Dead Island: Operation Zulu (18 page)
Zoe West poured water onto a clean company T-shirt that had been packed away in one of the Pit Bull's equipment lockers. Using the damp shirt, she scrubbed the gore-covered biologic case clean. She really didn’t give a fuck if the container was clean or not, but she knew it was what the major would have wanted. West could picture the big man scouring it free of all the guts and stuff that had been splattered all over it. She angrily rubbed at it, not stopping until she had it near spotless. Gonzo watched her with solemn understanding, his gaze dropping to the blood splatters on the floor where the Lucas deader must have attacked Clarke. Exhausted, he leaned back in the rear seat and closed his eyes. The medic hadn’t experienced a day like this in years. There was no real victory now. Just making it home would be their prize.
"Cord." Washington was sitting across from the younger man. He had a handful of power bars he'd pulled out of his pack. "Here." He leaned forward and handed a couple to Cord.
"Thanks," he said, taking them. Sitting back, he ripped one open and hungrily tore into it. Washington handed one over to Gonzo, who just nodded and quietly peeled off the wrapper. He took a bite and grinned widely.
"I hate these fucking bars, but right now it's the most beautiful thing I’ve ever tasted."
"You must be hungry," Washington said, handing another bar to West. She wiped her hands off and waved the bar in front of her.
"Cheers," she said, ripping into the foil covering. "Got stuck in Jordan for a week with only four of these."
"What the hell were you doing in Jordan?" Washington asked as he unwrapped his own bar.
"It’s a secret." West smiled. "Tell ya, I’d have ta shoot ya."
"Shoot me right now," Cord said with a mouthful of power bar. "Would go right along with the rest of this suck ass day."
"Yeah, well." Washington popped the top off a water bottle. "We’re almost home. We have the stuff, so mission accomplished."
"Hmm." Gonzo ripped a piece of the power bar and tossed it in his mouth. "How many of us did it cost?"
"Too many," Cord said wearily. "I don’t think we knew what we were getting ourselves into."
"Nope." Washington shook his head slowly.
"I don’t think the major had a clue." Zoe set the case down next to her. "I think the whole thing was fucked up from the beginning."
"Seems like it," Washington agreed. "Now I just want to get paid and get laid."
"Ha," West laughed sharply. "I guess you’ll have enough money now to do that!"
"Damn, Zoe!" Gonzo chuckled.
"Aw, girl." Washington rolled the bottle around in his hands. "I ain’t gotta ever pay for it." He took a quick swig. "But all that money sure won’t hurt none."
"Yeah, mate, I’m sure Candy and Angel will be ‘appy to see ya. Make it rain and all." West unzipped her tac vest and reached inside. She pulled out a small pill bottle and dumped a couple of Norcos into her palm. Both her thighs were burning. All the pulling and grabbing from the undead was almost too much. She was just happy they hadn’t been able to pull her prosthetics off. West quickly swallowed the painkillers and washed them down with a swig.
"Zoe, you can come down to the Sugar Shack with me." Washington tapped the alloy calf of her exposed right leg. "I’ll introduce you to Dee-light. She’s right up your alley."
"Sorry, mate." Zoe closed her eyes and sat back. "I’m not into chicks."
"Always a first time," Washington chuckled, shoving a wad of power bar into his mouth. Cord just looked at the former grunt and shook his head. As long as he’d known him, the man was always trying to fuck something, even in this shithole. Cord couldn’t understand that line of thinking. All he was worried about was getting home alive, and Washington was worried about getting off. Another thing that worried Cord was the burning pain in his right arm. He was starting to have sharp pains in his right shoulder, not just in the bite area. Worried, he rubbed his arm absently.
"Hey, Cord," Washington called over to him through a mouthful of power bar. "You okay? You look a little pale."
"I’m fine." Cord nodded. "Just trying to take it all in." He wiped some perspiration from his forehead. He was burning up. Shit! Jefferson did shoot him up with the vaccine, so he should be fine. Yes. He was just coming down from all his adrenalin. That was it. He couldn’t be infected. Could he?
***
Since he’d been in the rear of the Pit Bull during the whole trip, it had taken Newman a few minutes to figure out which road to take back to the airfield. Once he found the roughly paved two-lane road, he stepped on the gas and prayed they’d reach the plane before anything else could happen. Newman still couldn’t believe they had just lost the major and Wickham in such simple ways. He took a swig from his water bottle and dropped it in the fancy drink holder.
"This bloody tank's got everything," he said, watching the road.
"Yeah." Jefferson unzipped his tac vest. "Thought it would have a radio or something. Be nice to have some music right now."
"I can sing you somethin' if you’d like, Jeff.” Newman smiled, trying to relax a little. "I got a plethora of show tunes in here," he said, poking a blood-stained finger at his forehead.
"I don’t know what’s more disturbing, Alby: you knowing all those show tunes or using the word plethora right."
"Why? 'Cause I’m from bloody Australia?" The gruff sergeant seemed genuinely offended.
"No, cause you're a bad ass motherfucker, Sergeant." Jefferson took another swig from his water bottle.
"My mum was an English teacher that loved American musicals." Alby chuckled. "I never had a chance, so I ran away and joined the army."
"Yeah, we all have our baggage." Jefferson smiled. "Some more bigger than others."
"What the hell is that?" Newman pointed ahead of them.
"Shit."
CHAPTER 57: WHY AREN’T YOU SHOOTING HEEM?
Brooks pushed the group along, all the while throwing quick glances behind her at the ever-growing crowd of deaders that were trailing them. Sergeant Wu walked behind the captain, carrying his machete in his left hand and his pistol in his right. When one of the children would try and get a look at the slow-moving wall of dead behind them, he would smile and tell them to turn around. The kids had been through enough that they didn’t need more visions of hell in their innocent young minds. Wu could also feel the heat and smell the rapidly burning jungle. At least the fire masked the terrible smell of the undead.
"How much farther?" Sister Anne asked Brooks.
"Not too far." Brooks smiled weakly. "Not too far."
"I’m tired," one of the kids whined.
"I’m hungry." Another.
"I gotta piss," Calvin grumbled.
"Piss your pants," Wu said quietly so only Calvin and Brooks could hear it.
"No fucking way," he said in heavily accented English. "I gotta piss."
"You stop, you’re dead." Brooks jerked a thumb back to the shuffling crowd behind them. "But by all means, stop and piss."
"No … no." Calvin swallowed and walked a little faster. "I'll wait."
"Good choice," Brooks said. Wu stepped up closer to the captain and whispered in her ear.
"Captain, they’re gaining on us."
"I know," she whispered back. "We may have to stand and fight." The moaning was slowly becoming louder as they dead inched closer.
"Of course." Wu continued walking. "Can’t be easy, can it?"
"No, Sergeant. Easy was the bus crash."
"Hmmm." Wu shrugged. He noticed one of the little girls limping a little. "Sister, is she okay?" He nodded towards the girl that was starting to lag behind.
"You okay, Brigitte?” Anne asked the child in French. The girl said something back in a barely audible tone. The sister smiled then gave Wu a sober look. "She twisted her ankle back there," Anne said in English. "She says she can walk."
"That’s alright, sister." Wu holstered his weapon and sheathed the machete. He walked over to where the girl was and stopped in front of her. He made a motion for her to climb up in his arms. The young girl smiled and quickly did so.
"Thank you," the girl said in broken English.
"I have a little sister," Wu said, placing her on his shoulders. "I used to carry her to school like this all the time."
"Good job, Wu," Brooks said, dropping back to walk behind them. "Glad the major stuck you with me."
"Been a pleasure, Captain. Hell, it’s been an adventure." Wu smiled as the girl rested securely on his weary shoulders.
"Come on, kids," Brooks said, glancing behind. About thirty of the deaders were now about fifty yards away from them. Staggering, limping, shuffling nightmares. The captain was just thankful that there weren’t any runners among them. "We need to move it," she urged them on. Suddenly, from the jungle ahead of them, three deaders burst out from the foliage. Growling and gnashing their teeth, they charged at the small group. The children screamed and turned back to the adults for protection. Sister Ann and the others tried to shield the kids with their bodies. Brooks and Wu ran forward through the panicking crowd.
"Back, back!" Brooks shouted, drawing her handgun.
"Cover your ears, Brigitte." Wu pulled his .45 and took a combat stance. This was a first for him. Hell, most of this was a first. With the girl on his shoulders, he aimed and squeezed off a shot. The drooling, screaming deader flew backwards as Wu's round smashed into its forehead.
Brooks fired at a second deader, catching it in the throat. Head dropping to its chest, the cannibal corpse continued its swaying charge. The captain fired again, blowing a hole in the top of its skull and sending black blood and bone fragments flying. The deader stumbled a few feet then slid to the pavement face first. Wu had started to line up a shot on the third deader when Brigitte screamed and grabbed the sergeant's face, inadvertently covering both his eyes. A fourth, armless deader had emerged from Wu’s immediate left and was making a shaky charge in his direction. "Let go, Brigitte! I can’t see!" he shouted. The little girl let go for a brief moment then screamed again and once more covered his eyes. Wu had been in the middle of squeezing off a round when Brigitte's little hands blinded him, causing the shot to hit the advancing deader in the stomach. The undead man grunted, wobbled a little, then continued its run at the two.
"Shoot heem!" Brigitte pleaded in accented English.
"I can’t see!" The sergeant tried to move the girl's hands away with his left but she had a death grip on him, all the while screaming in his ear. Wu was now both blind and partially deaf, a great place to be when you had the flesh eating dead a few feet from you.
"Why aren’t you shooting heem?" the girl cried in a panic.
The sergeant was able to pry Brigitte's small fingers open a bit, giving him just enough daylight to see an approaching shadow. He fired again. The shot took the deader in the knee, sending it crashing to the road. Dragging its damaged leg, the starving corpse still furiously struggled to reach Wu and the little girl.
"Shoot heem! 'Es getting closer!"
Freaking out, Wu fired wildly in front of them. None of his shots hit their mark. Brigitte continued to scream into his ears while holding onto his face with that death grip. Wu squeezed the trigger and was met with a deadly click. His .45 was empty.
"Closer, sergeant! 'Es getting closer!"
Unable to remove the little girls hands, frustrated and annoyed, Wu yelled for Brooks.
"Captain! Captain, a little help here," he shouted angrily above the girl's screams.
"Hold on!" Brooks shot the third deader in the face and it toppled backwards, splatting heavily on the ground. The captain then turned to her left to see Wu struggling with the little girl on his shoulders and the quickly approaching armless deader. If the situation wasn’t so dire, she would have made some smart ass remark to the sergeant. Instead, she moved in front of the two and placed a round in the deader's forehead. The top of its skull vaporized, and the undead woman wavered then collapsed in a shower of its own blood and brain matter.
"Got it," Brooks yelled over the screaming girl's cries.
"Thank you. Brigitte. Brigitte!” Wu shouted as he patted her leg. "It’s over. It’s over." The little girl's screams turned into sobs, and she slowly released her grip on his eyes. "It’s okay, Brigitte." He wiped some sweat from his face. "Thanks, Captain. That was close."
"Time to go." Brooks pointing her handgun at the advancing crowd of deaders behind them. The hungry mass of undead had gained some ground on them during the brief firefight. Some of the children started crying in fear. Sister Anne and the parents tried to quiet them and move the kids forward.
There was the roar of an engine, and the Pit Bull suddenly smashed through the wall of deaders, sending a handful of the corpses flying across the road. The reanimated bodies crashed into the pavement, exploding like rotten piñatas. Several others of the ravenous dead were crushed beneath the tactical vehicle's bulletproof tires. The blood-and-guts-covered Pit Bull rolled up right up to Brooks' group of stragglers. The passenger door of the vehicle's cab flung open and Jefferson jumped out, then quickly reached back inside and grabbed out his mini-14.
"Come on, Captain!" Jefferson shouted as he walked down the side of the Pit Bull, firing at the remaining deaders. Some of the undead that had been run over were dragging and pulling themselves along the ground. Others slowly crawled while the few that still stood staggered toward them.
"Son of a bitch." Wu smiled, relieved. "Those are the good guys," the sergeant said, grinning up at Brigitte. The little girl smiled widely and clapped her hands.
"Let’s go, everyone!" Brooks said, ushering the group toward the Pit Bull. The side doors opened, and Washington and Gonzales climbed out. Both carried rifles and spread out to help Jefferson finish off the crowd of deaders that were behind them. Once Brooks' group was inside, Washington and Gonzo quickly climbed in behind them. Jefferson closed the doors from outside and jumped back into the cab.
"All good?" Newman asked.
Jefferson nodded. "All good.”