Chapter 27

Chapter 27

How far you can go without destroying from within what you are trying to defend from without?


-Dwight D. Eisenhower





   “Holy shit.” Tom breathed, watching helplessly as Private Sanders was torn apart in a matter of seconds. His gun was aimed at the shaft, but he only had four rounds left, and that was it. He’d fired off every spare magazine he’d brought, and his assault rifle had been lost in the crash.

“He’s gone, there’s nothing we can do for him. Let’s go!” Reese shouted as she fired a short burst from her submachine gun; she was also down to her last load of ammo. Barnes stopped running as he reached them, his boots skidding to a halt on the floor. A look of anger flashed across his face as he slammed his fist down on a small end table. Splinters shot out as the desk cracked; the legs creaking in agony.

“Fuck!” The Sergeant screamed, wrapping his hands around the table and chucking it across the room. The table broke in two as it slammed into a shambler, knocking it to the ground. Tom kept his aim trained on the elevator, the doors closing and opening every few seconds. Ace’s legs were sticking out, preventing the doors from closing. The gun shook in his hands as he rubbed his eyes, he was having trouble focusing on anything.

Barnes regained his composure, his heavy breathing slowing down. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the dead from the stairwell had reached the lobby; hundreds of them started stumbling over their way.

“LaRouge, my gun.” He held out his hand. The pilot spun the handgun in his hands, handing it over to Barnes butt first.

“Sure thing, sir…” He grabbed it and ejected the magazine, counting how many rounds he had left. The gun clicked as he slowly slid it back in, mumbling as he did so.

“Nobody else dies…” Barnes jogged down the lobby, stopping at the right elevator. “Let’s move out!“ He pressed the call button several times, his eyes glued to the horde that was still tearing into Sanders. Tom turned, and caught Withers’ gaze. She gave a slight nod.

“You heard him, let’s go!” Reese yelled, her voice giving off a slight echo in the lobby. The group started making their way over; Tom stumbled forward, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes as his ears rang and vision started to blur. He heard the elevator beep as the doors open, and his head shot up as a howler jumped out and tackled Barnes.

Barnes let out a surprised cry as he was tackled from behind.

“Shit!” Kingston stopped and raised his handgun, his broken arm still limp at his side. The howler let out a shriek of hatred as she clawed at Barnes. Tom’s Taurus waved as he blinked his eyes several times, trying to get off a shot. The woman was a wreck; her skirt was torn, blood leaked from various cuts and tears along her legs. Her blouse was torn open, her chest covered in bite marks. What looked to be once long blonde hair was now a frizzled mess. A large chunk was missing, the white shimmer of her skull visible where someone must have grabbed her by the hair.

Barnes grunted as they rolled across the floor, his handgun now in his hands. Tom flinched as Kingston fired his gun, the explosions with each blast from the gun reverberated throughout the lobby. The howler shrieked as each round slammed into her back.

“Stop!” Barnes yelled as one round went stray, the tile exploding by his face. Barnes raised his own gun, the howler now on top of him. His forearm was held firmly under her chin, her jaws snapping veraciously as he quickly looked over. Tom’s eyes squinted, then widened when he realized Barnes was aiming at him.

“What-” Barnes fired twice, then the slide on his gun slid back; empty. Something slapped against the ground behind him. Looking back, he saw a shambler, two holes in its head.

“Bitch!” Barnes dropped the gun and punched the howler in the face, her grip loosening which gave Barnes the leverage he needed to slip free. He stumbled forward as he got up and ran, the howler already up and running after him.

“Kill it, kill it now!” Barnes screamed as he ran past Tom. He gripped his gun tight, the howler already halving the distancing as she ran towards them. The gun kicked in his hands, the round hit her in the shoulder. She spun around as the round smacked into her, and continued her pursuit as soon as she straightened out.

“Come on…” Tom fired again, completely missing. As he prepared to take another shot, Reese let loose with her submachine gun. Her blouse rippled as the howler flew back and slid across the floor. Tom turned to Reese, perspiration forming on his head as he let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

“That’s two you owe me.”

“Let’s go already!” LaRouge pushed by them and ran over to the elevator, holding his arm in front of it before the doors could close. The howler growled, Tom watch as she slowly began to stand back up; dark fluids flowed out of her multiple gunshot wounds. “Let’s go!” LaRouge stepped into the elevator. Tom jogged forward and entered the shaft, not wanting to spend another moment in the lobby. As the others entered, the howler began the sprint forward. The doors slowly began to close as she neared. He slowly raised his gun, aiming it outside the shaft as the woman snarled and screamed. As the doors creaked and slowly slid closed, Tom heard pounding on the other end.

He lowered the gun as the elevator slowly began to ascend, wondering how the hell he’d managed to survive this long, and wondering how much longer his luck would hold out.





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Rex blew smoke from his nose as he overlooked the city hours later. The fires raged on, buildings crumbled as the skyline was slowly becoming consumed by black smoke. As the hours passed, he heard less and less gunfire and screams. Now, the moans of the dead filled the air. Barnes grimaced as he took in another puff of smoke, his mind racing.

The military holdup was supposed to be at the Browns stadium, but how many troops were left? He’d already lost one helicopter and two good men today, and was sure that a firefight would only bring an end to more lives.

“Or mine.” He flicked the cigarette over the roof, watching it flutter down to the ground. At this point, Rex didn’t really care what happened to him. What else did he have to live for? Protecting Taft’s sorry ass? He’d already lost his Cindy to him…

“I’m going to make damn sure he eats a bullet before my time is up.’ Barnes muttered as he turned away from the city. Looking back, he saw the others right where he’d left them. LaRouge was napping in the cockpit, his aviators slightly hanging off his nose. Reese was mending a sort of makeshift sling for Kingston, who was twitching his face every time she wrapped the bandage around his arm. Mathews was sitting was his back to the chopper, his head leaning against it and his arms folded, looking out into the city. Barnes looked around, trying to spot Tom. He found him by the elevators, legs spread out in front of him as he laid against it, a small photo in his hands. Curious, Barnes walked over.

Tom looked up as he approached, opening up his vest as he started to put the picture away. Barnes swooped down and snatched it up.

“Hey!” Williams exclaimed.

“Oh, cool it.” Barnes flipped the picture over, and saw that it was of Williams and his woman. His eyebrows widened as he looked at Tom, then back at the picture. “You knew her before you arrived?” He asked. Tom was at a loss of words; his mouth hung slightly open as he pondered what to say.

“Hmm…” Williams did seem to be pretty buddy-buddy with his entire group that he’d arrived with… and he was the only “soldier” in the group. Barnes slowly leaned down, his one knee resting against the rooftop. Rex handed the picture back before he spoke.

“Williams, you’re not a soldier, are you?” Tom’s eyes lit up.

“Of course I am!” He pulled his dog tags out of his shirt and showed them to Barnes.

Williams
Tom
302-74-2893
O+
Catholic

“What’s your social security number, Tom?” Barnes asked as he slid his finger over the tags.

“The fuck?”

“Your numbers, Private.” Barnes growled. Tom sighed as he recited them.

“302-74-2893.” He double checked the tags before handing them back. Barnes sighed. Even if he was lying, what the hell did it matter?

“Sorry.” Williams shrugged.

“Something wrong?” The Private asked as he stood up. Barnes shook his head, rubbing his temples with his hands.

“All my life, I’ve wanted to be a soldier. My father was a soldier, my grandfather was a soldier, and grandfather’s father was a soldier…” He trailed off, looking back out into the city. “I’ve been dedicated to the book during my twelve years in the service. Do you know why I joined, Williams?” Tom folded his arms and shook his head.

“Why?”

“To help people. These last few weeks, I’ve lost all sense of right and wrong. It’s come to the point where the very people that I’ve rescued are being murdered the next day. Even our own soldiers are being killed, and I’m responsible for that. All the shit that’s happening back at camp, I’m partly responsible for.” Tom’s face remained blank.

“What are you suggesting?” Tom finally asked. Barnes took a deep breath.

“I… I want to leave. I don’t want to spend another god damn day there. Taft can rot in hell for all I care.” Tom slowly broke into a smile.





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Nick watched with amusement as a few of the soldiers took bets on how good of a shot their sniper was. They’d been at it for the last hour or so, and while their sharpshooter was good, Nick wasn’t impressed. Private Plonsky laughed as he took a swig from a warm beer.

“Double or nothing baby!” He laughed, pulling the bolt back on his M24. Nick stood up, taking a few steps forward and watching as Plonsky looked through the scope of his rifle. A few seconds passed before the gun went off. A moment later, a shambler’s head snapped back and collapsed, way off in the field.

“Son of a bitch…” One of the patrols muttered as he handed over a full beer.

“Nobody’s can outshoot me bitches.” The soldier laughed. Nick shook his head, deciding he’d heard enough of this cocky asshole.

“I can.” Nick said as he strode over to the fence. The Private glared at him.

“And who the fuck are you?” Nick laughed.

“A better shot, I’ll tell ya that right now.” Hua tugged on his arm, shaking his head back and forth.

“Neek, no.” Nick shoved him off as he walked forward, ignoring the sudden rifle pointed at him.

“Bullshit.” Plonsky laughed. Nick chuckled.

“How sure are you, hotshot?” Nick reached into his pocket and grabbed his empty pack of cigarettes, his eyes now on Plosnky’s case of them. The sniper looked back at the two other patrols with him, then back at Nick, his eyes now narrowing.

“I’m pretty damn sure you’re about to get your ass kicked if you don’t get back.” Nick took another step forward.

“Scared of a little challenge?” Nick saw his lip quiver.

“Kick his ass, Plonsky!” One of the patrols yelled, the other egged him on. “Yeah, don’t bitch out!”

“Fine, this will be quick. What do I get out of it when I win?” The cockiness again, Nick was going to enjoy this.

“I’ll go on a chopper ride.’ Plonsky grinned. “But if I win,” His grin began to fade. “I get that there case of cigarettes.” The soldier shrugged and stuck out his hand.

“Deal.” Nick shook it.




Ten minutes later




Nick looked down the scope of the rifle, slowing his breathing down. Both of the patrols had their guns aimed at him, just to make sure he didn’t try anything he’d regret. They were now at the top of a guard tower, overlooking the entire base and its perimeter. Plonsky was looking through a set of binoculars, scanning the area for a target.

“Red head in the skirt, around two-hundred yards. Headshot.” Nick scanned the field until he found her. He took a deep breath and exhaled, firing as he did so. The round smacked into the shambler’s face, causing her head to cave in. Nick grinned.

“When are we going to start?” Plonsky growled as he snatched the rifle out of his hands and set up post. Nick grabbed the binoculars, and scanned for a target. He stopped when he spotted a smashed up sedan.

“The black sedan, around… 400 yards? Rearview mirror.” Plonsky looked through the scope, and fired a second later. Nick frowned as the mirror exploded in a shower of glass. He stood up and handed the rifle over, pulling back on the bolt before he did so. The shell casing fluttered over the edge of the post.

“You’re going to die, asshole.” Plonsky shoved the rifle into his chest. Nick frowned as he handed the binoculars back over. “Ah, let’s see…” Nick waited, slowing his breathing down again. “Look for the barn. See that mailbox flag?” Nick found the barn, and saw the little red flag sticking up on the box, mail ready to go out, yet would never be delivered.

“I see it.” It was over half a mile away.

“Shoot it.” Nick placed the rifle on the wooden rail of the tower, steadying his aim. A few moments passed, the wind blew his hair. The crosshairs swayed on and off the red flag. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled and lightly pulled back on the trigger. The rifle kicked in his shoulder as the little red flag exploded off the mailbox. Smiling, he handed over the rifle.

“Your cigarettes are mine, asshole.” He mimicked the soldier.

“Holy shit!” One of the patrols laughed, slapping Nick on the soldier. “Where the fuck did you learn to shoot like that?”

“New York City swat, sniper.” The two patrols held up their hands, laughing like idiots.

“You got some competition, Plonsky!” The Private snarled.

“Give me a shot!” He yelled. Nicked lifted the binoculars, looking for the toughest one he could find. His gaze landed on a stop light between two trees on a road about a mile away. He could barely even see it through the binoculars. Nick walked over to the sniper and pointed out where he needed to aim.

“The stop light, hit the green one champ!” He slapped him on the shoulder, and received a curse. Nick looked through the binoculars, waiting. Plonsky took his time with this shot, and waited a full minute before he fired- and missed.

“God damn it!” Plonsky slammed the butt of the rifle against the wooden rail. “Your turn, same shot. You miss, I win.” Nick grinned.

“I won’t.” Taking the rifle and ejecting the shell, Nick slowly set up his shot. Plonsky was a good shot, but he wasn’t the best. And he was sloppy, even rookies knew to check for wind speed. Nick stuck his finger in his mouth and pulled it out, estimating how much the wind could alter his shot. The wind blew lightly, but it wasn’t much… but could still be enough at this range.

“Hurry up already!” Plonsky growled.

“Quit your whining.” Nick looked through the scope and at the light. He was surprised the power was even still running for it. The crosshairs landed on the middle, and he was about to fire when he decided to alter his position just a hair, remembering the wind speed.

“Come on!” Plonsky yelled. Nick took a deep breath, his aim never moving. “Shoot!” He exhaled and softly pulled the trigger. Watching through the scope, he saw the light shatter. Nick laughed as he shoved the rifle into Plonsky’s chest. The two patrols slapped Nick’s back and high-fived him.

“Plonsky, you bitch!” One of the patrols joked, Plonsky didn’t say a word. Nick leaned in close, whispering in his ear.

“You’ll be in my crosshairs someday kid… just you wait…” He pushed by everyone, climbing down the short ladder and walking over to the fence, grabbing his prize. Nick chuckled he ripped open a pack and pulled one out. He saw Jake at the hangar, he’d seen everything.

“You are the coolest guy I know!” Jake grinned. Nick said nothing as he pulled his lighter from his pocket and lit up. He rubbed his hand through the kid’s hair.

“Damn straight.”