A Pound of Flesh: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (29 page)

“Oooh, that’s right. Ed was about to have to
give the toothless hillbilly a hummer,” intoned Ari. “That’d give
me nightmares for sure.”

“Sorry I mentioned it,” Cade said as he
opened his eyes and looked onto the reservoir, where he spotted one
of the larger vessels which had apparently broken free from the
main grouping. The vessel spun clockwise in a slow lazy circle.

Desperate faces turned upward as the nearly
silent Ghost Hawk’s shadow eclipsed the twin hull, aluminum and
fiberglass party barge which was out of control and drifting
steadily towards the dam’s edge.

Loaded to the point of overflowing, the
runabout had seen better days. The twenty or so survivors onboard
huddled in a knot in the only respite from the unforgiving sun, a
tiny patch of shade cast from the boat’s flapping canvas roof.

“No gas. No oars. No hope. They’re effed,”
the usually quiet Maddox added out of the blue.

“Yeah... they’re hosed,” Tice said
matter-of-factly as his camera whirred, snapping images to take
back to Schriever.

“Do you have to?” Lopez said. “You making a
new
Many Faces of Death
movie or something? You guys lost
your humanity?”

A man of few words, Maddox merely shrugged
his shoulders.

“Just following orders
Lopez
,” Tice
spat. The CIA man had butted heads with a couple of the Delta
operators since embarking on the mission to retrieve the stolen
nukes. And Lopez’s constant banter and good natured ribbing was
doing little to win him over. If anything it was driving a wedge
between Tice and the remaining members of the close knit team.

Lopez uncrossed his arms and held his palms
up. “I’m just saying... that those people are deep in the
mierda
down there. You don’t need to record it for our
future generations. Besides Mr. Ansel Adams you are wasting your
time... cause there probably won’t be anyone left to gawk at your
pictures anyways.”

“There is a reason I’m attached with you
D-Boys... and it’s got nothing to do with my photo composition. And
it certainly is not in direct proportion to how much I like and
admire you cocky assholes. In case you all forgot there are still a
number of nukes unaccounted for—”

“
Oh no, do not do that... sit back
down,
” Ari said over the comms, cutting Tice off. “That party
barge, starboard side at two o’clock... she is going over. I
estimate thirty bodies are going in.”

“Copy that,” Durant replied from the left
seat. “Looks like most of them are wearing flotation devices.”

At the sight of their potential rescuers,
every soul aboard the
Happy Hour
had stood at once. Then the
entire throng foolishly rushed the port side of their floating
sanctuary, eyes tracking the black helo, waving their arms in the
air like they were in the Packer’s end zone encouraging a ‘Lambeau
leap.’ The vessel suddenly listed as the added bodyweight
overwhelmed the pontoon directly underneath; the barge submarined,
rolling over in slow motion, pitching all aboard into the tugging
current.

Every man aboard Jedi One-One watched the
horror unfold as the barge capsized and the people were sucked
under.

“C’mon Ari... let me go hot,” Hicks begged,
finger on the mini-gun trigger. “They’ve got thirty seconds,
tops
, until they hit the Zs.”

Owl-like, Ari twisted his neck, acquiring eye
contact with Cade. “What do you think Captain?”

“There’s not enough spacing to use the
mini-gun without some collateral damage,” proffered Cade.

Down below, one by one, the survivors broke
the surface, their mouths silent O’s sucking in air.

Cade quickly weighed his options as the
Happy Hours
passengers bobbed atop the water and drifted
towards the water bound zombies.
Shit,
he thought. And then
knowing full well that there wasn’t any way to kill all of the
hungry Zs before the helpless men, women and children were
delivered into their midst, Cade made the toughest call of his
life. “Come back around and put her in a tight hover,” he bellowed
as he moved to the sliding door and clicked the carabineer attached
to the safety line onto his loadbearing gear. “I can’t turn my back
on them and I
will not
sit here and watch them get eaten
alive.” He quickly triaged the situation. He knew full well he
didn’t have enough time to remove the MSR sniper rifle, assemble it
and bring it to bear on the dead. His only other choice was the
SCAR, which he knew was a highly capable battle rifle for close in
combat. Shooting long distance from a stationary position with the
SCAR was doable—shooting accurately from the hovering helicopter
was another thing.

“Ari, take me closer.”

“Copy that.”

Immediately the Ghost Hawk yawed sideways and
a blast of hot air entered the open door buffeting Cade’s face.
Because of the engine whine and gusting wind, the inside of the
helo had become a difficult place to communicate —even with the
onboard comms.

“
Perfect, Ari!
” Cade yelled. He aimed
towards the mass of Zs as the first of the floating survivors made
contact. Bracketed in his cross hairs, a young boy’s face, all
terror and silent screams, filled the optics. Calming his breathing
and clearing his thoughts he prepared to enter the shooter’s zone.
He had no time to calculate wind, elevation, or range—besides,
doing so hastily in the hovering helo was almost a lost cause
anyway. He was going to have to adjust fire after each miss. Cade
knew that kind of thinking wasn’t positive but it was the reality
of the situation. He caressed the trigger. The silenced rifle
bucked slightly as the round left the muzzle. A geyser of white
erupted a foot to the left of the towheaded kid’s orange life vest.
Shit!
Adjusting aim, he said, “Hicks, open fire on my
command.”

“Roger that,” Hicks replied grimly.

Cade’s second shot found its mark. The zombie
nearest the boy stopped reaching and slumped forward, still wedged
firmly in the spillway grating. Cade shifted aim and in moments a
half dozen creatures on either side of the boy were stilled by his
steady controlled shooting.

The young boy clambered from the bloody
water, sprawling atop the wide walkway, his orange life vest rising
and falling with each labored breath.

“Ok... I take it I’m shooting the Zs?” Hicks
shouted.

“Mercy kill
only
if a civilian is
being attacked,” Cade ordered. Then he added—mainly for Hick’s
benefit—“You’d be doing them a favor... because they’re as good as
dead anyway.”

Cade quick changed magazines and continued
dinging the Zs, his accurate head shots widening the safe area.

“Eleven o’clock!” Durant called out over the
onboard comms.

Half a dozen floaters who had been swept wide
and to the left found themselves in harm’s way. The living fought
valiantly as they made contact with the dead, pushing off and stiff
arming the monsters to avoid being bitten. But the current and
their heavy clothing were too much to overcome.

Cade saw the writing on the wall when the
water frothed red from the feeding frenzy. Though women and kids
were among the dozen or so who were in the dead’s clutches, he was
left with no choice. “Do it, Hicks.”

The starboard side mini-gun erupted with an
ominous tearing sound as Hicks walked his fire through the roiling
crimson chum.

Body parts floated to the surface and the
water went still.

Cade briefly clamped his eyes shut and
uttered a prayer for the fellow Americans he had just ordered
euthanized.

More than half of the people thrown into the
water followed the young boy’s lead and crawled over the buoyant
dead to safety.

The dead on shore, drawn by the black
helicopter, copious amounts of gunfire, and the visceral screams of
the dying, streamed to the cyclone fencing which had been placed
there to keep people from accessing the narrow catwalk atop the
dam.

All that for nothing
, Cade said to
himself, knowing the fence wouldn’t stand for long.

Seeing the same thing, Ari replied casually,
“Don’t relax yet people... you’re going to have some more running
to do. Hell Durant, that fence might as well be made of wax
paper... I give ‘em five... maybe ten minutes
tops
.”

The apocalypse continued to amaze even Cade,
always presenting newer and nastier visions for his subconscious to
hold onto while he was awake, only to replay in nightmare form at a
later date. He had already seen enough of the
floating dead
for a lifetime’s worth of nocturnal horror features so he made the
appropriate call. “Nothing more we can do for them. Ari, get us out
of here,” he said, impatience evident in his voice.

“Wyatt... haven’t you heard the saying,
revenge is a dish best served cold?
” Ari countered,
evidently implying they had plenty of time to get to Jackson
Hole.

“That phrase has crossed my lips on more than
one occasion Ari. But we are burning daylight... and JP-8. Let’s
get a move on, and that’s an order.”

“Copy that... point taken,” Ari replied as he
looked back into the cabin and nodded respectfully to the newly
promoted captain.

Issuing orders still felt a little unnatural,
and truth be told Cade had a strong suspicion leading this team on
the mission to the NA capital in Jackson Hole wasn’t going to be
easy. With Mike Desantos’ passing and General Ronnie Gaines opting
to stay behind at Fort Carson to oversee the ongoing Z eradication
and the daunting ongoing task of resupplying Schriever, the young
captain found himself thrust into the leadership role. That this
wasn’t a ragtag band of apocalyptic survivors was a big relief.
Been there, done that
, Cade thought solemnly; these guys
were seasoned Tier One operators. He had led a team of combat
veterans before, both in Iraq and Afghanistan, and he had no doubt
that it would all come rushing back to him the moment his boots hit
the ground.

Ari coaxed the Ghost Hawk forward low and
slow, passing only a dozen feet over the exhausted survivors, and
then continued north, following the serpentine reservoir and
keeping close to the slow moving water on the back side of the
Flaming Gorge hydroelectric dam.

The shipboard comms crackled to life.
“Starboard side, eight bodies. Appears to be...seven children and
an adult female,” Hicks said. “And they are currently hailing
us.”

Standing out in sharp contrast against the
pristine white superstructure atop their single mast sailboat, the
badly sunburnt survivors jumped up and down, gesturing wildly.

“Captain Grayson, permission to hail the
crew?” Ari asked.

After a moment’s thought Cade replied, “We
can’t pick them up so what do you propose we do?”

“Give them a little hope,” Ari quietly
answered. With pangs of guilt from leaving the passengers of the
Happy Hour high and dry stabbing him in the gut, and the painful
and not too distant memory of the mercy killings at the old folks
home outside of Atlanta still fresh on his mind—helping these folks
in any way—even indirectly—would go a long way towards reconciling
his Karmic account balance.

“Go ahead Ari,” Cade said, knowing full well
the eight souls below were as good as dead already.

Ari tapped the glass touchscreen, switching
the comms to the ship’s outside speaker. “Survivors... we cannot
take you onboard. We will try and send help. Stay put and await
rescue.”

Crestfallen, the children stopped waving and
slowly lowered their arms, then the woman, displaying her obvious
disappointment, fell to her knees on the boat’s teakwood deck.

“That didn’t have the effect I was looking
for,” Ari admitted. As far as the group still being alive if and
when help arrived—that fell somewhere between slim and none—and if
this was a hand of Texas Hold’em, Ari thought,
none
was
holding a pair of pocket aces and had just pushed his chips
all
in
.

As the dam disappeared behind them Ari
addressed Cade. “You are one
lucky
man, Captain
Grayson.”

“How so?”

“Your family is safe and sound behind the
wire. Mine... not so much. They went missing when Fort Campbell
fell.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Ari,” Cade offered
solemnly.

“I’ve come to grips...with a little help from
Mark. Mr. Makers Mark.”

Is this man ever serious?
Cade asked
himself. “As far as
me
being the beneficiary of good
fortune,
luck
had nothing to do with my family making it out
of Bragg. My wife willed herself to Schriever. She didn’t give
up...
no matter what got in her way she dealt with it in order
to protect our daughter.
”

“You’re shitting me Delta. You had
nothing
to do with it?”

Cade swallowed hard. “Not directly... I just
told her where to find safety and who to trust. That’s all,” Cade
admitted.

Durant entered the conversation. “Who helped
her out then?”

“Desantos,” Cade answered quietly.

Stabbing a gloved finger at the sky Maddox
broke in, “Cowboy, you old warhorse, I’m gonna miss you.”

Every head in the bird, including Ari’s,
tilted for a moment of silence and then, after an appropriately
timed sign of the cross, Lopez spoke over the comms. “My
madre...she was in Albuquerque. She didn’t pick up the phone the
last time I called her...before the
mierda
really hit the
fan.”

Cade looked over to notice that Lopez’s
entire body was shaking. Whether it was sorrow or rage, he had been
there often since all of this bullshit started and he certainly
wasn’t one to judge Lopez because of his display of emotion. The
stocky Hispanic operator had been nothing but professional since
the moment they met, therefore Cade harbored no reservations that
Lopez was good to go. Furthermore he held no reservations about
trusting the man with his life.