Verge of Extinction (Apex Predator Book 3) (6 page)

The car behind the truck began to slowly roll to its left.  Jackson was forced to hit the brakes just before it made contact with the truck’s rear bumper.  SSgt Brown helped push the car backwards as Jackson jerked the wheel to the right.  After a few minutes the blue Mustang had been pushed 25 yards into the sand.

Mike and Kerry were able to do the same with the car in front of the truck.  The truck followed the Toyota into the sand.  They moved to the next lane.  This lane was easier.  All three cars had working batteries and they were able to push them into the sand.

Fifteen minutes later, they had cleared a path that ran north to south through the traffic jam.  They then set about finding a suitable vehicle.  One of the vehicles they had moved was a bright orange Jeep Rubicon with oversized tires.  SSgt Brown thought it would make a good scout vehicle.  It would do well over rough terrain, and it sat high enough to offer some protection and provide visibility.  He commandeered it for himself.

Jen commandeered a large Ford F150.  It was black, and had four doors.  She had SSgt Brown and Jackson try to reach her as she lay in the bed of the truck.  Neither soldier’s hands came within two feet of her. She decided that would be a plus if they got surrounded by the undead.

Jackson, Theresa, and SSgt Brown climbed into the Jeep.  The others climbed into the truck.  Kerry chose to ride in the truck bed.  She told them she needed to feel the wind on her face.  They didn’t argue.

It did feel good to have the wind in her hair she thought.  For the past month it seemed like she’d been locked in a car, or a clinic, or…  A lump formed in her throat as she thought about a sporting goods store they had been trapped in during those first horrible days.  She shook her head.  No!  This is nice and I’m not going to ruin it.  The wind was cool, but not cold.  She knew it should turn cold in the next few weeks, but it was still only late fall.

The sky was clear with wisps of clouds.  The sun was getting higher and higher in the sky.  It hadn’t reached its apex, but it was high enough to start warming things.  The shadow under the truck was smaller than it was when she first noticed the giant black monster.

A sudden bump threatened to throw her to the bed of the truck.  She could see the orange Jeep bouncing over several others as it bounced up a curb.  She widened her stance and bent her knees in preparation for the bumps.  She was still tossed about the bed of the truck, this time falling hard on her backside.  A jolt of pain shot from her butt all the way to her shoulder, and her rifle skittered across the bed and slammed into the tailgate.

As soon as she regained her feet, she slapped the roof of the cab.  “I’m ready to come back in,” she yelled.  Hearing the slamming on the roof and fearing something was wrong, Mike slammed on the brakes.  Kerry was only inches from slamming her face into the metal roof of the truck.  Shaking it off, she grabbed her rifle and leapt from the bed of the pickup.

Mike didn’t wait for an explanation.  The orange Jeep was pulling away from them.  They hadn’t noticed the truck had stopped.  As soon as the redhead had shut her door, he floored it.  The truck lurched forward. 

“Where is everyone?” Kerry asked.  Jen looked at her with a confused look.  “I mean, where are all the zombies?  You saw how many cars are on that road.  There should be a few zombies at least wandering around here.  This place looks like a ghost town.”  She was right, thought Mike.  This place was empty.

They continued paralleling the highway for a few more miles.  Soon there were no houses or businesses to their right.  The Jeep cut across a field and then turned east.  This road was free of cars.   Jackson drove the Jeep down the center of the road.

Suddenly he saw the sign he was looking for.  There on the corner was a blue sign with a capital H with an arrow pointing north.  Again the street was empty.  Jackson didn’t like it either.  He looked at SSgt Brown. The older man simply shrugged his shoulder and pointed in the direction of the hospital.

A few blocks in front of them, the left lane and the two southbound lanes were packed with cars.  The northbound right lane was totally empty as far as SSgt Brown could see.  He told Jackson to stop before entering the bottleneck.  He looked to the younger man, shrugging his shoulders.

Jackson held a finger to his mouth and then pointed at his ear.  Suddenly SSgt Brown heard it.  It sounded like a car horn.  It was coming from up ahead.

SSgt Brown stood in his seat in an attempt to see what was going on.  He could see a pair of school busses parked across the four lanes of traffic.  He told Jackson and Theresa to dismount.  Mike, Jen and Kerry followed suit.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“Those busses didn’t grow there,” Mike answered quickly.  “Someone put up a road block for some reason.”

“Well, let’s take a look,” the big NCO said.

It was Kerry who noticed the ladders first.  She quietly pointed them out to the group.  There, on the end of each bus was a single ladder leading from the roof of the bus to the adjacent building on either side of the road.  Someone had not only constructed a roadblock, but also a bridge between two sides of the street.

SSgt Browns stomach was in knots.  He was about to lead a six man squad, only two of whom had any military training, down a 50 yard bottleneck.  At the end of which stood a school bus with a ladder leading to…  He didn’t even know what, or who.

“Jackson, you and Kerry hunker down between these two cars and give us some over watch.  You see anyone looks like they’re gonna start shooting, light their asses up.”  He led the other four down the right side of the street, hugging the building.  At least if they ran into trouble, they could only be engaged from across the street.

When he reached the bus, he saw that the bus was not intended to be a roadblock.  There were three or four feet between the bumper and the wall.  This bus was simply put in place to act as a bridge.  Smart.

He slipped around the bus.  He was astonished by what he saw.  Someone had made a giant circle of cars.  There must have been ten of them in a giant circle, bumpers touching.  Two of the cars had makeshift ramps leading over their hoods and into the circle.  With no ramps on the inside, it was obvious the circle was meant to contain the dead while allowing the living to move relatively freely.

Jen gasped.  The circle was tightly packed with undead.  Most of them were still moving.  They hadn’t seen the group, but it would only be a matter of time.  The four stood there, astonished.

“They’re not gonna hurt you!” said a loud male voice from across the street.  Startled, the group immediately ducked for cover, weapons at the ready.  “Now, you don’t want to do that,” the voice told them, more serious this time.  SSgt Brown couldn’t see the man.

“We don’t want any trouble,” SSgt Brown called out.

“We don’t either,” the man responded.  “Just come on out and safe those weapons.”  SSgt Brown thought about it for a minute.  They were already in the trap.  If these guys wanted to kill them, they were dead already.  He thought about Jackson and Kerry.  Maybe they don’t know about them.

“Alright,” he shouted.  “Comin’ out!”  He stood and walked from behind the bus, rifle pointed at the ground.  The other three also complied.

A large bald man, SSgt Brown thought he looked to be mid-forties, stood.  He was wearing the blue camouflage of the US Navy.  He slung his M-16 over his shoulder as he stood.  His smile put the group at ease.  “The name’s Roy,” he announced.  “Who might you be?”

SSgt Brown identified himself and introduced the other three.  He made sure to add his rank and unit affiliation.  He thought it might give him some authority.

“Staff Sergeant huh,” Roy asked said.  “I guess that means you outrank me.  I’m only a Petty Officer Third Class.  That’s an E-5 for you army guys.”  He turned to an unseen person on the roof for a moment.  “So what rank is your friend back there?  Or did he steal the uniform from someone?”  He pointed towards Jackson and Kerry.

He swore to himself.  “That’s Private Jackson.  He’s one of mine.  The other is Kerry.”

“Well, why don’t you have Ms. Kerry and Mr. Jackson join the party.  We don’t want them to be left out.”

“Jackson,” the NCO barked.  “You and Kerry are good to come up.”  SSgt Brown noticed that the zombies in the middle of the cars had begun moaning loudly at them.  He also noticed that there were several zombies that had wandered off of a side street and were shambling towards them.  “Would you mind if we continued our conversation off the street?  It’s starting to get a little crowded down here.”

Roy met them at the top of the ladder.  He was taller than SSgt Brown, and had a thick mustache.  SSgt Brown couldn’t help but ponder the difference between Army and Navy grooming standards.  He unconsciously rubbed his own face.  The five day old stubble made him chuckle at his last thought.

He held a hand out to the sailor.  “Dave Brown,” he began.  “Thanks for inviting us in.”

“Roy Benton,” the other man replied.  “Of course you are welcome.”

SSgt Brown could see something in the other man’s eyes.  Was it suspicion or anger?  Whatever it was, the man was not as pleased to see interlopers on his land as he led them to believe.  He couldn’t blame the man.

He glanced around the rooftop.  There were seven other men with civilian hunting rifles on the roof he was standing on.  Across the street, he could see four more.  It was a good thing they hadn’t started shooting.  His people would have been mown down in a matter of seconds, even with Jackson and Kerry covering them.

Roy led them wordlessly down a ladder into the store below.  There, they found another three dozen survivors.  Roy introduced everyone, although SSgt Brown knew he wouldn’t remember a single name.  The survivors seemed to be of every shape, color and creed.  There was an older couple, six or seven kids who all looked to be under the age of ten.  There were women and men, husbands and wives, almost all races were represented.

All of the adults were armed with a firearm.  SSgt Brown saw a long row of broom handles leaning against a wall.  Each one topped with what appeared to be the tines of a pitchfork on top.  Beside each one was a piece of wood that stood about two feet.  They all seemed to come from the same few pieces of wood, like they were a table or two at one time.

Upon further interrogation, that is exactly what they were.  Someone had taken several tables and fashioned them into shields.  Then they had taken all of the broom handles from the closest hardware store and produced spears.  Roy told them that there were enough spears and shields to outfit each adult in the Haven twice.

Roy also showed them the latest weapon to come from the Haven’s resident weapons designer.  The man’s name was Carl.  Carl had been an aircraft engineer for 40 years.  He had retired to the Gulf Coast last year.  Before that he had helped design some of the best combat aircraft this country had ever built.  Today Carl was fashioning something resembling a short sword.

He proudly showed the group how he would hammer and grind lawnmower blades into something that resembled a crude Gladius.  The finished product had about a 15 inch blade, and the hilt was slightly longer than a large man’s hand.  He would wrap the hilt in nylon parachute cord.  He informed them that he would have liked leather, but that was just too hard to come by.

SSgt Brown picked up one of the swords.  It wasn’t too bad.  There was no pummel on the end of the hilt, so the sword’s balance wasn’t all that great.  The tip, however, was very sharp.  And, the edge was razor sharp for about 10 of the 15 inches.  He gave it a tentative swing.  The weight of the tip made the swing more powerful, but less controlled, than he had intended.  He could picture slicing through a zombie’s head with this modern day Gladius.

The old man offered to let SSgt Brown keep the one in his hand.  He thanked the man, but respectfully declined.  “We’re not here for weapons right now,” the NCO told them.  We’re actually on the hunt for medical supplies.”  He spent the next twenty minutes telling the survivors in the Haven about the Island.

“Sounds like you have a lot of mouths to feed,” one of the younger men said after he finished.

“We’re not just feeding folks,” SSgt Brown responded.  “We’re trying to find a place to start over.”

“Well, looks like we got us a place right here.”  This man was older.  His grey stubble and short grey hair told SSgt Brown that he was probably in his late 40’s.  His accent wasn’t southern, more like the Midwest.

Kerry spoke.  “We’re not asking you to leave.  Sergeant Brown was simply explaining why we are here and what we are looking for.”  She looked to the first man to speak.  She liked his rough features and dark hair.  Her voice cracked as she realized he was staring at her.  “We would like to know that we have friends here.”  She quickly looked away from his piercing eyes, the butterflies dancing in her gut.

“So,” began the older man.  “You don’t want to take us in, but you want to pillage our hunting ground?”

“We are most certainly not trying to pillage anything,” Jen retorted.  “We’re trying to find the supplies we need to save lives.”

Kerry put a hand on Jen’s shoulder, quieting her.  “What my friend is saying is that we’re not here to steal from you.  We would like to be friends with the people of the Haven.  We would like to know that the people of the Haven would be willing to work with the people of the Island in order to further our common interests.”