This Shattered Land - 02 (15 page)

Gabe
stood up and cast a shadow over everyone in the room. “If we’re all agreed on a
course of action, then we need to go ahead and get to work. Eric and I need to
get cleaned up, then we’ll meet you all topside to give you a hand.”

Tom
nodded. “Sounds good. Sarah, you mind starting lunch while I get to work on the
cabin?”

“Not
at all. Come on Brian, you can give me a hand cooking those rabbits you got
this morning.”

“Oh
yeah,” the boy said, brightening up, “I forgot about that. I hope the birds
didn’t get them.”

They
filed up the ladder leaving Gabe and I in the still semi-darkness of the
bunker. I took dibs on the shower while Gabe filled up a couple of buckets and
bathed himself over the deck drain in the middle of the storage room floor. He
had the drain installed when the bunker was built just in case of any large
spills. In a pinch, it made a good place to clean up. We both stuffed our
blood-soaked clothes in a plastic bag.  Later, we would take them topside and
wash them in boiling water. Powdered laundry detergent was, thankfully,
something we had in abundance. It might not get all the bloodstains out, but it
would make our clothes wearable again. No sense in wasting perfectly good
garments over a few minor cosmetic flaws, even if it did remind us of something
we’d rather not think about.

As
we were about to climb out of the bunker, Gabe stopped with one booted foot
resting on the bottom rung of the ladder, hesitating for a moment.

“That
was good work you did, earlier.” He said. “You’re turning into a hell of a
rifleman.”

I
smiled and chuckled. “You gonna get all Mr. Miyagi on me, you big sap?”

Gabe
scowled, and climbed up the ladder. “Last time I ever give you a compliment.”
He grumbled.

I
laughed, and climbed up after him. 

Chapter 4

Ambush

The
first grey fingers of dawn were just beginning to reach over the eastern hills.
I peered through my scope to look at where Gabe had set up his hide. A thin
grey fog hung low over the mountains, obscuring the hillside where he lay under
a thick blanket of leaves and foliage. We’d both had ample time to set up our
positions, and as usual Gabe blended in so seamlessly with the hillside that if
I had not known exactly where to look, I never would have spotted him. I was
equally well hidden on the other side of the broad valley, and not looking
forward to another morning of watching and waiting.  It had been three days
since the swarm attacked us, and quite frankly, I was anxious to get the party
started. We roughed up the cabin and the tool shed to make it look like the
horde had torn them up, and scattered a few corpses inside the perimeter fence
to make it seem as though the undead had broken through. After we staged
everything, the cabin looked exactly as I would imagine it would if the dead
really did overrun us.

Gabe
spent two days reconnoitering the small house in an isolated hollow where the
other raiders had set up shop. He confirmed that there were indeed four more of
them, and they appeared well armed, if not exactly well fed. One of them seemed
to have some kind of military training, and he was definitely the ringleader of
the bunch. Gabe radioed back descriptions of all four of them and gave them
names. The leader was Bulldog, because he was maybe five foot six in a pair of
thick-soled hiking boots, powerfully built, and almost as broad through the
shoulders as he was tall. Redbeard was about my size and had a thick growth of
orange scruff on his face. Twig and Ben Franklin were both tall skinny guys.
Twig was so painfully thin that a strong breeze would probably knock him over,
and Ben Franklin’s head had a bald crown with long hair on the sides and back
kind of like…well, like Benjamin Franklin. Thankfully, they didn’t have any
hostages with them, but that could change at any time if they caught wind of
other survivors nearby. We were determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

Gabe
had notified us a few hours earlier that it looked like they had finally
saddled up and decided to move. If they were disturbed by the fact that their
compatriot never met up with them, they didn’t show it. Judging by the relative
ease with which I dispatched him, he was likely their weakest link anyway. Probably
why he was the one sent to sic the horde on us and observe the outcome; the
others didn’t care if he slipped up and wound up as ghoul food. I guessed that
was most likely their determination of his fate.

After
watching the raiders get to within a couple of miles of the cabin, Gabe left
his lookout post and fell back to the fire position he had set up the day after
the initial attack. He had radioed ahead to get Tom and Brian in the bunker,
and for Sarah and I to take up our firing positions as well.

The
raiders set out under cover of darkness, which was the only smart thing we had
seen them do so far. Not that it would do them much good, we literally saw them
coming from a mile away. Gabe and I were on opposing mountains on either end of
the valley that encircled the cabin on three sides. Sarah had set up her hide
on a piece of plywood wedged into the rafters of the tool shed. She cut out a
narrow strip of planking from the inside so she could peer outward, and settled
in a few feet back from it for concealment. If anyone made it past the primary
line of fire Gabe and I planned to lay down, she was the last line of defense.
Anybody approaching the fence from the east would fall squarely within Sarah’s
crosshairs. I didn’t plan on letting them get that far.

The
wind whistled over the rocks carrying the scent of death with it. Already I
could see vultures circling overhead, preparing to settle down for a breakfast
of long-dead ghoul carrion.  The damn things had been swarming our home for the
last few days, making a hell of a racket and leaving bird shit all over the
place. We couldn’t chase them off though, we wanted it to look like the
infected had won.

Such
a feast the filthy things were having. If I never saw another buzzard or crow
again, it would be too soon. At least it was still too cold for the flies,
although that probably wouldn’t last much longer. I could only hope a rain
shower would come soon and wash all the infected body fluids and bird crap off
the hillside. None of us knew for sure if animal feces could still spread the
Phage, so we took precautions just to be safe.

My
earpiece crackled, and I heard Gabe’s voice come over the radio. “All stations,
radio check.”

I
reached up to my neck and keyed the mike. “All clear, over.”

“All
clear.” Sarah said.

“Keep
your eyes peeled. No telling how long this might take. Out.”

“Wonderful,
just freakin’ wonderful.” I grumbled.

The
earpiece connecting me to my radio was growing uncomfortable. It had been a
long time since I’d needed to wear one, and I was willing to bet that things
would not turn out any less bloody than the last time. Another half hour
passed. I shifted slowly on my ground pad to let a little blood flow to my
legs, and tried to ignore the rapidly growing pressure in my bladder. The cold
was starting to seep up through the mat beneath me and bleed away my body heat,
and the damp fog blowing in from the north wasn’t helping things. I had to concentrate
hard not to shiver. Finally, the radio clicked again.

“Movement
on Sarah’s eleven o’clock, northeastern edge of the tree line. Over.” Gabe said.

About
damn time.

I
shifted my aim and covered the area Gabriel indicated. Peering through
countless spidery tree limbs and the bare branches of low shrubs, I could just
make out four hunched figures slowly picking their way through the forest. Not
very smart, sticking together like that. They would be much harder to detect if
they split up and belly crawled the last hundred yards or so to the meadow.
These guys were obviously not expecting any trouble. Big mistake. They stopped
a few yards from the edge of the woods and stared up the slope toward the
cabin, watching the shifting multitude of vultures, crows, and other scavengers
form a living black carpet as they feasted on the remains of the dead. The
cabin appeared empty and lifeless in the dim morning light, its windows broken
and the front door hanging open on one hinge. Outside on the fence, Gabriel had
thrown open the main gate and left the remains of a broken chain lying on the
ground nearby. To the men down the mountain from me, it must have looked like
their plan worked. The raiders conferred with their leader for a few moments,
probably wondering where all the ghouls had gotten off to and what happened to
their compatriot. I could imagine what they were saying. Did he get caught by
the undead? Did the people who lived here kill him? Did he run into trouble? Is
he maybe just asleep in the cabin?

None
of the above, little darlings.
I thought.
Come on out and play.

I
made an adjustment to the scope on the M-110 Gabe loaned me to compensate for
the breeze picking up out of the north, then slipped my finger over the trigger
and sighted in again. My thoughts wandered back to the last time I ambushed a
bunch of viscous miscreants, and the way my senses seemed to sharpen just
before the shooting started. I began to feel the same thing again lying there
on the cold wet ground. I could feel the rough texture on the trigger that I
didn’t notice before. The smell of moisture, mold, rotten leaves, and the iron
scent of hard granite in the ground beneath me was sharp and stinging. The tree
limbs moving in the forest around me, once a soft, gentle rustle, now seem to
boom and scrape like a symphony of bones in the strengthening breeze. Gabe’s
voice came over the radio again, snapping me out of my strange state of
hyper-awareness.

“I
mark four targets. Repeat, four targets. Over.”

I
keyed my mike. “Copy, four targets in my sights. Sarah, how you lookin’? Over.”

“I
got ‘em, boys. They’re just inside the woods a little ways. I think they’re
arguing or something, over.”

“Okay,
nobody do anything yet.” Gabe said. “We want them to come out into the open. If
we’re lucky, they’ll all come out together. When it comes time, Eric and I will
execute a tandem snipe. Sarah, don’t let any of them get away, just like we
planned. Everybody ready? Over.”

“Ready
to go, over.” I said.

Sarah
keyed in. “Copy, standing by, out.”

I
could not help but wonder what the raiders thought would happen to them when
they woke up this morning. Did it even occur to them that they might die today?
Did excitement at the prospect of having a nice cozy cabin to sleep in tonight
chase away their apprehension? Did they feel even the slightest bit guilty,
looking out over the remains of what they thought was a ruined home and a
slaughtered family? Did it bother them that they might have killed a child?

That
last thought, more than any other, drove away any remaining vestiges of guilt I
might have felt. These people needed to be dealt with, harshly. I began to grow
impatient for the raiders to break cover.

That
was not something I could allow myself to do, I needed to be calm, collected,
and focused. Lives were on the line.

I
eased my finger off the trigger, took a few deep breaths, and waited. A few
minutes later, my patience was rewarded. The four got up from where they knelt
and began to walk toward the edge of the forest. Once out in the meadow, they
fanned out and brought their weapons up in front of them. They all carried rifles
or shotguns, as well as pistols in holsters on their hips.

“Okay,
Eric, here’s the plan.” Gabe said over the radio, “I got Twig and Redbeard, you
take Bulldog and Ben Franklin. Let them get about a hundred yards from the tree
line before you take aim. Over.”

I
slipped my finger back over the trigger, and lined up my sights on Ben Franklin
before responding.

“Ready
when you are, just give the order.” I said. I would have to work fast, Ben was
blocking my view of Bulldog. I would have to drop him first and then try to get
the leader before he could run off.  

A
minute or so later, Gabe came back over the channel. “Okay, on my mark.
Ready…mark.”

The
M110 bucked against my shoulder, sending a military grade 168-grain
7.62-millimeter projectile toward my target at incredible speed. The suppressor
eliminated the flash and most of the noise from the shot. The bullet hit the
raider through his right side just below the armpit, piercing his heart and
both lungs before exiting the other side of his torso in a violent red spray.
He curled in on himself and crumpled to the ground, dropping his weapon and
spewing blood out of his mouth. At almost the same instant, Twig’s chest
exploded backwards leaving a huge gaping hole in its wake as the powerful .338
round from Gabe’s rifle ripped through him. He died before he hit the ground. Redbeard
had all of about a second and a half to stare in horror at the demise of his
comrade before the top half of his head disappeared in a red mist, also
courtesy of Gabe’s marksmanship. Bulldog, unlike his unfortunate cronies, was
not shocked into inaction and bolted for the tree line as soon as the first
round hit. If he had been military once, then he probably had combat experience
and knew exactly what was going on as soon as his group came under fire. He
quickly serpentined back toward the woods as fast as his squat legs could carry
him. I tried to track him with my rifle, but there were too many trees in the
way, I couldn’t get a shot. I let go of the rifle and keyed my radio.