Books of the Dead (Book 3): Dead Man's Land (33 page)

“The helicopter’s coming back,” Brother Ed said as he craned his head out the window to look.

“Yeah, I hear it,” I replied. “This is going to be close.” 

The tree line and our escape seemed miles away. 

Chapter 40

Boots on the Ground

Russell watched as the convoy rolled over the bodies and body parts of the zombies.  Like the others, he had dreamed of the day when the military would arrive and rescue him, but there was a sense of dread in his subconscious, like a long bad violin note being played.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking to the others

“I don’t think hiding will work,” Jo said.  “So, let’s go greet them.”  She took Thomas by the hand and they started down the hallway.  The others hesitated, but followed. 

They entered a dark stairwell and carefully made their way down to the first floor.  Their footfalls were loud as they echoed down the stairs, but still they heard the rumble of the vehicles outside along with the helicopters.  They came out into a familiar hallway and Jo led them to an exterior door.  None of them spoke as they walked.

Jo put a hand on the door handle, paused a moment, sucked in a deep breath, and opened the door.  The light coming in from the outside was blinding.  All of them put up their hands to fend it off and blinked as their eyes watered.  They stepped out into the sun and stood just outside the door, waiting for what was going to happen next.

It took the soldiers all of three seconds to notice the door and the people standing outside it.  It sounded like fifty weapons snapped their safeties off at once.  Several of the soldiers started shouting and the commands were variations on a theme.

“Put down your weapons!”

“Get your hands in the air!

“Don’t try anything!”

And so on.  Jo and Russell complied instantly. 

Where I had been babying the truck before, I jammed down the accelerator.   The truck protested the rough treatment for a couple seconds, by jerking and shuddering, but then fell into compliance.  The ride was pretty rough as we ran over downed zombies and ruts made in the grass.  At the rate we were moving, both of us bounced around inside the cab like Mexican jumping beans. 

I could tell it was going to be tight.  The truck was doing forty whereas, I’m sure, the helicopter was doubling or tripling that.  And we weren’t sure that we still wouldn’t be spotted, even if we made it under the cover of the trees in time.  There was also the issue of turning the truck onto the dirt road.  The entrance to the road wasn’t a straight path from the woods.  You had to turn into a little meadow and then start onto the road.  It wasn’t a hairpin turn, but it was fairly abrupt.

There was also the issue of the width of the dump truck.  The road was very narrow and the dump truck was not very slim and trim, but it was our only ride, so I stayed the course.

The sound of the helicopter increased in intensity.  The meadow was just ahead.  I slammed the brakes, tearing copious amounts of grass, and cut the wheel, putting us into a skid.  Brother Ed gasped, but that was it.  If I had been a passenger, I would have probably soiled myself about then.

The trees on our right were coming up scarily fast as the truck slid across the meadow.  At the last possible moment, I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and the rear tires fought for some purchase with the ground.  It took about three seconds and they got some traction.  I aimed for the dirt road which was just ahead. 

The helicopter sounded like it was right on top of us.  The entrance into the woods seemed narrower and smaller than I remembered, with large limbs reaching across it like gnarled hands.  There was little I could do, but pray.  When I took a quick glance over at Brother Ed that’s exactly what he was doing, his lips moved soundlessly and his eyes went wide as his hand gripped the door handle like he was on a white knuckled rollercoaster ride.

The truck passed into the woods just as we heard the loud whoosh of the helicopter pass overhead.  Our world went from brightness to dark as we were consumed within a canopy of trees covering the road.  Limbs cracked off as the truck battered them out of the way as we rocketed down the road.  A dangerously tight turn lay just a quarter of a mile into the woods and I cut our speed down to less than five miles an hour to make sure we didn’t wipe out.  After I made the turn, I bought the truck to a stop.  Ahead of us was a large break in the trees with tall grass and wildflowers. On any other (normal) day, the spray of light sunlight reflecting brightly off the grass and flowers might look idyllic.  You might wait for a delicate fawn to step into view and nibble at the grass.  But we were in a freaking zombie apocalypse so I was watching for a zombie to step into view at any moment.

“Why are we stopping?” Brother Ed asked.

“Because we need to make sure that we didn’t get spotted,” I said.  “I don’t want to lead these goons to Kara and the others.  Besides, there’s too much open space ahead.  I don’t want that helicopter flying back and spotting us.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded.  We sat quietly as the truck idled.  It didn’t purr quietly, but instead growled like large mechanical dog.  And that was the problem.  The damn thing wasn’t very quiet.

As always, making less noise was standard operating procedure.  More noise meant that there was a likelihood that they would hear.  ‘They’ were zombies and, of course, ‘they’ heard the rumble from our old dinosaur of a vehicle.  That seemed to be given.

They came out of the trees in front of the truck and behind us.  It wasn’t a horde, but it was enough.  I didn’t think there were so many that they could clog up our escape route, but the thought did cross my mind.  An overlarge shirtless male zombie led the pack in front.  He waddled his way toward the grill of the truck, swaying back and forth, making me think of a gorilla.  I checked the side view mirror and saw another pack making its way up the road toward us. 

The lyrics of a ‘70s song came to mind.  “
Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you
.”  I fought back a smile when I looked to Brother Ed, but said nothing. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.  “Here we are with zombies all around us and you’re smiling like a...a...a...whatever.”

“You know, Brother Ed, God has blessed or cursed me with the strangest sense of humor.  I’d like to say it’s a blessing, but…” I rose my hand in the air and waved it back and forth, “not everyone agrees with my assessment.”

He was not in the agreement camp. 

While I felt the truck had the clearance and brute strength to batter its way through the zombies in front of us, I decided not to take any chances and put the truck into reverse.  This, of course, meant the ones behind us were about to get a face-full of dump truck, but that was their problem, not mine.  As usual, they had no concerns at all, other than getting another mouthful of flesh.  They went down like dominos as the truck ran over them, clocking most of them in the head and pulping the ones who went under the tires. 

We were about to the curve when I hit the brakes.  Ahead of us on the road was a swath of undead in various states of destruction and dismemberment as a result of us rolling over them.  Some still flailed hands in the air after their legs had been crushed, but most were considerable thinner than they had been a few seconds ago.  My morbid sense of humor nearly broke through again, but I took the mature and high road and kept my mouth shut.

The soldiers moved in cautiously, their weapons up, and fingers on their triggers. 

Jo and Russell had already laid their weapons on the ground and had their hands in the air.  Jo only had one hand in the air.  The other was wrapped around Thomas, who she had pulled tightly against her. 

Looking at all those dark circles at the end of all those weapons made Russell’s legs feel rubbery.  One wrong move and it would be over.  He willed himself to maintain calm and steadiness. 

As they got closer, the soldiers fanned out, encircling Jo, Russell, and Thomas.  Once the circle was complete the soldiers stopped and held their positions with no one speaking.

Russell thought that this scene seemed so surreal.  The weather was nearly perfect, with a vibrant blue sky above, birds chirped their pleasant little songs in the trees, and gentle breeze came at them out of the west carrying the scent of wild flowers, but they found themselves surrounded by soldiers with guns.  Of course, that scent of wild flowers was overpowered by the stench of the dead.

The tableau held for several seconds until a deep and resonant voice gave the command to make a path.  Russell caught a motion outside the circle and the soldiers on gave way, leaving a narrow corridor from the outside of the circle leading to Jo, Russell, and Thomas.

When the last soldiers stepped out of the way, Russell spotted Aaron and Maggie at the edge of the circle.  Aaron had a trail of blood coming down his brow from what looked like a fresh wound on his forehead, but he had an angry look of defiance in his eyes.  Aaron was big, but the soldier standing behind him was taller and broader, looking like a human version of Bigfoot.  This soldier gave Aaron and Maggie a shove forward and continued to nudge them along.  Another person was behind the soldier, but Russell couldn’t see who it was.

The soldiers moved out of the way like the Red Sea parting and let Aaron, Maggie, and the soldier pass.  When they got to Russell and Jo, the soldier put catcher’s mitt sized hands on Aaron and Maggie’s shoulders and separated them.  Both Aaron and Maggie had their arms pulled back behind their backs.

It was then that Russell saw the man behind the soldier.  This man wore a dark blue uniform and a commander's hat with a brim so finely polished that the sun gleamed off it, along with dark green aviator sunglasses.  His posture was rigid, his movements economical and measured.  Everything about this man spoke of command and control.  His buzz cut displayed a little gray at the temples.

This commander eyed Russell, Jo, and Thomas as if he were looking at livestock.  He nodded and the extra-large soldier gave Aaron and Maggie a shove.  The two them stumbled forward and Russell bought his hands out to prevent them from falling.  It was then he noticed that Aaron and Maggie had their hands tie-wrapped together tightly.

While the ring of soldiers maintained their aim on the group, the big soldier seemed relaxed and at ease with what looked like a small smile.  His face was broad, with a blocked off chin covered with dark stubble. 

The commander, on the other hand, remained controlled.  His face was shaved neatly with a healthy, fresh glow.  He moved to within inches of Russell’s face, but then stepped back and looked to the circle of soldiers.

“Weapons down,” he snapped off in a voice of command.

The soldiers slowly dropped their aim and Russell felt a slight sense of relief.

The commander bought his attention back to Russell and the others.  “My name is Colonel Kilgore.  I am in command of these men, both of the Air Force and the Army.  I need to ask if there are any more of your people inside?”

Jo shook her head.

He continued, “Okay.  Thanks for that information.  Please give me a moment.”

He took off his sunglasses, pocketed them, and turned to the over-sized soldier.  “Sergeant Jones, would you please disburse the men to strategic positions around this complex.”

“Yes sir,” the big soldier said.  He then turned to the troops and shouted a series of orders, his voice booming like a megaphone.  Some of the soldiers jumped back on vehicles and drove off, while others jogged to the front of the complex and another group went to the back.  A dozen soldiers stuck with the colonel and sergeant. 

“Are there any deaders inside?” the big soldier asked.

Jo stayed quiet and Russell hesitated for a moment, then said, “There could be some in the front building, but most of that building burned.

The big soldier shouted another set of orders and six of the remaining men streamed by Russell and the others and made their way into the building, weapons up and ready.

Colonel Kilgore spoke again, “Before we continue, Sergeant, can we release these two people’s hands?”  He pointed at Aaron and Maggie.

Sergeant Jones looked hesitant at first, but then complied when the colonel nodded his head again.  There was nothing spoken, but the nod was definitely a command.

Jones moved forward and used a small set of wire clippers he produced from a pocket in his fatigues and snipped away the tie-wraps on their wrists.   Aaron rubbed his wrists for a moment and glared at Jones as he stepped back next to Kilgore.

“I’m truly sorry about having to have confined you earlier,” Kilgore said to Aaron and Maggie.  “These are dangerous times and not everyone is behaving in the most pro-social ways.  We have encountered many who do not think the rules apply any more.  I’m sure you may have, also.”  He paused for a response, but no one offered up any further information.  “There are some preliminary items that must be dispensed with.  What is happening in our country, and our world, is unprecedented.  Because of the virus, much of our social order has broken down.  We, meaning the military, are working to re-establish what we can, but with our communication networks not operating all that well and the virus still running rampant.  Despite our best efforts, we have found it slow going.”

“Is there more of you around?” Jo asked.

“There are pockets, yes,” Kilgore said.  “In Virginia, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania.  I’m sorry to say that with the exception of Kansas, there’s nothing to speak of in the west.  We have communicated with unstructured forces in Colorado, Idaho, Washington, and Oregon.”