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Authors: R Yates

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BOOK: The Swamp
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“Why didn’t they just kill her? They don’t seem to be averse to doing that kind of thing?” wondered Paul out loud.

             
Mike sort of chuckled and said, “Like that Sandra lady, the soldiers say they have necessary skills.” and left it at that.

             
They let his meaning sink in for a few moments

             
“Hey mike, know anything about guns?” Sam asked, breaking the heavy silence.

             
“Oh just a little, 8 years with the marines as a scout sniper, 2 tours in Iraq before I was stop-lossed and sent to Afghanistan. I got out and had a gun store in Ocala before some bastards looted it. So yeah, I know a little...”

             
“I think I love you.” Paul quipped and they sat down to making plans.

 

              By the time they turned in, they had a plan. Paul would take one of the dairy trucks they had seen in the lot and cause a distraction while Sam snuck into the compound and, covered by Mike in the trees with the 30.06, and try to get close enough to take out the guard at the barn and free the prisoners, Then they would beat feet back to the RV and get the hell out of dodge. They decided three in the morning would be the best because the prisoners would still be locked up, but they would have the daylight by the time they made it back to the RV.

             
That night, Sam had elected to sleep on the roof of the RV and let the others have the comfort of the beds; he drifted off as he stared up at the stars.

             
He was in a field of potatoes, the scarecrows of men working around him. He looked around and finally spotted Mark a dozen yards away. He called out to him, and Mark turned to look at him. Sam found himself staring into glazed eyes that seemed to look through him. Mark moaned and lurched forward, crossing the distance with alarming speed. Before Sam tried to step back and tripped over a furrow of dirt. He hit the ground hard.

             
The corpse of his brother fell to its knees beside him as the others limped forward. He felt a searing pain as his brothers claws dug into his stomach and drew his organs out and into his mouth.

             
He was trying to scream as the others knelt beside him and began to feast, but nothing would come out.

             
He jerked awake, and found himself alone and staring at the brightening morning sky. He wished he had brought the vodka with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

 

 

              The day passed in preparation. Mike napped, obviously much better prepared for this kind of thing mentally. Paul and Sam spent the day in nervous energy packing and repacking their kits, cleaning and oiling their weapons and hours of fidgeting. Sam was relieved when dark arrived and the appointed hour came for he and Mike to leave, they wished Paul good bye and set off.

             
It took them a little longer to pick their way through the woods. The dark greatly hindered the way and they had decided to not use the flashlights they had brought. They arrived a little after one. The moon provided some light, so they were able to make out the lay of the land. The barn was guarded as expected, the lone sentry making his slow circle looking bored as hell. They could make out one soldier drawing abreast to them between the fences. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at his feet as he walked.


That’s one thing you can say about the end of the world,” whispered Mike, “It sure helped me quit smoking quickly, and the damn cigarettes were looted faster than the damn food.” Sam started to chuckle, but felt bad when he say the longing look on Mikes face.

             
It took almost twenty minutes before the other guard was seen and passed by, this one also smoking. Mike groaned softly.

“That’s your cue
Sam.” Mike finally said.

“Yay”
Sam replied and after a heavy sigh started to crawl forward. He crossed the distance to the fence quicker than he thought, and had to hide behind a downed log while the sentry passed. When the man was 50 yards away, Sam crossed the remaining distance to the outer fence. They had decided to use sticks to prop the razor wire up and then take them out after Sam had scooted under. They didn’t want it to be obvious that anyone had gotten through. They had also chosen this spot because the chain link looked loose, and they hoped the same trick would work there.

             
It didn’t. No matter how hard he pulled he couldn’t get the fence high enough to get under. He knew time was running out before the next patrol happened by, so with a muttered “fuck” he pulled the wire cutters out of his pocket and went to work. The wire made a sharp click as he cut, but he didn’t think it would travel far enough to be heard. He only had to cut a few before he was able to use the stick trick to get through. He hoped the cut wouldn’t be noticed.

             
He made his way quickly into the potato patch that bordered the fence and lay amongst the rows. Anyone looking would be able to see his prone form, but he hoped the guards would be paying more attention to the outside of the perimeter.

             
Luck was with him and the man passed without incident. Checking his watch he saw it was already passed two in the morning, he had to get a move on or he wouldn’t be in position when the semi arrived. He decided to risk a crouching run.

             
He worked his way to the edge of the fields and waited for the barn guard to work his way by, and rushed in and hid between the walls of the barn by the silo. Now all there was to wait for the sounds of an engine. They had discussed the need to not make a move on the barn until they were sure Paul was going to make it on time. His wait seemed like hours. The soldier passed several times. Sam’s legs began to cramp from the awkward position he had to maintain to stay hidden.

             
He pressed an ear to the still warm metal of the barn. He could hear a hushed conversation, oddly enough about football, and a few people snoring punctuated by the occasional cough.

             
From his dark place, he could see to the left and the right in narrow slits. He saw the guard approach again, but this time he changed his course and headed towards the silo. Sam’s heart accelerated and he began to worry that the guard would be able to hear it. The guard walked to the side of the silo, and unzipped. The sound of urine streaming against the metal walls of the silo made a weird droning sound. The man finished and went back to his rounds. Sam slowly let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

             
It occurred to him he hadn’t even bothered to draw his pistol from his holster, if that guard had seen him it would have been all over. He would have been dead before he could draw and fire, perforated by the guard’s rifle. Sam carefully drew the Taurus and cursed his carelessness.

             
About the time the guard passed the twelfth time, he froze and looked over his shoulder as if listening to something. Sam stranded his ears and could hear it too. The sound wasn’t what he expected, instead of the thrum of a diesel engine, he heard music. He could almost swear he heard the tune of “Do your ears hang low”. Its melodic tune reminded him of chasing the ice cream truck when he was young.

             
The guard’s belt squawked, and an excited voice said something Sam couldn’t make out. This had to be Paul’s distraction; He leveled the pistol at the man and fired three times. The man fell to the ground, and all hell broke loose.

             
The massive area lights flared and he could hear voices yelling.

Sam
leapt to his feet and rushed over to the downed soldier. The man was dead, but to be sure, Sam fired a shot into the bottom of his chin, they didn’t want anyone coming back unexpectedly. That done, Sam began to rifle the man’s pockets and was eventually rewarded with a keychain.

             
The Ice cream truck sound was closer, and he could hear the engine revving up. From the tree line he heard a boom as the 30.06 fired and knew a perimeter guard was down. The rifle boomed again and again but Sam couldn’t tell what he was firing at. At the front of the farm, the music rang loud through the night. At the sound of a huge crash and the music stopped, but was replaced with gun fire, lots of it. He heard an engine accelerating and another crash rang through the night followed by the vehicle speeding away. Its engine was knocking badly, and he could hear a grinding noise, but it sped off into the night. Sam caught a glimpse of it as it made off, it really was an ice cream truck, and He could just make out the yellow and blue polka dot paint job.

             
Sam fumbled at the lock on the barn, he could hear shouts from inside, and someone was banging a fist against the door. He finally got it open and it swung out revealing a startled looking group standing with in.

             
“MARK!” was all he could think to yell. The stunned crowd stared at him, but one figure pushed to the front. His brother stood there, looking beat down and haggard, but alive. They came together in a hug.

             
To the front of the property, the automatic gunfire started again and drew their embrace short. Sam didn’t have time to wonder what they were shooting at since Paul had left. He had to get these people out of here.

             
“Mark is everyone here okay and can everyone walk?”

             
His brother’s voice was weaker than he ever remembered as he responded, “Not well, we have had it rough here.”

             
“I know I am sorry I didn’t come looking sooner.” Sam said as he hung his head. “Get these people and take them that way. Look for the lights.”               He raised his hand and indicated the direction Mike was waiting. Mike was to wave two flash lights to signal the way out of here. “Take these.” He added as he thrust the wire cutters into his brother’s hands.

             
The survivors of the farm started out and across the field painfully slowly. He glanced towards the trees and saw the light waving in the woods. He followed behind the group, gun ready. He had made a resolution to be the last one to step foot across the fence.

             
They made it half way across the field when the light dropped and a few seconds later was replaced by a muzzle flash, and then another, and another. Sam whirled to see what the target was. They had finally gotten far enough away from the barn to be able to see the front of the compound. The farmhouse was surrounded by the dead, as muzzle flashes could be seen coming out of the windows.

             
A few of the dead had noticed the group moving across the field and had abandoned the farmhouse assault in favor of following them.                Mike’s gun fired again and a bloody naked woman went down. He could see several on the ground already and only a few still coming. He raised his pistol and fired most of the clip before his target went down. By the time he was done with that, Paul had finished off the other three; it had taken him three shots.

             
By this time the prisoners were already through the first fence and he could see Mark’s tall form working on the razor wire, in a few seconds they would be through, When Sam reached the fence, he was indeed the last one. He looked back towards the farmhouse and a fire in an upstairs window caught his eyes.

             
No more of the dead were heading this way. So he went through the fence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dark shape of the first guard mike had shot and rushed over and rummaged in his pockets until he found what he was looking. He rushed after the survivors to catch up. The taste of freedom helped the refugees pick up their pace, and they made it to the woods in just a few minutes.

             
At the farm house, they heard another engine fire up and turned to see the deuce and a half rumble away. At least one of the soldiers had managed to escape.

             
Mike and Sam herded the people deeper into the woods. The way back to the RV was much easier, they used the flashlights and they could already see the sky starting to lighten in the east. The group required several breaks along the way. Mike passed out a duffel bag of water bottles they had brought and some miniature snickers they had scavenged before setting off from the tower. It amazed Sam how fast such simple things raised the spirits of down trodden people.

             
The sun was up by the time they made the dairy plant, but Paul hadn’t made it back yet. The party collapsed around the big vehicle, the adrenalin finally failing them.  Food was passed out with the urging to take it easy. Mike suggested they let them rest for a while, and volunteered to take the first watch. Sam started to argue, but Mike cut him off.

BOOK: The Swamp
12.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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