Riposte (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 2) (32 page)

“If this is the icing on top of this hellish cake, I guess that makes these guys the birthday candles,” Garza muttered as he looked out over the bodies stuck to the ground. That such a thought even crossed his mind made him question his sanity.
Maybe all of this is finally getting to me.
He did not think about this for long, knowing that if he did, he would lose whatever was left of his mind.

As Montes drove, Garza kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, even though the fire-ravaged landscape was devoid of virtually everything. When he looked at the grand scale of destruction, he found it hard to imagine that people used to live, work, and play there. The wasteland seemed never-ending, extending far beyond what he assumed would have been the boundaries of the Buckhead quarantine zone.

For everything else it did, the firebombing campaign certainly took care of the infected in the area. While many were not completely destroyed, most appeared incapacitated. The few infected that Garza saw shambling through the ruins had clearly wandered in after the attacks. They looked lost, like the shell-shocked survivors seen wandering through the ruins after every artillery barrage or bombing. For an instant, Garza thought they might have returned to the area to search the wreckage for some part of their old lives, but he knew better.

The blackened patina progressively faded as they drove farther south until only the bland, gray hues of the abandoned world remained. General Montes slowed as they approached I-85. Thousands of motionless cars made the interstate look like a giant metal serpent snaking through the city. The elevated highway appeared to bristle with subtle electricity. Looking through his binoculars, Garza gasped when he saw the reason for the movement. Scattered between the cars were hundreds upon hundreds of infected milling about aimlessly. He swallowed hard when he considered the lethal potential of the mass of infected, and the fact that they had to drive past the interstate to reach their destination.
At least they’re up there, and we’re down here…

“Are you seeing what I’m Seeing, Garza?” General Montes asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got eyes on them. We may as well get this over with,” Garza replied.

Without further delay, Montes drove forward, maneuvering the truck toward the interstate.

Garza kept his position in the roof hatch and was thankful not to see any infected on the road ahead of them. As they drew closer to the I-85 underpass, Garza began to hear the collective drone of the untold number of infected on the road above. He prayed their noise would be enough to mask that of the Bearcat’s engine. When they passed under the highway overpass without incident, Garza breathed a huge sigh of relief. Although they were all thinking it, none of them dared mention how little difficulty they were having on what they hoped was the last leg of their journey.

All of a sudden, a tremendous explosion of rending metal and shattering glass erupted behind the Bearcat, interrupting Garza’s thought. Swiveling around in the roof hatch, he saw a body plummet through the air before slamming into a car parked on the side of the road they had just passed. In an instant, the sky behind them grew dark as the sunlight was blotted out by the multitude of infected pouring over the guardrail of the interstate above. While some smashed into parked cars, others simply splattered against the asphalt. Like lemmings, they kept coming, and Garza wondered just how many would spill over the edge before there were none left to take the fateful plunge. Already he could see that the pile of broken bodies had become thick enough to pad the fall of some of the infected. He was amazed as more than one stood and began to pursue them.

“General, are you seeing
this
?” Garza asked in disbelief.

He received no reply as they continued forward. Like a horrible car accident, Garza was unable to tear his eyes away from the scene behind the truck. His gawking was interrupted by another loud thud behind him, but this time it was from the front of the vehicle. He knew they were emerging from the underpass because the sunlight reappeared around him. As he swiveled around to investigate the new sound, a brief shadow passed overhead and his mind finally registered what was happening.

Instinctively, Garza dropped down into the truck, grabbing the handle to close the hatch as he went. As he did, the infected thing slammed into the door, forcing it closed and hastening Garza’s descent into the passenger compartment. Even though he tried to brace for the fall, he landed hard on his tailbone on the floor below. A light thump on the crotch got his attention, and his eyes went wide as he stared in confusion at the thing in his lap.

“Get it off! Get it off!” Garza let out a panicked shriek as he scuttled back in an attempt to escape the severed hand currently cradling his manhood. As he did, he collided with a none-too-happy Charon, who let out a dismissive huff. Pinching it between his thumb and index finger as though it were radioactive, he flung the hand away. It landed near Anthony’s feet with a wet thud. Slightly embarrassed, the soldier flashed the boy a sheepish smile. Anthony returned the smile before looking from the soldier to the hand, and then back out the side window.

As his mind finally processed what had occurred, Garza’s heart rate began to slow. When the infected thing had fallen onto the roof, one of its hands found its way into the turret opening. Facilitated by the thing’s additional weight, the hatch slammed shut, amputating its hand instantly as though it were a guillotine.

General Montes noticed the commotion and called from the driver’s seat, “Everyone okay back there?” Garza watched the windshield wipers smear dark blood and hair in a wide arc across the glass. “Looks like we’re coming up on some type of military barricade. Garza, if you’re done playing around back there, would you care to join me up here?”

Flooded with relief, Garza could not help but let out a nervous chuckle as he made his way toward the front of the truck. He gave the hand a little kick for good measure as he passed. “I understand you need a hand, sir,” Garza said as he slid into the passenger seat. The General was clearly oblivious to the lame pun, as his demeanor remained completely unchanged.

“I can barely see through the windshield. Can you poke your head out the hatch and scope out the situation ahead?” General Montes said.

Great…the hatch again.
Garza complied and moved to the roof turret. Although he pushed hard against the door, it did not budge at first. Assuming it had been damaged when it slammed shut, he centered himself beneath it and rammed his shoulder into the door. His effort was rewarded as the door flung open. Cautiously, he poked his head through the opening, keeping his eyes trained on the distant barricade. Even though they were well past the underpass, Garza could not help but glance up to ensure no more infected were about to rain down upon him. He turned toward the barricade, looking for any sign of activity. They did not know who, if anyone, was manning the roadblock. If it was manned, they had no way of knowing if they would be seen as a threat. The last thing Garza wanted was to make it this far only to be cut down by friendly fire.

Seeing no movement, Garza grabbed his binoculars to get a closer look. Montes kept the truck moving forward, but only at a few miles per hour. As he panned slowly from side to side, Garza felt a dull poke on his shoulder as though Montes had driven through the low-hanging boughs of a tree. He lowered the binoculars and was about to tell the General to watch where he was driving, when he heard the telltale snarl of the infected. Whirling around, his eyes locked on the handless stump reaching for him. In his mind, he knew the thing was trying to grab him, but Garza thought it looked as though he was pointing at him in an accusatory manner, as if saying,
I’ll get you for taking my hand, you bastard!

Garza gripped the thing’s sleeve and yanked him forward. With his other hand, he grabbed its collar near the back of its neck, and with a great heave, he tossed the thing off the top of the truck. Garza disappeared into the passenger compartment momentarily before popping back up with a satisfied grin on his face. He cocked his arm and hurled the severed hand at the thing writhing on the pavement behind them. “Thanks for the hand, but I don’t need your damn help!” Garza barked, suppressing a laugh as Lin groaned below.

“General, the barricade appears to be unmanned,” Garza said. As they drew closer, they saw three rows of concertina wire stretched across the front of a bridge spanning a shallow ravine at the bottom of which was a large stream. From his elevated position, Garza saw that hundreds of infected had fallen into the creek and were continuously trying to scrabble up the ravine’s steep sides without much success. A row of Jersey barriers stacked two layers high was positioned immediately behind the tangle of wire. Several abandoned military vehicles, including a burned-out Humvee and an eight-wheeled Stryker that appeared to be in good condition, were parked in such a way that they created a narrow funnel near the middle of the road.

Bodies that appeared to have been dead for many days were scattered all around the perimeter of the barricade, and the smell of death hung thick in the air. It was clear that there had been a great firefight with a massive expenditure of ammunition, as the spent cases were so thick in some areas that the ground glistened like a solid sheet of brass. Worst of all, at least fifty infected were hopelessly entangled in the concertina wire outside the barricade. It seemed the more they squirmed, the more tangled they became—and they squirmed plenty. Their constant movement caused the coils to clang against one another like an enormous Slinky. The pointed blades cut so deeply into their flesh that Garza didn’t think they could ever get free.

Montes pulled to a stop twenty-five yards from the wire, and all of the infected reached for the Bearcat in unison. Beyond the parked vehicles stood an enclosure made of twelve-foot tall hurricane fencing reinforced by a large mound of sandbags. The gates were closed and chained. In addition, several additional Jersey barriers had been moved in front of the gate, presumably in an effort to keep it closed permanently after the location was abandoned.

“What do you think, Garza? Can we punch through?” General Montes asked.

Garza thought about it for a moment. The space between the vehicles was tight, but he thought the Bearcat could scrape through. He knew the huge truck could tear through the fencing without issue, but he was less certain about the concrete barriers. Comparing the burgeoning group of infected staggering behind them to the few scattered about ahead, he thought it was their best chance.

“I think the truck can make it through. Besides, if we get stuck, we can always escape through the roof hatch and continue on foot,” Garza said, his weak smile less than reassuring.

“I agree. Close the hatch and buckle up. This is going to be rough,” Montes said. Lin and Anthony were already securing their harnesses when he passed.

“You two okay?” he asked. They nodded, and Charon barked to let him know that he was good as well. “Sorry, you three,” he added with a grin, as he slid into the front passenger seat.

Buckling his seatbelt, Garza said, “The next question is:
how are we going to secure the barricade after we tear through it
?”

“One thing at a time, son,” General Montes said with a wink. He gunned the Bearcat’s engine before his eyes had even returned to the road. The massive turbo-diesel roared as the truck raced toward the barricade. The infected, suspended in the concertina wire like hellish Christmas ornaments, flashed by Garza’s window. He was surprised by how much speed the truck managed to accrue in such a short distance. A second later, a sound like the Earth being split in two erupted as the truck slammed into the Jersey barriers.

The concussive force rippled through the truck, jostling their brains and making it so none of them were able to see the rest of the details completely. The concrete barriers separated upon impact, the truck pushing the lower one toward the ground, while the upper one fell onto the hood. It slammed into the windshield, chipping, but not shattering it.
Thank God for bulletproof glass!
Chunks of concrete exploded around them as the heavy barrier slid off the side of the truck’s hood. The truck’s suspension rebounded considerably as it was relieved of the considerable weight.

The impact had little effect on the truck’s speed as it barreled forward. Garza’s head whipped back in time to see the hurricane fence come into view. The truck collided with the gates, pushing them apart, and causing the chain binding them to grow taut. Stretched to its breaking point, a link of the heavy chain sheered under the force, and shot away as the gates burst outward. The next thing Garza saw was blue sky as the truck climbed the heap of sandbags stacked just beyond the fence. Feeling weightless momentarily, Garza’s stomach leapt into his throat as the truck crested the low mound. When the nose dipped toward the ground, the rear axle landed atop the second row of Jersey barriers, causing the passengers to whiplash forward violently. A second later, Montes was applying the brakes and the big truck was skidding to a halt.

Garza’s head rolled to the side, and he let out a pained moan. As he rubbed his neck and waited for his mind to clear, he felt a sloppy, wet tongue on his cheek.

Turning, he said, “Lin? Are you okay?” Pushing Charon to the side, he added, “Anthony?”

He was relieved when Lin replied, “We’re good. How about you two?”

“Never better,” Garza said, still trying to keep Charon from licking him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw General Montes shaking his head as though clearing the last remnants of a long night’s sleep.