabbed books on gardening, farming, chemistry, medicine, mechanics, metallurgy and several other subjects. All in all, it was enough to fill several bags with heavy books. Once we were satisfied that we’d gotten everything we needed, we gathered by the main desk to distribute the weight amongst ourselves.

             
“I’m going to take a peek outside and see if the coast is clear,” I said, and headed off towards the back door.

             
Southard followed me and we crept down the hallway and crouched near the door. Outside, the fire was still burning from the truck that Southard had shot. A crowd of zombies had gathered near the wreckage, but just seemed to be milling around. There were several burned bodies lying on the ground from zombies that had been too close when the truck exploded.

             
Staying low, we crept back down the hallway to the others. Then I headed off to the west side of the building to look out the windows. There were a few zombies milling around on the west side, but not many. We might have a shot at getting back to the jail, if we went fast and hard. We’d be running and shooting the entire way, but we had a good chance of success if Master Control got the gate open quickly.

             
Smiling, I headed back to the others.

             
“Well folks,” I said, “I think we’ve got a shot at getting back, if we move quickly. It’s not going to be pretty, though. I don’t see a way of sneaking back.”

             
“Sorry,” muttered Southard.

             
“Forget it, Chuck,” I said. “Let’s worry about getting back, not who did what. We’ve all done dumb stuff before.”

             
“Especially you,” said Spec-4. “Like when you jumped out of a vehicle that was surrounded by zombies.”

             
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’ve pulled my share of bonehead maneuvers.”

             
“How many are there in the way?” asked Bowman.

             
“Five or six,” I replied. “But the others will be after us the moment we use the guns.”

             
“Why not use the bows, then?” asked John. “That
is
why we brought them.”

             
“That’s not a bad idea,” I said, smiling. “We can open the door and thin them out a bit. If they notice us, we can switch weapons.”

             
We split the four bags of books between Bowman, Matthews, Southard and Spec-4. She insisted on taking one, since John and I would need the freedom to use the bows. It made sense, but I didn’t want to overload her. Out of all of us there, she was the smallest by far. The bag of books weighed almost as much as she did.

             
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” said Bowman, guessing my thoughts. “If she gets into trouble, I’ll take the bag.”

             
I was confident that Big Johnny Bowman could carry both of their bags of books, his gear and
Spec-4
, if he had to. It was going to be my job to cover him while he did it.

             
“Alright,” I answered. “Let’s get ready to move. Once we eliminate the stragglers, you guys make a run for it. John and I will bring up the rear and pick off any dead we see that get too close.”

             
John and I both drew and nocked an arrow. Then I nodded once at Southard. With a grim look on his face, he pulled out the mop handle that was locking the door. Gently, he began pushing it open, careful not to make any noise. Once it was open about a foot, John released his first shaft. I hadn’t even found my first target when I heard his arrow strike home with a wet
THUNK.

             
John was readying his second arrow when I got my first target. It was a
Shambler
about twenty yards away. My focus narrowed to the combat and I felt the old skills returning to my fingers. I could feel the beating of my heart in my chest and hear it in my skull. I released the shaft and it flew true. With a slight shimmy in the flight, the arrow streaked the distance between us and struck the
Shambler
in the left side of the head, just behind the ear and continued on out the other side. It dropped like a stone.

             
Then, time lurched and things started moving quickly. Two arrows each later and John and I had taken down four more zombies. Then I motioned for everyone to move out. Drawing an arrow as I moved, I advanced to the edge of the building. John took up position next to me and we took out two more targets. The others headed across the parking lot, retracing our steps towards the jail.

             
John nodded at me and turned to follow the others. I began walking backwards, releasing another arrow as I went. It flew straight into the face of a
Sprinter
that was coming our way from the street. A quick glance to my left showed me that none of the zombies had made it past the burning wreckage of the parts truck. That was good.

             
Dropping the last zombie that was in the immediate area, I turned and trotted after the others. They were a good thirty yards ahead of me, but I was moving fast. They were descending the stairs behind the utility office when I caught up with them. I paused long enough to send feathered death to a
Shambler
who appeared around the back of the building.

             
I readied another arrow and scanned the area quickly. The only zombies around us were too far away to be a threat. Just as I was turning to head down the stairs, a
Shrieker
began its hideous cry. My head snapped around instantly. It was standing near the vehicle gate, directly across the street from us. Unfortunately, they were blocking our entry back into the jail.

             
“Weapons hot!” I bellowed, releasing the arrow.

             
Mine struck the
Shrieker
a split second after John’s did. His went through the left eye and mine went through the throat. Not bad for a nearly forty yard shot. Instantly, the
Shrieker
fell silent and tumbled over backwards, to rise no more. The nearly fifty zombies that were crowded around the gate were all turning towards us. Just as everyone was bringing up weapons, a thought occurred to me.

             
“Check fire! Check fire!” I screamed. “Do NOT shoot!”

             
“Why the hell not?” bellowed Bowman.

             
“We’ve got people on the other side of that gate,” I yelled. “We might hit them!”

             
“Copy that!” yelled Spec-4. “What now?”

             
“Haul ass for the delivery gate,” I shouted. “Once they follow us into the street, we’re clear to fire.”

             
Everyone headed south behind the utility building. The zombies were already advancing on us, but there didn’t seem to be any
Sprinters
in the bunch. At least, so far. I rounded the corner of the building last, and the zombies were less than ten yards away. I slung the bow across my chest and let it hang there as I pulled out my M-4.

             
I dropped the safety on the M-4 just as I heard weapons fire ahead of me. I knew we only had a few minutes before we attracted every zombie in the area down on us. Unfortunately, the zombies were gaining ground and numbers. For every yard we ran, they closed two. For every zombie we took out, two more appeared from around the corner of the jail fence. This was going to the hot place in a hurry.

             
“700, get that back gate open!” I screamed into the radio mic.

             
“700, copy,” came the reply. “Assistance is standing by inside the delivery area.”

             
“Outstanding,” I snapped. “Just have that gate open.”

             
We rounded the corner of the office building behind the jail and saw the gate starting to swing open. Inside, I saw three officers with assault rifles holding position behind the Charger I’d driven in. Hope swelled in my chest and I urged the others onward.

             
“Keep going!” I shouted. “Get inside. I’ve got our back.”

             
I turned and flipped the M-4 from semi-auto to auto and engaged the trigger. In seconds, I emptied my magazine. I succeeded in causing the front dozen or so to stumble. This bought us a few seconds of precious time. I continued to run backwards as I reloaded. I had the presence of mind to throw the empty magazine over my shoulder and through the open gate. I was just chambering a fresh round, when the officers behind me opened fire.

             
No sooner than I cleared the gate, Master Control started shutting it. The zombies were less than twenty yards from the gate when it closed completely. Admittedly, there were quite a few less of them than there had been. As soon as it shut someone started the FedEx truck and drove it right up against the gate, sealing it off.

             
Lowering my weapon, I turned a complete circle. After a quick headcount, I noted that we’d all made it inside the gates. That was good news. For a moment there, I didn’t think any of us would make it. I breathed a sigh of relief and a silent prayer.

             
“Anyone hurt?” I shouted. “Everyone good?”

             
“Clear,” said Spec-4, waving in my direction.

             
“I’m good,” said Bowman.

             
“Me too,” said Southard.

             
Matthews and John just gave me a thumbs-up and a nod. We were all fine. Out of breath, but fine. Returning my weapon to safe, I lowered it to point at the ground.

             
“Alright everyone,” I said. “Let’s get back inside and unload.”

             
I had to smile. Phase one of my plan was complete and it would only get harder from here. I just hoped that we had enough time to do all the things we needed to do to prepare for a full-scale evacuation. We weren’t ready and I had no way of knowing how long we had to prepare. I hoped the All-Father was watching over us. We were going to need it.

“
Confront them with annihilation, and they will then survive; plunge them into a deadly situation, and they will then live. When people fall into danger, they are then able to strive for victory.
”

-
         
Sun Tzu

              It was almost dark by the time we all made it back inside the jail. I felt the weight of the day’s action bearing down on me. I was bone-weary to the point of almost dropping. I didn’t even feel like eating, but Karen and the boys were waiting for me in the officer’s break room with a plate of food. How could I say no?

             
Dropping my pack, I slid into a chair and sighed. Evan sat a tray in front of me, loaded with three hamburgers and a pile of French fries. I couldn’t help but smile. They must have thought I’d worked up a Herculean appetite to eat that much food. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I wasn’t really hungry.

             
“Thanks,” I said, grinning. “I doubt I can eat all of this.”

             
“We’ll help,” said Erik, sliding into the chair across from me.

             
Karen sat next to me and handed me a cup of coffee. I raised an eyebrow and looked at it dubiously. It didn’t smell like Booking Sludge, but I’d been fooled before.

             
“Relax,” she chided. “I made it in the pot in Master Control.”

             
I smiled and took a sip. It was definitely my wife’s coffee. I closed my eyes and let the flavor take me back to happier places. I felt her fingers caress my face, tracing the fresh scar that now dominated my face. It was a rapidly purpling line that ran from my lip, across my nose and above my eyebrow. It didn’t hurt anymore. In fact, it had healed far faster than I had expected it to. Faster than even Maddie thought it should. I guess I could chock it up to luck.

             
“Are you alright?” she whispered in my ear. “I’ve never seen you so hurt, before.”

             
“I’m fine, babe,” I reassured her, opening my eyes. “It’s just a scar.”

             
I glanced down at my plate to grab some food and found it almost empty. My three sons were sitting across from me, each eating a burger. I had to chuckle at that. Shrugging, I started eating the fries. I didn’t care, I wasn’t that hungry anyway.

             
“Boys,” said Karen, “I thought those were for your dad.”

             
“They’re fine,” I said, laughing. “I’m just happy to be sitting here with you guys.”

             
We sat there for a while, just soaking in each other’s company. The boys ate the burgers, most of the fries and nearly emptied the tea cooler. I ate a few fries and sipped my coffee. If we hadn’t been sitting in the jail, I probably could have convinced myself that everything was back to normal. Well, at least for a little while, anyway.

             
I slipped my arm around Karen and just held her there, her head on my shoulder. I didn’t want this time to end, but I knew it was going to. I did something I used to do when there was a special occasion. I held this moment in my mind’s eye and let it sink in. This would be a good memory, one that would help me through darker times to come. I knew they would be coming soon.

             
Almost as if on cue, I heard the door to the break room open. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. I felt Karen tense up in my arms. I could tell she knew something was wrong. Opening my eyes, I turned my head and saw Southard walking in. The look on his face told me it wasn’t good news.

             
“Hi, Karen,” he said, forcing a smile. “What’s up, boys?”

             
“Hi, Chuck,” Karen replied, her voice tense. “What’s wrong?”

             
“Uh…nothing,” he stammered, lying badly. “I just need to borrow Wylie for a few minutes. It’s no big deal.”

             
“I’ll be right back,” I said, reluctantly letting go of Karen.

             
I could tell she didn’t believe me by the look in her eyes. Nevertheless, she didn’t protest. I slipped out of her grasp and stood up. Elliot, my oldest son got up to follow. This time, I didn’t stop him. The three of us headed out the door and into the hallway.

             
“You sure you want to be here, Elliot?” I asked.

             
“Yeah, dad,” he said, confidently. “If we’re gonna get through this, we’ll all need to do our part. I’m ready.”

             
“Alright, son,” I said, gripping his shoulder. “I know you are. Just stick close and do as I tell you. You’ll be fine.”

             
Turning to Southard, I had to suppress a smile. I was very proud of my son. I just had to make sure I did my part and kept him safe.

             
“What’s going on, Chuck?”

             
“Corporal Halsey’s up on the roof,” he said. “He thinks we might want to get up there and take a look at something.”

             
“Elliot, grab my pack and gear for me,” I said.

             
Elliot headed into the break room and I turned back to Southard.

             
“Something you’re not saying, Chuck?”

             
“We might not have as much time to get out of here as you think,” he said. “We’ve got moving aircraft.”

             
“How many?”

             
“Not sure,” he replied. “Halsey said multiple fast movers.”

             
“Jets?” I said, wrinkling my brow. “What the hell for?”

             
The break room door opened as Elliot returned with my gear. I slid the pack onto my shoulders and took the M-4 from him. After checking the load on it, I hesitated and handed it back to him. Elliot took it cautiously and looked at me with uncertainty in his eyes.

             
“It’s alright, son,” I said. “This one’s for you. You already know how to shoot. Tonight, I’ll teach you how to field strip and clean it.”

             
I only took a few seconds to show him how to drop the magazine and how to pull the charging handle. He found the safety on his own.

             
“Keep it on safe unless you’re planning on using it,” I cautioned. “Don’t put in on auto until I have the chance to show you how to handle it. Got it?”

             
“No problem, dad,” he said, admiring the weapon.

             
“Alright, Chuck, let’s go.”

             
Southard led us through the main sliders and up to the second floor. Then we headed into the access way that led to the roof. It was completely dark when we emerged. There was enough light from the moon for us to see clearly. The air was cool, compared to inside and the stars were clear to see. Without the light pollution from the city lights, you could see from horizon to horizon. I was happy to see that they’d shut down all external lights on the building. Light attracts zombies at night.

             
I could hear the rumble of multiple jet engines as they seemed to be circling the area. I couldn’t tell what they were in the darkness. I saw the running lights of at least three. Whatever they were, they were moving much too fast to be civilian planes. That just meant one thing. They were fighters.

             
As I searched the sky for the planes, Gunny came walking over to me. He had a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth and had found himself a set of black BDU’s. He’d pulled the department patches off of the sleeves, but he still wore them military style, with the pants bloused. I noticed that his arm wasn’t in a sling anymore.

             
“Good to see you, Guns,” I said, grinning.

             
“You hear them,” he said, jerking his thumb towards the jets.

             
“Yeah, I hear them,” I said. “Fighters, right?”

             
“Bet your ass they’re fighters,” he said, through teeth clenched around his stogie. “Those are Marine Corps F-18’s. I’d know that sound in my sleep.”

             
I trusted Gunny’s experience on that one. If the Gunny said he knew something, I believed him. I noticed that he and Corporal Halsey were both chomping on stogies. Halsey was a retired Navy man and I’m sure that Gunny was thrilled to have another crusty old military man to swap tales with. I glanced over at Halsey.

             
“What do you think, Will?” I asked.

             
“I’d say he’s right about them being F-18’s,” said Halsey. “I heard my fair share of them back when I was stationed on Enterprise.”

             
“That’s a strike fighter,” said Elliot. “Isn’t it?”

             
“Damned straight,” said Gunny. “From the sound of ‘em, I’d say they’re the Super Hornet. They’re bigger and pack more ordinance.”

             
“That’s not good news,” I said. “Why do you think they’re here?”

             
“Hard to say,” said Gunny. “Recon or close air support would be my guess.”

             
“Or providing cover for other aircraft,” said Halsey.

             
I was about to say something else when one of the jets banked and came in low, almost directly overhead. If there had been more light out we probably could have seen the pilot’s face. As it was, we could see the aircraft clearly in the moonlight. It was definitely an F-18. It couldn’t have been more than a hundred feet off the ground.

             
“That sumbitch is takin’ recon photos,” said Gunny. “He came in low to get a good shot of us.”

             
I couldn’t argue with Gunny. I figured he was right. There wasn’t any other reason for a fighter to come in that close to the ground, unless he was attacking something. He’d only made it a few blocks when something happened that surprised us all. A missile streaked out from near the square. The pilot was too low to avoid the hit. The plane’s systems automatically deployed countermeasures but it was too little, too late.

             
The missile struck the jet and exploded, shearing off part of the port-side wing and taking out one of the engines. The pilot fought hard for control, throwing the stick over and trying to climb. The doomed aircraft struggled, clawing for sky but it wasn’t enough. It was just a matter of time before it either exploded or fell out of the sky.

             
“Where the hell did that missile come from?” I shouted.

             
“Looks like the old tower on the square,” said Southard, pointing. “I saw the smoke trail.”

             
Just then, the other jets exacted their revenge for their fallen comrade. They came in from different directions and unloaded missiles and ordinance. Whoever was in that other building had just poked the sleeping bear. In seconds, the heavy explosives reduced the old tower to burning wreckage. The force of the explosion rocked us all. Elliott, Gunny and Corporal Halsey ducked behind the air conditioner. Southard and I did the proper army thing. We hit the ground and performed the famous duck and cover maneuver.

             
I got to my feet and knocked the roof gravel off of the front of my uniform. The roar of the explosion was dying out and we could hear the crackle of the fire. Another explosion shook the night as the dying fighter hit the ground to the west of us. Silhouetted in the moonlight I saw something that I didn’t expect to see, the rippling fabric of a parachute canopy. The pilot had managed to punch out before the crash.

             
“Holy shit!” I said, pointing. “He ejected!”

             
“Good for him,” said Gunny. “He’d have been better off dying with the plane. The poor bastard’s parachuting into zombie territory. I hope he’s armed.”

             
“That chute’s gonna hit ground pretty close to here,” I said. “Looks like a block or two to the west.”

             
“Aw, shit,” mumbled Southard. “I know what that means.”

             
“Grab Spec-4 and meet me in the sally-port,” I said. “Let’s see if we can save this guy.”

             
“Why?” asked Southard. “After what they did?”

             
“I don’t blame everyone in the military,” I said. “That might have been an Intel Op. Besides, we need information. If we can get him out alive, he might have plenty of info we can use.”

             
“Yeah,” said Gunny. “Like who’s actually on our side.”

             
“I’d say that no one is,” said Southard. “We’re on our own.”