The Undead World (Book 6): The Apocalypse Exile (War of The Undead) (33 page)

“We will go straight out in a line, staying low, ok? When I say ‘go’ start shooting. We’ll fire for thirty seconds and then we’ll retreat. Crawl if you have to. The second group led by Ricky will take up a position on a slant…you know, a diagonal. Stay hidden until the Duke’s men come after us and then, you know, light them up.”

Ricky nodded slowly as if expecting more. “And then what? You guys run away and leave us in the lurch?”

Neil’s mouth came open as his mind went blank. The only thing rattling around in his mind was  a whining:
Do I have to think of everything?
“Uh, no, of course not. The first group will set up a second line further back. We’ll shoot a few times to draw their fire and then we’ll all scoot out of there. That should give Grey enough time to escape.”

He looked around, basically hoping someone would come up with a better plan or at least point out the glaring flaws in his, which he was sure held plenty. All he received were shrugs and a lot of scared looks.

“Ok, then that’s the plan. Let’s go. First group, on me. When we clear these houses keep low and spread out.” They crept between the houses, staying close together. When they got to the last of the houses facing the airbase, Neil saw that luck was with them. The spotlights playing over the airstrips and the tall grass, illuminated the Duke’s men perfectly.

They were sitting ducks.

“Spread out and pick your targets,” Neil hissed. He then grabbed Sadie, who was about to scurry off. She had to feel how badly his hands were shaking but she said nothing. “I’m going to try to get closer to their trucks. If something happens to me, I want you to lead our guys out of here.”

Though she was just a shadow in black, Neil could feel her emotion coming off of her in waves. “Don’t leave me all alone,” she hissed. They were the last of their original post-apocalypse group—the list of the dead between their first meeting in New Jersey and right at that moment was long and sad. Too sad to think about just then.

“I won’t,” he lied, automatically. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Now Go.” He nodded off to their right. She gripped his arm with surprising strength and then left him, slinking low and quiet like a stalking panther. The others followed her.

Alone, Neil slunk to the left. He didn’t move with the same grace or silence. He couldn’t afford to. He had to get much closer than the rest and he had to get in position before Grey was found.

Sacrificing speed for stealth, he rushed forward, stopping when he heard a single gunshot from the field. Though he wasn’t an expert, he could have sworn it came from an M4, the same type of weapon that Grey carried. He was just stopping to try to catch a glimpse of what was happening, when there came a quick
pop, pop, pop
from his right. It was Sadie’s Glock!

Just like that, a barrage of gunfire erupted down the line to his right. His team was shooting. Who knew if they had targets in mind or if they were hitting a thing? It didn’t matter. Neil threw himself down and began squirming forward as fast as he could. He could see the legs of people just on the other side of the Duke’s truck. At first they crouched and then, one after another, they rushed to the nose of the truck, using it as cover from Sadie’s fire.

They were in a perfect position to die. Neil was twenty feet directly in front of them, hidden by the night and the tall grass. He didn’t even need to jump up. The Beretta came to shoulder height and his finger began squeezing off rounds right into them.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Two went down screaming. A third twisted as he tried to run; he fell hard against the hood of the truck and held it with two hands as if trying to wrap his arms around it in a hug. His gun clattered to the ground and, out of mercy, Neil didn’t waste another bullet on him.

Guns were going off all over the place and there was no way for Neil to know if he was being targeted or not. It almost didn’t seem to matter. He had a job to do, a mission. The warrior in him was full of passion for the fight. He leapt up and ran for the truck just as someone darted from behind the hood. Flashes of light blared in his face and the hot zip of lead whistled past him as he threw himself to the side, rolling to his right in the grass.

He came up with his gun trained but, whoever had fired from around the nose of the truck, hadn’t dared to come around. Neil wasn’t about to go charging at a prepared foe, but with time against him, he also couldn’t just lie there in the grass. The answer to his dilemma was right in front of him—the deuce-and-a-half, a smaller version of the five-ton, was still a tall vehicle; there was plenty of room for a small man like Neil to crawl under it.

With gun blasts erupting every which way covering the sound of his scraping along the pavement, he had crawled practically to the other side of the truck, when he saw a pair of black boots, the wearer of which was crouching in wait for him at the front of the vehicle. From three feet away, Neil fired his Beretta. There was a scream. A gun fell, forgotten and then there was a heavy thud as a man came down next to it.

It was a large bearded man; it was the Duke.

Neil brought the gun up to point into his face. “Please, don’t,” the Duke gasped.

The simple plea made Neil hesitate. He wanted to dissect his choices, mull them over, only he had no time. The renegades’ gunfire was slacking off. They’d be retreating any second, as he had instructed them and then Neil would be caught alone. He had to decide to take a life right there and then.

He thumbed back the hammer and fired very deliberately into the tire next to the Duke’s face. As the truck settled in that direction, he said to the Duke: “Let us go or I will kill you. This is your only warning.”

The Duke nodded, but if he had deception in his eyes the pools of shadow hid them. Neil scrambled backward, keeping his gun pointed at the Duke all the while. Once clear of the truck, he leapt up, ready to run, when he spied a small face staring at him from the half-cracked driver’s side window.

It was Jillybean. Again a crucial decision presented itself: should he grab her and run? Should he abandon her and get out of Dodge before it was too late for him, too? Should he kill her?

She helped his decision immensely by tossing something out the window at him. It was roundish, more egg shaped than anything and right away he knew what it was. Now there was no time for thinking. His world slowed. With a smile gleaming in the night, Jillybean disappeared from the window; this Neil saw only in his periphery, his focus was on the grenade which seemed to float, mockingly in the air.

How many times had he been in this position in his life? Picked last for backyard baseball because he couldn’t catch the easiest popup? How many sets of keys had gone clattering to the ground when tossed innocently his way? How many hand grenades, a second from turning him into human goo had been thrown at him? Just one and he couldn’t afford to miss it.

His Beretta went tumbling away as he stretched his fingers, forming a basket that couldn’t help but cradle the grenade if it landed neatly, which, of course, it did not. The grenade bounced off the heel of his palm, then off his wrist and the tips of his fingers, as he fumbled lamely for it. With a thunk it landed at his feet.

Was there time to pick it up? Was there time to run? Both answers were the same: no.

Jillybean was too smart for that. This wasn’t her first grenade. She knew there was a delay and she would’ve accounted for it. There was a clunk as the passenger side door was thrown open. The little girl was running, knowing the grenade was on the verge of going up.

Neil found himself frozen between the choices of running or trying to scoop up the grenade—a full second of indecision passed and then he was out of options. He would be too slow to pick it up and too slow to run.

The Duke’s men turned on command and came stalking back through the tall grass. Someone yelled: “Shift to your right by five big steps!” The entire line did so, putting one man on a course to walk almost over Travis’ legs.

Travis looked over at Grey; his eyes were comically big, but there was nothing funny about what was about to happen. They were going to be discovered for sure and the only question was if they were going to fight and die, or surrender and still, probably die.

Grey had his M4 at the ready position, answering the question.

The man came closer and closer. As he did, the sweat built up on Deanna’s palms and her pistol became slippery. She regretted having turned down one of the M16s. Those had a sling. There was no way she could drop one and lose it in the tall grass as she was worried she would do with her handgun. Hell, she didn’t even know what kind of gun it was. It was black and heavy and had a magazine that she could slip in and out with a little button on the side.

When she had accepted it, she didn’t think she would need more than the pistol. She was going to be with Grey, what more protection would she need?

Another step closer and, almost too late, Deanna saw that she was aiming at the same man as Grey—as if he would miss a target so close. She shifted her weapon toward the next man over, twenty feet away. It was a much iffier shot. The man was little more than a crouching shadow. Even if it were bright out, the shot would be...

Grey’s M4 suddenly seemed to explode. It seemed louder than ever, like a bomb. The line of men froze, all except the man who had been shot of course. He just toppled right over. When he thumped into the grass, all hell broke out.

Deanna popped up just at the height of the grass and fired her pistol three times; her target dropped but she had no clue whether she hit him or not. He might have dropped down to hide which seemed like an excellent idea. The entire run of grass was suddenly a maelstrom of gun flashes, bangs, and the deadly whisper of bullets zinging past.

She was crouched but that wasn’t good enough for Grey. He came flying over and smashed her into the ground. She could barely breathe with him on top of her. Instead of feeling protected, she was panicked. She needed him off of her so she could run. Running was a very sound idea in her opinion.

From her vantage, the entire world was gunning for them, which made Grey’s grin all the more strange.

“It’s Neil,” he said, his lips tickling her ear.

It’s Neil?
What the hell did that mean? She was having trouble putting two and two together. Not even when Grey whispered: “Start crawling,” did she know what he meant. He pointed back the way they had come and gave her a shove.

Far across the open fields and the airstrips, she could see tiny army trucks and even tinier men jumping off of them. He wanted them to crawl that way? Wasn’t their five-ton the opposite direction? And what in God’s name did he mean by:
It’s Neil?
Neil couldn’t be here and, if he was, then why the hell was he shooting up the airstrip? The bullets coming from behind the trucks seemed far more deadly than anything the Duke’s men were doing which was, essentially, cowering in place.

Grey pushed her. Reluctantly she started crawling. This time she crawled less like a professional soldier and more like an earth worm. Though her face was scraping the dirt she managed to crawl faster than she expected and in seconds Grey gave a light whistle and pointed to the right.

She turned ninety degrees and as she did a real explosion lit up the night. It looked as if one of the closer trucks on the east side of the strip had just erupted like a volcano. Grey gave her all of one second to blink at the sudden onset of light before he smacked her foot. He mouthed the word:
Go!
She went.

There was a pause as the firing died down and then the Duke’s voice could be heard screaming over the dimming violence of the night: “They’re getting away!”

Someone, seemingly very close, muttered: “Who the hell cares?”

“Get your ass up!” a new voice demanded.

The line of men stood. There were gaps here and there, but Deanna couldn’t believe so many had lived through all that shooting. She was surprised any of them had. But she was also happy—the men were advancing away from her!

Grey crawled up next to her and jerked his head for her to keep going. It was the perfect chance to escape. The Duke’s men were moving in a crouch toward the frontage road and had their backs to them. The three, Travis had come along as well, got to their hands and knees and began scurrying faster, moving parallel to the line of men.

Fifty yards into their fast crawl, the night again came alive with the sound of guns. This time it came angled from the side.

“Excellent,” Grey said. He jumped to his feet and then helped Deanna up. He didn’t stop to watch the show. He jogged in a straight line, keeping the fight on their right. Only when the firing died down again did he change course, this time angling in the direction of where he had left the truck. In Deanna’s eyes the course took them dangerously close to the fighting—to her, anything within ten miles was too close.

“They won’t be advancing anytime soon,” Grey explained, seeing the fear on her face. “They won’t want to taste that medicine a third time. Damn, Neil, you really came through this time.” His grin stayed in place until they neared the frontage road and heard the roar of engines. “Stop,” he hissed. His head was cocked to one side, listening. “Was that two trucks or three?”

Travis, who looked sick, said: “I think it was three.”

Grey grabbed Deanna’s hand and said: “This way,” just as he began to run at an angle. “There’s only one smart direction to take to get out of here. Let’s hope Neil is smart.”

They ran. It seemed useless. The five-tons were slow to start but they were faster than humans—unless, of course, they were being inexpertly driven. Even from a distance they could hear the grind of gears worse than ever. “Sounds like my Neil,” Grey laughed. He wasn’t winded in the least. However he saw Deanna was flagging and said “I’ll stop them.”

He kicked it into high gear and left her and Travis huffing. He didn’t have to go far. Two five-tons were making uneven progress down the road. The first of them took an alarmingly wide turn just in front of them. Grey ran up next to it and began hammering on the door.

Deanna heard an alarmed: “Where’s Neil?”

She was nearly spent as she came up and saw Sadie pointing back the way they had come. “I-I...he-he didn’t make it. The explosion I-I think. You should get in. He told me to leave if...” The girl in black couldn’t go on. She blubbered as if she was crying out the last of her soul.

Grim-faced Grey looked back the way the trucks had come. He stared for a long time before he began nodding as if coming to grips with the idea that Neil had died. “Travis,” he said in a quiet voice. “Drive this truck. Deanna get in with them. We need that third truck if we’re going to make it to Colorado. I’m going to get it.”

“Not alone, you’re not,” Deanna found herself saying. It was stupid she knew, but she couldn’t leave him. She didn’t know if she could ever leave him again. Neil had died alone. It wasn’t something she could ever contemplate happening to Grey, not right then. He didn’t argue and neither did Travis. He wanted out of there and fairly flew up the side of the truck.

Grey didn’t wait for the trucks to leave, he ran between them with Deanna’s hand in his. He ran softly, his step making barely a sound. She, on the other hand, ran in a shuffle, her feet so heavy she could barely pick them up. She never remembered being this far out of shape—then she recalled that it had only been that afternoon she’d been in a coma. It was no wonder that her muscles were quivering with exhaustion.

“Thank God,” she whispered, when she saw the five-ton sitting alone in the street just as they had left it. Grey hurried her to the passenger side and began to lift her into the truck when he stopped with her halfway up.

A looming figure had appeared out of the shadows, freezing the captain in place. He’d been caught unable to defend himself. Deanna’s gun was in her holster, but she was no quick draw.

There was dead quiet moment before the man said in a deep husky voice: “Captain Grey?”

“Yes,” Grey said, slightly shifting his weight. Deanna took that second to tighten her grip on the truck’s door. Grey was a blink from making his move. The man was too close for his own good. He was about to find out how fast Grey was—she hoped. She hoped Grey would be the quicker, or they would both be dead.

“Good. I was afraid you had left without me.”

“Neil?” Grey asked.

Neil stepped closer. His face was a bloody mess. Dark blood was streaming in multitudes of tiny rivers from a cut somewhere in his hair. “Yes?” he asked, in a somewhat dazed and tired voice.

“We thought...” Grey began and then laughed. “Never mind. Let’s get you out of here. You don’t look all that good.”

Deanna stepped down to help Grey get Neil up into the cab. She knew that they had to be running short on time. The Duke had to have heard the trucks. If he was going to chase after them, it would be in the next few minutes.

The second Neil was in the truck Grey ran around and got in as well. He thumbed the start button, asking: “What the hell happened to you?”

“It was Jillybean,” Neil answered after swallowing, with a sticky sound, as though he was scraping old blood from the back of his throat.

“Her,” Grey said, angrily. “I knew she was behind this.”

Neil shook his head and then nodded. “Yes and no. She threw a hand grenade at me, but...but she hadn’t pull the pin. I swear it was the bad girl in her who threw it, so why didn’t she pull the pin? She was trying to kill me, I know it. She had that nasty grin of hers...but she hadn’t pulled the pin. It makes no sense.”

Expertly, Grey threw the truck into first and gunned the engine. They spurted forward and a moment later he was in second gear and gaining speed. “So if there was a pin in the grenade, how come you look like that?”

“Oh, right,” Neil said, touching the blood on his face. “Well I threw the grenade at this other truck and uh, and uh, I’m not too sure what happened. I think I got hit by something when I was running away.”

As Neil touched his head again, Deanna stole a peek in the side view mirror fearing that she would see the Duke’s men in an angry mob chasing after them with guns and torches. The mirror was all together black.

“Anyway, I kinda found myself lying in the grass,” Neil said, with much grimacing as he explored his wound. “There was some shooting and yelling and who knows what, so I just staggered over to the trucks, but they left just as I came up. Pretty much all I knew at that point was that I had to get out of there and that this truck had to be nearby, so I went searching for it. That’s it. That’s my whole story.”

“Well it’s a damned good story,” Deanna told him. “Sadie will be happy to see you. She was a wreck.”

He sighed. “I worry about her so much. She’s lost everyone. In a way, she’s been kicked around like Jillybean. I just don’t want her to, you know, lose it.”

“Then we’ll get her to Colorado,” Grey said.

Neil glanced at his watch. “Yeah. We’ll go tonight,” he said. Grey snapped his head around but Neil only gave him an exaggerated shrug. “Look, the Duke knows we’re here in the city. If he hasn’t already, he’ll throw roadblocks over every way out of here. We’ll be trapped and it’ll be just a matter of time before he finds us. We’re basically out of ammo, our water will be gone by tomorrow and, I’m sorry to say this, but Marybeth doesn’t have much of a chance, anyway. We are leaving, with or without you, Grey.”

“I say we go,” Deanna said. As much as she liked Marybeth, she was desperate to get out of the city. To her, the city felt like the gaping mouth of some tremendous demon and somewhere in the dark sky its teeth were starting to close in on them.

Grey drove in a smoldering silence for a long time. It wasn’t until they pulled into the warehouse and saw Sadie cast to the side, alone and weeping, that he nodded his head. “Ok, we’ll leave in twenty minutes,” he told Neil. “Deanna, help Neil down and see that his orders are carried out. I’m going to go talk to Michael.”

“I’m fine,” Neil told Deanna. A second later he collapsed in her arms as he tried to get out of the truck. “Just a little woozy,” he said. “I think I might need some stitch...” he stopped as Sadie came rushing up.

“You?” she said and then began to blubber and smile at the same time. “Never count out my Neil. Never. That’s what I told myself but I didn’t believe, but I swear I will from here on out. I swear.” They hugged and wept. Deanna backed away, fearing that they were celebrating too soon. The jaws of the demon were closing. The Duke wouldn’t let them go so easily. He had Jillybean on his side and she knew too much and she was just too smart, and she was a demon in her own right.

“Ok people!” she yelled. The renegades were casually sitting in groups, talking about the one-sided battle, each boasting about how many of the enemy they had killed. The way they spoke, one would have thought they had routed the Duke instead of fleeing into the night, and that two-hundred dead bodies were stretched out in the tall grass waiting for the crows to come feast, instead of the four or five that was the likely number of dead on the other side.