United States Of Apocalypse (24 page)

“Now what? Do we hide?”

“Can’t, we left those guys on the roof completely exposed,” Tynes said, trying to think of something.

“Man, all I wanted was a little damn food, pizza, bag of pretzels, I’m not picky would have taken a damn Twinkie. This was not part of the bargain.”

The gunfire subsided. “They’re coming,” Tynes warned.

“Fantastic,” Mike added sarcastically. “Because I am extremely pissed off right now.”

“No crazy shit, you hear me? That crap only works in the movies.” Tynes told him.

“Fine. But we’re standing in the middle of the hallway. I’m thinking we should move.” Mike followed Tynes back toward the door. “I didn’t mean that way!”

“We can’t yield this ground.”

“Remember that whole thing about being dead?” Mike asked.

“It’s not just about us anymore. Open the door and stay to the side.”

Mike pulled the door open quickly, Tynes’ rifle sounded as if it had been fired using a suppressor. The man coming up the stairs had been so close, the muzzle had pushed into his jacket, reducing the noise and muzzle flash. Mike shoved the man’s barrel down before he could get a few rounds into Tynes.

“Fuck!” Mike yelled, shaking his hand. The barrel was scalding hot, he could smell the top layers of his flesh as they flash-fried.

Tynes riddled the man with three more rounds at close distance, flinging him back into those that followed. Mike fumbled to get his rifle back into position, his trigger finger searing with pain. He turned to see a plume of red blow off Tynes’ shoulder as he absorbed a round. Tynes screamed while he fired. Mike edged his way into a sliver of opening in the doorframe and started firing. They’d caught Pembroke’s men off guard. Even though they outmanned Tynes and Mike five to one, their attackers retreated back down the stairs.

“You all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tynes asked.

“Come on, let’s get back upstairs while we have a chance.” Mike was nearly embedded in Tynes’ backside as he kept turning to check their six.

“It’s Tynes and Mike!” he shouted as they reached the second floor landing. “Don’t shoot!”

“You do realize they have no idea who Mike and Tynes are, right?” Mike asked.

“Hadn’t thought of that. Think I pulled a muscle in my shoulder or something.” Tynes complained.

“Good guys! We’re the good guys! Don’t shoot!” Mike shouted.

A head poked through the top floor door. A hand waved them up. “Hurry up!”

Mike pushed on Tynes, who wobbled a bit.

“He’s shot,” Private Delano said as they came through the door.

“Mike, you’re shot?” Tynes turned to look.

“He’s talking about you. Come on, let’s get on the other side of this wall and we’ll take a look at it.”

Tynes sat so Mike could see the wound. “Not too nasty, in and out, but you’re bleeding pretty badly.”

“Here,” Delano said, tossing a medic bag around the corner.

“Hey, is there any morphine in here?” Mike asked.

“Is he in that much pain?” Delano asked.

“Him? I doubt it. I was asking for me.”

“You watch the door. I’ll tend to his wound.”

“Deal,” Mike said. The stairwell lit up, and Mike realized that either the man he’d shot in the foot was back for round two or someone else had literally picked up the torch. “Who brings a flamethrower to a war? Asshole.” Mike snuck back onto the third floor landing in a low crawl. He stuck his head over the precipice to look down. He was met with the fumes of melting paint. “Who needs morphine?” His head swam from the toxic mixture he’d inhaled. When things cooled down, two more gunmen rushed inside the stairwell. Mike was fairly confident they couldn’t see him, but he pulled back slightly anyway. He could hear their quick breaths and equipment clinking as they ascended.

He peeked over, slowly moving his weapon into position. There were now three gunmen and his new best friend, Left Foot Larry and his flamethrower. Mike was looking down directly at two white tanks full of propellant. He didn’t think about the consequences, he just got his barrel over the lip, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The first shot grazed the wand, but the second ripped through the aluminum tank that contained what appeared to be a homemade mixture of napalm. A mushroom-shaped fireball came up the stairwell like it was a chimney. Screams of men burning alive forced Mike from the stairs. He was followed by the smell of hair and clothing burnt beyond recognition. He was not proud of what he’d done, but he was secure in the knowledge that it would be a good, long time before someone tried to come up those stairs again.

“How is he?” Mike asked about Tynes.

“Mean as a viper, but he’ll live.”

“Pity.” Mike went back to the roofline.

Delano just shook his head.

“Should have left him in jail.” Tynes told the medic.

“Jail?”

“Yeah, they caught him having sex with cats.”

“You’re good to go,” Delano said, finishing the dressing. He wanted to be as far away as possible from these two.

Tynes got up with a grunt, grabbed his weapon, and went over to Mike. Delano kept watch on the door. Thick tendrils of smoke were pouring out.

“I’m good,” Tynes said when he saw the look of concern on Mike’s face.

“You might be, but it’s not looking good down there.”

Dump trucks had pushed fencing down in a half dozen different locations. There were nearly as many of Pembroke’s men inside and approaching the compound as there were National Guardsmen. Gun battles raged throughout the entire area. In a few incidents, it was hand-to-hand combat.

“We’re getting low on ammo,” Corporal Hernandez said, opening the last of the ammunition cans. “Make it last.” The roof defenders were down to six; three had been killed in action and three more would join them soon enough without medical help. Mike grabbed the magazines out of the rifles of the men that were no longer using them.

“We’ll get you help as soon as we can,” Mike told one of the men who had been shot through the collarbone. His arm hung down uselessly by his side, and he was in a great deal of pain.

“I don’t want to die up here.”

“None of us do,” Mike told him truthfully.

The trucks had broken through, but Pembroke’s men were having a hard time gaining any more ground. The Guard dug in to their defensive positions. It was a stalemate. Pembroke was losing men at an alarming rate, but he seemed to have an endless supply of them. Eventually, the Guard positions would run out of ammunition, and then their locations would fall like dominos. Like a sniper hidden in the trees, Mike picked out targets and took well-placed shots, dealing death one projectile at a time. In a war that was fought by tossing as many bullets into the air as possible, he was a chilling reminder of how effective and deadly a slower pace could be.

Mike detached himself as best he could from the reality of what he was doing. Rounds burst through heads and chests of the enemy, sending them spiraling to the ground in sprawled heaps of dead flesh. Thirty-eight cents each...the chunks of lead were extinguishing the hopes and dreams of everyone they came into contact with—overwhelming, unyielding, and without prejudice.

Corporal Hernandez had stopped shooting to watch Mike and decided he could be of better use supplying Mike with fresh magazines. His withering attack had been enough to force Pembroke’s men away from the building and for those in the lobby to push for another assault in the stairwell, so that the whispered name of the “assassin,” as he was becoming known, could be killed. Night was rapidly approaching, and the corridor leading down looked like the opening to a much darker place than this world could summon. Delano had waved over some help when he heard someone shuffling in the stairwell. Corporal Hernandez had tossed three grenades inside, all of them missing what was left of the railing. The resulting explosion shook the building, instantly shredding the seven men that had the unfortunate luck to have been inside.

The sun was just beginning to set when an old air raid siren sounded off in the distance. Pembroke’s men looked confused at first, and then the word was passed. It was the call to pull back. They’d been so sure that this skirmish would be over within a few hours, they hadn’t even discussed this contingency. Sporadic fire continued as the men withdrew, but the Guard seemed happy just to let them go and didn’t waste ammo on their retreating backs. Mike headed for the stairs, not even stopping to look to see if anyone was still in there.

“Where’s he going in such a hurry?” Corporal Hernandez asked Tynes.

“He thinks he has a date.” Tynes went to catch up.

Mike ignored the charred bodies as best he could on his way down.

“Mike, hold up. You don’t know if everyone is gone or not.” As if on cue, they heard the approach of men running toward their position. They were halfway down the stairs when the bright beam of a flashlight penetrated the murkiness. Mike shielded his eyes when the light blinded him.

“Huh, didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Good to see you as well, Sergeant. You’ve got three men up there who could really use some help.”

Mike walked out of the building, bummed two smokes off a man who couldn’t stop trembling. He offered one to Tynes. They both leaned against the building.

“Okay, I now understand how military men get PTSD,” Tynes said.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be right in the head again,” Mike replied.

Mike had set himself up for Tynes to take verbal advantage, but he couldn’t. He knew Mike was hurting, and kicking someone when they were down was not quite as much fun.

“I...I sort of wish you’d never picked me up from the jail that day.”

“Mike, odds are you’d be dead right now.”

“That might be better.”

“You’d never get a date with the sergeant.”

“Yeah, as if she’d ever want to.”

“Want to what?” Sergeant Yonts was fast approaching.

Mike was silent.

“My men told me what you did, what you both did. I cannot thank you enough.”

“You and the colonel?” Mike asked.

“Oh, just a small dressing down, not the first time I’ve been yelled at. I imagine it won’t be the last.”

“Seems like you and Mike have a lot in common.” Tynes strode off to help with the massive effort of restoring the defenses. In an ironic twist, the very trucks used to batter the defenses were used to replace the missing fences. They were pushed, pulled, or towed into position, then the tires were flattened so that the behemoths could not be easily moved. Tynes was sure that never in the history of warfare had a wall of dump trucks ever been used to thwart an enemy.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. The colonel wants to see you.”

“I need to get washed up before I get shot?”

“Shot?”

“Yeah, firing squad.”

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t going to happen.” The sergeant led him back to her barracks room. “There are towels under the sink. You’ve got five minutes of lukewarm water; use it wisely.”

She handed him a lighter so he could light the five candles she had strategically placed around the small bathroom. His face looked gaunt as he peered into the mirror. Dark black circles lined his eyes. He shivered when the water hit his skin and then couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if it was from the temperature of the water or the coldness in his soul. He was staring at his toes as swirls of dirt, debris, and blood began to flow around his feet. He cleaned off as best he could, never even realizing when the water had turned from tepid to torturous. It felt like tiny ice daggers slicing into his flesh, but he welcomed it.

“What are you doing?” Sergeant Yonts had come in. “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes; I took a shower and got dressed already. You’re going to freeze to death.”

Mike said nothing as she grasped his hand and pulled him out from the stream of water. Mike stood there, not really paying attention to anything as she toweled him off, his mind nearly as numb as his body.

“Got to admit, Mr. Talbot, I’ve never done this before, and if I had, I would have expected a bigger reaction.” She smiled when she poked her head around front and looked down. Mike turned so they were facing each other. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her tight, his mouth finding hers. She stiffened for the briefest of seconds and then let her lips enjoy the sensation of the kiss. They stayed that way a long while as the heat of life spread back through Michael’s mind and body, thawing the frozen parts of him.

The sergeant finally pushed away. “Um...yeah. Um...we should see the colonel now.”

Mike caressed the side of her face and turned as if he were getting ready to leave.

“Mike, it would probably be better if you went with clothes on.”

Ten minutes later, Mike was standing in front of the colonel.

“Got to admit, son, before the festivities of the day had started, I was planning on throwing you in the stockade. Now, I’m hearing from my men that you’re nearly a goddamned war hero. Wouldn’t make much sense placing you there now.”

“So you’re not going to shoot me?” was all Mike could think to ask.

“Shoot you? No, while I’m certainly not going to make you a leader of men, I am offering you a position of rank, and before you go and protest, this is a non-negotiable offer. We’re on more even ground than we were earlier, but you still dug us a mighty deep hole, son, and you need to do your part to work our way out of it.”

“And what of Officer Tynes?”

“That hasn’t changed; he’s free to go. Although I’ve heard about his exploits as well, and I would much rather he stayed. Seems that this war has just begun, and we’re going to need all the help we can get. One more thing...lovely girl, that Sergeant Yonts, isn’t she?”

“Colonel?”

“She’s my niece, Michael. Tread carefully.”

“
Fuck
,” Mike mumbled. “Yes sir.”

M
ike thought
he would not sleep at all that night. Between the battle and the kiss, he figured he had enough adrenaline flowing through him to stay awake for a week. Funny thing adrenaline, though, once it stops being produced, the body crashes quickly. He slept under the stars on the roof, and before he could do much more than think over the day, he was fast asleep.