Transformation: Zombie Crusade VI (37 page)

“Maddy,” Gracie called out. The brave fighter looked back with a haunted expression that nearly broke Gracie’s façade. “I’ve never told you that I love you. You guys are the only family I have left.”

“This isn’t the end,” Maddy replied without conviction.

Gracie nodded with understanding. “Just sayin . . .”

Maddy quickly covered the short distance to her friend and hugged her fiercely. “You know what Jack would say . . .”

Gracie stepped back and smiled. “Let’s kill ‘em all.”

“Sounds good to me,” Maddy called out over her shoulder as she headed back to her troops.

After Maddy had disappeared from sight, Gracie radioed a simple message to all her commanders: prepare for imminent combat. All planning was complete; everything that happened now would be a reaction to what the enemy did after first contact. She realized that even if the battalion was able to kill every hunter that came into range, an even greater number of flesh-eaters would still be coming. Dusk was ten hours away, so she would have to order a retreat an hour before sunset; the line would crumble under darkness. But in her heart she knew they wouldn’t be able to hold out that long; she’d seen what happened when irresistible force met a moveable object.

The ominous-looking Blackhawks were filling the sky to the southwest, and Gracie was certain that there were now more of the choppers than she’d first thought. She briefly considered ordering an immediate retreat, then did some quick, new-world math in her head. If only a thousand civilians were saved every hour that the battalion could gain for them here, humanity would be gaining human lives every minute beyond the first hour of fighting. Gracie knew she was underestimating the value of their sacrifice, probably by more than ninety percent, but even the low numbers she used justified a stand here and now. She knew of no better location where they could try to stop the hunter-advance, and certainly there was no place where they’d have the time to prepare the defenses they now waited behind.
No
, she decided,
we fight it out here, for better or worse.

The trench soaked with fuel stretched further up the slope than Gracie had thought possible when the plan was first proposed, but she knew that hunters would be able to flank her force on the right. Two squads of infantry had been placed on the peak above where the trench ended, but sooner or later they would be pushed back. She knew from experience that the vanguard of the horde would initially seek the path of least resistance, and that would lead them directly into the mouth of the cannon arrayed diagonally across the narrow valley. But as the succeeding waves of flesh-eaters pushed forward, their sheer weight would inevitably force hunters into and over the obstacles waiting for them. The creatures on the edges of the horde, however, would fan out to each side of the battalion’s defenses. On the left, water obstacles ensured that the monsters would have to move away from the soldiers for miles before they could continue their northward trek, but on the right, the hunters would face a series of steep mountains beyond the fire-trench. Gracie was certain that most of the flesh-eaters would follow the canyon that meandered off to the northwest, where, she hoped, most of them would become lost amid the numerous valleys and peaks. Unfortunately, she knew that some of the beasts would almost certainly manage to climb straight up and over the slope above the trench; the climbers worried her the most.

Nineteen of Zach’s best troops were up there waiting to kill any hunters that scaled the steep hill beneath them, but Gracie knew that it was only a matter of time until some of the flesh-eaters managed to get behind the thin human line. Once that happened, the fight would devolve into an everyone-for-themselves melee that could only result in annihilation for the small band of soldiers stationed above the main line of resistance. She looked up toward the peak and shook her head in frustration. The battalion’s numbers and resources were limited; they simply couldn’t hold every weak spot in force.
Nine hours
, she told herself as she turned to walk toward the command vehicle.
Nine hours and we’re out of here
.

Zach watched the advancing hunters with a mixture of dread and amazement. He’d seen some massive hordes in the east as he earned the dubious distinction of being one of the few Allied soldiers to participate in every major battle of the campaign. At the bridge over the Ohio he nearly died when a hundred thousand flesh-eaters poured over defenses Jack had thought would last days. The walls were compromised in minutes in what was the most thorough defeat Jack’s Hoosiers had suffered in the war up to this point. But lessons were learned during the ignominious fight that eventually led to changes in tactics which helped the allied human forces defeat Barnes and destroy his army at the Battle of Vicksburg. Zach knew that the Black Battalion was the most lethal force to take the field against the hunters since the world’s collapse, but regardless of how many monsters the troops killed in the next few hours, they would inevitably be overrun.

His musings were finally interrupted by Logan’s uncharacteristically nervous voice at his side. “So, you’ve beaten forces like this back east?”

“We lost a few, but won the big one at Vicksburg.”

“From what I understand, you were behind a huge-ass wall,” Logan said coldly. “Eight hundred men in the open can’t stop what’s coming this way.”

Zach shrugged. “Mountains and walls aren’t all that different, generally speaking.”

Logan looked at Zach as if he’d lost his mind. “How do you figure? Can you and your boys move these mountains?”

“We shouldn’t have to if your guys do their job. Killing with a cannon should be easy compared to sticking cold steel into the faces of hunters all day.”

Logan was pissed. “Don’t ever question the abilities of my troops. You’re gonna see my men put more hunters on the ground than your damn infantry could ever dream of killing.”

“I hope so,” Zach returned, lovingly stroking the blood-stained handle of his war hammer,“but we dream big”

“We’ll revisit this conversation when the fight’s over and done with,” Logan promised. “Just so you know, I’ll be expecting an apology before you kiss my ass.” Captain Logan turned and stomped away.

Terry was serving as Zach’s aide, and he’d listened to the exchange with wide eyes. “My momma used to get me to do all kinds of stuff with that tactic; you’d think a man Logan’s age would know better.”

“He does,” Zach explained. “He just isn’t expecting a dumb teenager to play him. In a situation like this, the main thing is to make sure that his anger trumps his fear. Jack Smith taught me that. His men need to see him pissed off and looking for a fight.”

Terry hooked his thumb toward a line of guns to the left. “Hear him yelling over there?”

Zach nodded. “Those guys are gonna be deadly.”

“When will we start firing?”

“When the edge of the horde is three hundred yards out, Logan’s guns will pour canister into ‘em to force ‘em into the trench. Once we light it up we can focus all our fire on the passage between the reservoir and the flames. Then, thousands more are gonna climb over the dead and keep comin’. That’s when the fighting starts.” He fixed the young soldier with an intense expression. “When that time comes, you stay glued to my right side. Got it?”

Terry was obviously scared, but there was also determination in his eyes. “Live or die, I’m with you, Zach, I’m with you.”

A convoy unlike anything seen in North America outside of the desert southwest rode out through the gates of the Red River Depot. Jack had seventy combat-tested soldiers riding west in fifty tricked out Desert Fighting Vehicles. The buggies could reach eighty miles an hour on clear roads, and Jack intended to follow Luke’s route west as fast as possible. John and Tina were appointed squad leaders, in addition to Carter, who’d managed to keep T.C. at his side.              Jack didn’t feel guilty about commandeering the soldiers or putting the Red River Depot salvage plan on hold. Vicksburg now had over a thousand soldiers and even more people who could man the walls if necessary, and Utah was either in imminent danger or had already been devastated. Jack had no way to know if Luke and his battalion had made it to Utah yet, but his instincts told him to fly for the state with all possible speed. General Carlson had provided ninety percent of the troops that had defeated Barnes in the east, and Jack would not ignore his brothers-in-arms at the moment of their greatest peril.

As the convoy roared across the Louisiana state line into Texas, Jack considered the troops he was riding with. The soldiers were typical, hunter-killing infantry; they wore Kevlar-laced racing gear, snake-proof boots, and gloves and helmets no infected could bite through. Their weapons were varied, depending on strength and personal skill, but all of them carried a pole arm of some sort. Most carried the increasingly popular halberd that could be broken down into two, four-feet-long pieces and reassembled before battle.

One squad was equipped with shotguns. Jack’s original force composed of Hoosiers and other Midwesterners the year before had learned the value of having a few shotguns on hand. Loaded with double-ought buck, the weapons could scythe an entire rank of charging hunters and gain the troops with edged weapons a few seconds respite. T.C. still had the Kel Tec he’d used in Norco, so he was technically attached to the shotgun squad, though Carter insisted on keeping his nephew nearby.

CHAPTER 31

Wyatt’s troopers had done their work, scouting the terrain to the south until sighting the horde. Now that the hunters were close, the cavalrymen led their mounts carefully through the defenses and tied their horses to posts positioned several hundred yards to the rear. Then, the soldiers blended in with the gunners and spearmen along the entire line. The troopers had cross-trained with the artillery and infantry during the trek west, but Gracie still didn’t want Wyatt’s men holding a section of the defensive-works as a unit. Some of the horse-soldiers grumbled at fighting on the ground when first told of the battle plan, but after seeing the size of the enemy force bearing down on them they were glad to have experienced ground-troops at their sides.

Wyatt walked up behind Maddy as the young captain was silently checking the armor of the soldiers next to her in the line. When she noticed Wyatt, she asked flippantly, “You ready to get bloody?”

“As long as it isn’t my own, sure.”

Maddy squinted at Wyatt. “Aren’t you a history guy like Luke?”

“I guess you could say that,” the middle-aged cavalryman responded. “Why do you ask?”

“I hope Luke’s ideas about war-wagons work as well for us as they did for those Hussites he was talking about.”

Wyatt nodded. “They’ll work.”

“They’d better, or we’re completely screwed,” Maddy warned.

A short distance away, Gracie felt as if she was about to jump out of her skin. She kept hoping that Luke would appear, but in her heart she knew that she’d be facing this battle without him. The waiting was nearly intolerable as the horde seemed to almost stall a half mile out. In reality, the forward ranks of hunters were trotting as the hovering helicopters forced them toward the waiting humans. The flesh-eaters were quiet, or any sounds they might be making were swallowed up in the pounding of the Blackhawk rotors. Gracie figured that the monsters would howl soon enough, once they realized there was fresh meat enmeshed with the line of guns and machines to their front. By then, of course, the hunters’ cries would be drowned out by the roar of cannon. Logan had reported in at each radio check, but now he was splitting his gaze between Gracie’s position and the closing enemy force. When Gracie fired her flare-gun, the artillery would unleash hell on the monsters.

The men and women anticipating battle were strangely motionless inside cages, Hummer-firing-ports, and reinforced screens connecting the vehicles. Shotguns and crossbows were locked and loaded, stacks of pikes and spears close at hand; everything had been double and triple-checked. Gracie knew what it was like to be standing in that line, and she was surprised to find herself missing the reassurance of trusted fighters at her side as she steeled herself for the looming clash. Command had its own rewards, especially the deep satisfaction she felt when her plans and decisions resulted in victory. Gracie knew that the opposite was also true.

Logan was certain that the hunters bearing down on his position were all coming directly at him, and that they were far closer than three hundred meters. Finally, mercifully, he saw Gracie lift her arm and shoot the flare-gun. His crews had been awaiting the signal to fire as anxiously as their commander, and fifty guns fired nearly simultaneously with a ground-shaking thunderclap that literally took the breath from the waiting soldiers. The effect of the volley on the horde was simply devastating. The forward ranks of hunters were blown into pieces that rained down on the monsters pushing from behind. Logan, and most of his soldiers, shouted in joy as they watched the mass of flesh-eaters morph into a spray of blood and body parts as the deadly canister shredded the beasts. Then, the human shouts of triumph turned to cries of alarm as they watched the horde stumble over the corpses and gore without a moment’s hesitation.

“Reload!” was shouted by crew-leaders up and down the line, and Logan noted with satisfaction that his troops immediately reverted to their training and automatically turned their focus from the horrors in front of them to their guns. Thirty seconds later the first of the reloaded cannon fired into the horde, followed by the rippling roar of the rest of the guns discharging their fearsome loads. Huge swaths of hunters met the fate of their brethren who’d been mowed down by the first volley, and almost imperceptibly, the following ranks drifted to the right and left.

Gracie observed the effects of the guns with savage delight, easily pushing aside any feelings of sympathy for the monsters who were humans just a year earlier. These creatures were coming to kill her troops, her friends, and millions of innocents struggling to evacuate a state that had survived the outbreak only to become the target of Barnes’ latest rage. She estimated that at least two thousand corpses were piled on the ground and highway directly in front of the human position. The mound of dead writhed with the efforts of the wounded to scramble free from the bodies and gore holding them down. Gracie watched as a hunter missing an arm, and trailing intestines from a gaping abdominal wound, managed to struggle to its knees just in time to be trampled by a fresh wave of pack-mates pushing forward with the attack. The new wave was quickly scythed by a hailstorm of lead balls, adding their own flesh and blood to the hideous mound they’d just scaled.

The hunters to Gracie’s left had run right into the freezing waters of the reservoir, hundreds of the beasts flailing away in panic even as they were pushed further into the basin by the weight of the following ranks. Within a few minutes the horde was moving smoothly to the east, avoiding the water but heading away from the human defenses. Helicopters were rushing to the front to try to turn the creatures around, but Gracie knew they would fail; tens of thousands of hunters weren’t easily controlled.

On the right, the horde had pushed into and through the trench filled with fuel and other flammables. Gracie sent her second flare soaring into the sky above the battlefield, the signal to ignite the trap. She was nearly mesmerized by the sight of the flames rushing to life amid the hunters inside the trench, nodding in appreciation of her engineers as the fire danced out of the ditch and through the ranks of creatures who had waded through the fuel moments earlier. Maybe as many as a thousand burning hunters ran from the pillar of flames behind them, only to be mowed down by shotguns forty meters from the vehicles as the infantry finally got into the fight.

As with the reservoir, the weight of the horde continued to push hundreds of hunters to their deaths before the momentum of tens of thousands subtly shifted to either side of this new obstacle. Now hunters began frantically crawling at the slope as they sought a way around the flames to their front. Gracie immediately realized that the trench was a double-edged sword for the battalion. The fire protected a large part of the front and sent flank-attackers into the mountains, but she was shocked by how many of the monsters were now crawling their way toward the two squads waiting to repel them. She had figured on hundreds trying the slope above the flame-trench, but there were thousands of the beasts now headed toward twenty humans. The infantry posted between the ditch and the reservoir were still watching the big guns destroy the hunters trying to reach the line, but she feared that the fight was about to be lost because she’d underestimated the threat to the right flank.

Barnes had spent the first hour of the battle in the cockpit of his “presidential” helicopter, circling above his army of hunters and enjoying the show as they went into action against what looked like a battalion of Utah forces. Remembering that a couple of these enterprising militias had brought down a few of his choppers in the past, he had ordered the pilot to stay at least a half-mile from the front line. Even at that distance, he could see that the troops blocking the highway presented the most highly armored, heavily armed, and obviously mobile unit he had seen since the collapse. The cannon had come as a huge surprise, but he had quickly realized that he shouldn’t have been shocked by this new development. Crude gunpowder wasn’t difficult to manufacture, and sooner or later some survivors were going to figure out how to use rudimentary black powder in tubes bigger than those provided by deer-hunting muzzleloaders. Sooner had obviously arrived.

The young pilot had apparently just remembered he had stored a set of high-quality binoculars under his seat, keeping his eyes on the controls as he reached down and grabbed the case with his left hand before offering them to his president. When Barnes got his first close-up look at the soldiers fighting his army of infected, he wondered to himself why they were all wearing black, in possession of all-black vehicles. Only their edged weapons were gleaming in the desert sunlight. Remembering that Andi was in the bay wearing a headset, he keyed the mike and asked her about the unidentified force he was intent upon destroying.

“I don’t have the view you have up there,” she smartly answered. “But from what I’ve been able to make out, those guys are kicking your ass at the moment.”

“I didn’t ask you how the fight was going,” Barnes had to work to keep his temper in check. “I asked if you knew this unit.”

“No,” she replied, “but my guess is that they’re some sort of elite, quick-reaction force. Those cannon are amazing!”

“Merely delaying the inevitable,” he sighed with impatience and switched off the mike. Barnes pointed to the west and gave the pilot a thumbs up, signaling that he was ready to head to the forward command post until the highway was clear. As the chopper turned west, he looked back toward the battle one last time. The human line was still holding, but Barnes could see that his host stretched to the horizon. The monsters were finally massing into a phalanx that he knew would be unstoppable. For now, he would land and enjoy his lunch; dinner might be delayed as he watched Utah die.

Jack didn’t allow the convoy to stop in Denison, or any other settlement they passed through during the long night. They had nine hundred miles to travel in order to reach Utah, and everyone felt the need to get there as soon as humanly possible. Brief breaks for the troops to relieve themselves and switch drivers were allowed several times along the route, but mostly it was pedal to the metal across the vast stretches of West Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. Finally, they crossed into Utah just after sunrise and took the shortest path to I-15. Jack, along with many others in the convoy, prayed they were on time as their tires kicked up Utah dust in the clear, early morning air.

Half an hour later, Jack called for a halt on the outskirts of Hurricane. With the engines quiet he could easily hear the rumble of the guns a few miles to the west. He quickly called his inner circle over to study maps of the area and try to figure out what was going on without leading the convoy into the middle of a massive battle without knowing who, what, where, and when. There was no way to answer all of those questions, but John’s practiced eye quickly offered an analysis of what was happening ahead of them. “Somebody, maybe Luke’s battalion, is trying to block the highway where this reservoir is only a mile from the mountains. Any defender would have a lake on the left, and a mountain range on the right; it’s a damn good position.”

Jack agreed, but suspected that if they circled Hurricane and the reservoir to the south, they might end up behind the attacking army. “We need to take this highway 17 to the north until it intersects with I-15, then we can circle in behind the fight and get a better idea of how we can help.”

Carter had been fiddling with a radio. “I can hear garbled transmissions on this thing; I’m guessin’ that if we get close enough, maybe line-of-sight, we might regain radio contact with friendlies over there.”

“Keep trying,” Jack encouraged, “but right now get everyone back in their vehicles and let’s go find out what the hell is going on.”

Gracie climbed down from her post and looked around to see who was available to join her in reinforcing the threatened flank. Courtney rushed over and handed her a handheld radio. “This is Captain Seifert-Smith!” Gracie barked.

The voice was difficult to pick up, but it was unmistakable. “Gracie, this is Jack. We’re two miles out with an infantry company on DPVs. We can hear the guns. Where do you need us?”

Gracie’s first response was to wonder if this call was really taking place. She looked around for a moment, until Courtney tugged on her sleeve and whispered. “Send them up the mountain.”

Gracie nodded at the girl. “Jack, we need you on the right flank, up on the slopes above us. You’re about to come up on Silver Reef Road; there’s a café by the same name on the left of the interstate. You need to take the road to the right and follow it as it runs along the base of the mountain. Just keep riding to the smoke and the guns. If you can get up the slope on the DPVs, great; if not, you’re gonna have to climb.”

“Turning onto the road now,” Jack replied. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Where’s Luke?”

“Not here right now—he’s following one of his feelings. I’ll tell you everything later.”

“Okay, Gracie— just hang on . . .”

They drove their DPV’s off the road and up snaking trails that only experienced eyes could make out. As they approached the first crest that formed the ridge leading to where Zach’s squads were fighting, Jack finally decided that they could take the DPVs no higher and leapt from his machine before it stopped. The rest of the troops followed his example, and soon some of the younger men raced past him. When Jack was finally certain he couldn’t take another step, the men ahead began to disappear over the steepest part of the slope, and a minute later Jack joined them on the ridge. Hands on his knees as he labored for the oxygen his muscles were screaming for, he looked out toward the forlorn hope that Zach’s isolated troops now represented. Scores of hunters had fought their way past the line of brave fighters; the survivors now standing shoulder to shoulder in a small circle of no more than a dozen men. Luckily for the battalion in the valley, the flesh-eaters that had gained the crest were more interested in finishing off and devouring the soldiers still on their feet. Jack could see that many hunters were piled onto the men who’d already fallen; sacrifices that currently halved the number of monsters attacking the living.