Authors: Scott M Baker
The middle group returned fire, raking the top of the wall. Allard took the full brunt of the assault, the gunfire nearly cutting him in half. Frakes tried to escape as eleven rounds slammed into his chest, propelling him backwards. What remained of his body crashed onto the Humvee’s hood in a bloody heap.
The group around Earl panicked. Most fired blindly into the night sky in a desperate attempt to hit the sniper. Some looked around at the multiple targets, not having any idea what to shoot at. A few off to his right began firing at the approaching deaders, the nearest one now only a hundred feet away. Every few seconds, someone around him went down with a well-placed shot to the head.
Fuck Price and fuck this shit
, thought Earl.
He made his way to the path that cut between the two buildings, dragging Tracey in front of him. He called out to the gang member in the leather Harley Davidson vest. “Jake, follow me.”
Jake fell in beside Earl, staying as close as possible to Tracey to benefit from her protection. He kept his weapon raised, scanning it from left to right, aiming at nothing in particular. “Where are we going?”
“We’re getting the fuck out of here.”
* * *
Carter saw a flash on the hill above them, and heard the death moan of one of his men who absorbed the bullet. Ignoring the deaders, he concentrated on a new target. A human target.
Carter dropped prone on the roof, kicked out the supports for his sniper rifle, placed them on the tar, and aimed in the general direction of where the gunfire had come from. It took only a few seconds before the target fired another round. In Carter’s night vision goggles, the shot glared like a beacon, giving away the shooter’s position. He was hidden behind a boulder off to the left, and Carter could see movement between a curve in the rock and the ground. The target had done a good job of concealment, but not good enough because he had to expose himself to shoot. Carter bided his time.
He did not have long to wait. The target moved around the boulder and set up his next shot.
Before the target could get off a round, Carter squeezed the trigger.
* * *
Simmons saw the flash of gunfire and involuntarily ducked. The sound of the bullet striking to his right put him at ease, until he heard Wayans moan. Simmons scanned the roof with his scope until he saw the sniper lying prone. Holy fuck! The guy was using a .50 caliber sniper rifle. He watched the sniper load another round into the chamber and line up his next shot.
Simmons wouldn’t give him that chance.
* * *
Carter cursed when he saw the sparks generated by the bullet ricocheting off the boulder. However, rather than disappear under cover, the target rolled back and forth. He must have wounded him. Carter reloaded and sighted in on the target again, taking extra time to aim and steady himself. His finger closed around the trigger until it caught. He took a deep breath and held it, adjusted the aim, and—
The pain lasted a split second, not even long enough for Carter to register that he had been shot. The bullet entered just above his right eye and flattened out. The misshapen hunk of metal continued on its trajectory, tearing a path of destruction through his brain. Carter felt none of it. He died before the projectile punched its way through the back of his skull, leaving a cloud of blood and brain matter to follow behind it.
* * *
Simmons smiled when he saw the sniper’s head explode in the green light of the night vision goggles. He kept his scope trained on the compound, searching for more targets of opportunity, calling out to his friend in a low voice.
“Wayans, are you all right?”
No answer.
“Wayans?” he called again, louder.
Still no answer.
“Are you okay?” Simmons yelled.
“Friggin’ shut up, man,” Wayans whispered fiercely, more in frustration than anger. “You want that friggin’ sniper to get us?”
Simmons breathed a sigh of relief. “I took care of him. How are you doing?”
“A chunk of that last bullet ricocheted and caught me in the chest. Hurts like friggin’ hell.”
“Do you need my help?”
“I’m fine. Cover Robson.”
* * *
Neither DeWitt nor Roberta was prepared for the gunfight with the gang members. They both stood on the roof of the Humvee, waiting to be pulled onto the wall, when Allard and Frakes got caught in the crossfire. DeWitt grabbed Roberta by the shoulders and forced her into a crouch. A few seconds later, Allard’s partially-severed torso and Frakes’ bullet-riddled corpse dropped onto the Humvee, splattering the two in blood. DeWitt rolled off the roof onto the ground, pulling the stunned Roberta with him. She sat with her back against the vehicle’s door while DeWitt kept an eye along the top of the wall, ready to fire if any gang members tried to climb over it.
When he glanced over at Roberta, she stared numbly at the blood covering her clothes. He spoke her name, but she did not hear him. He reached around with his left hand and shook her shoulder.
“What?” Roberta yelped as he jerked her back into reality.
“Snap out of it.”
“For Christ’s sake, I just saw two of my friends gunned down.”
“Yeah, and we’re going to lose Robson and the others if we don’t find a way to get back into this game.”
Roberta mumbled the word “bastard” under her breath. She grabbed her M-16A2 and knelt beside DeWitt. “Obviously we can’t get into the compound this way, so how do you propose we break in?”
DeWitt sighed and shook his head. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
* * *
The eruption of weapons fire on the other side of the compound caught Jennifer and Caslow off guard. She crouched and raised her weapon in case the gun fight moved in their direction. Caslow took several steps back until he bumped into the wall. When the battle didn’t spill toward them, she relaxed a little. The contemptuous glare she shot at Caslow caused him turn his head.
Jennifer pointed to the storage units opposite the perimeter wall. “I’ll search this row. You take the ones in the center. Be careful. We have no idea what we’ll find in there. And for God’s sake, don’t panic and shoot any of our own people.”
Before he could respond, Jennifer ran off, headed for the first storage unit in her row.
* * *
Price entered Meat’s quarters, hoping to find Windows and the girl. Instead, he found Meat lying in a near fetal position on the floor in a pool of blood, naked from the waist down, groaning and holding his groin. When Price walked over, he saw the blood-stained belt tossed to one side and the severed testicle sitting on the cement. He surmised what must have taken place. Price hovered over Meat.
“What happened?” he asked in a voice devoid of sympathy.
Meat rolled onto his back. Fear and relief filled his eyes on seeing Price standing above him. “The cunt attacked me. She took that bitch kid and left me here.”
“Where did they go?”
“Ya gotta help me, boss.”
“Where did they go?” Price asked, this time emphasizing each word.
Meat removed his hands and pointed to his groin. “I’m hurt bad,” he whined.
Price placed the toe of his boot against the wound and pressed. Meat screamed and tried to roll away. Price held him in place with his foot.
“I’m not going to ask again. Where did the bitch go?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” Meat’s voice trailed off into a muffled sob.
Price removed his foot and wiped the sole on the man’s pants. Meat reached a hand up to him. “Ain’t ya going to help me?”
Price turned and made his way to the door.
“Boss! Please!”
Ignoring the pitiful calls for help, Price stepped into the compound. Meat had created his own hell, and now he could spend the rest of his life in it. Price didn’t have time to help those who wallowed in sin. He had to find Windows and that bitch kid, and he had a good idea where they went. Now he could kill two birds with one stone.
Price made his way to the far corner of the compound.
* * *
Windows hurried Cindy between the buildings. Every time the girl asked a question, Windows would hush her, partly to keep her quiet, and partly because she needed to concentrate on making certain no one noticed them. The commotion by the main gate made that easy because it kept the camp preoccupied, and she prayed it stayed that way. If Price ever caught them trying to escape… well, she didn’t even want to think about that.
They finally reached the kitchen. Windows took one last look around and, certain no one saw them, raised the sliding door halfway up. She ushered Cindy inside and reclosed it. It took her a few minutes of fumbling around in the dark to find the lantern and light it.
“Did I do something wrong?” Cindy asked. “Why don’t you want me to talk to you?”
“Honey, you did nothing wrong.” Windows hugged Cindy, wrapping her arms around the girl and cradling her head. “We just have to make sure no one sees us or knows what we’re doing.”
“What
are
we doing?”
“We’re getting out of here.”
Cindy broke the hug. Windows saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “You mean forever?”
“Yes.”
“And I won’t have to watch them hurt you anymore?”
Windows nodded.
“Okay. I’ll be quiet.”
“Good girl.” Windows rubbed Cindy’s cheek. “Stay here.”
Crossing over to the empty pallets that once held the compound’s food supplies, Windows removed the wire cutters she had hidden there and slipped them into her back pocket. She stepped over to the fifty-five gallon drum and tipped it onto its side, being careful not to drop it, and rolled it over to the sliding door.
“Okay, Cindy. We’re going to roll this over to the wall and use it to climb over the top. Are you up for that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now stay quiet and do as I tell you, and we’ll be fine. Can you do that for me?”
Cindy nodded.
Windows extinguished the lantern and raised the door. The gun battle still raged near the main gate. She rolled the barrel out and steered it toward the end of the building.
* * *
Robson made his way down the row of storage units, checking each one and finding them empty except for scattered personal belongings. He marked each one with a chalked X by the door. When he lifted the sliding door to the sixth unit, a female voice asked from inside, “Kyle, is that you?”
“I’m not Kyle.” Robson scanned the room with the barrel-mounted flashlight until the beam fell on two women huddled in the rear corner. One had long red hair, the other close-cropped blonde hair. Their clothes were threadbare and, like the women themselves, filthy. Both looked emaciated and terrified, especially when they saw Robson’s face in the backwash from the flashlight and realized they didn’t know him. They wrapped their arms around each other. The redhead begged, “Don’t hurt us!”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Robson shifted the barrel of the AA-12 away from the women, but still kept them in the beam of light. “We’re getting you out of here.”
The blonde perked up. “Really?”
“Yes.” Robson moved forward, stopping ten feet away so as not to pose a threat. “What are your names?”
“I’m Michelle,” the blonde answered and pointed to the redhead. “This is Kay.”
“My name is Mike. Now I need you to do me a favor. Close this door behind me—”
“No!” Michelle broke away from the other woman and crawled toward him. “You can’t leave us! What if Kyle comes back?”
Robson held up his hand to calm down and reassure Michelle. “Do you hear that gunfire? We’re taking care of the gang members, so I promise, Kyle is not coming back. I need you to close this door because there are rotters on the compound. You’ll be safe here until someone comes and gets you.”
“You can’t leave us!” begged Kay.
“Are there others like you on the compound?”
Both women nodded.
“Then I have to check on them and make sure they’re safe. I’ll come back for you. Right now I need you to close the door and don’t open it for anyone except me. Understand?”
They both stared at him blankly.
“Ladies, do you understand?”
“Y-yes,” Michelle stammered.
“I’ll return in a few minutes.” Robson made his way to the door and looked out, checking the compound for signs of gang members or rotters. When he turned, neither woman had moved. “Close this behind me.”
Michelle jumped up and ran over. Robson stepped out and waited until she slid the door shut. She stopped halfway, her eyes pleading. “Please come back for us.”