Green Fields (Book 4): Extinction (11 page)

We reached the opposite bank more or less intact, and with a fountain of gravel flying out behind me, I managed to get the car up out of the riverbed. There was some underbrush up on the bank but it was no match for my mighty bumper. We broke through about two hundred yards south of where the two cars stood jammed together, swarmed by a mass of zombies. It looked like we were already too late, but I could still hear shots being fired, so I aimed right for them.

“Any last minute advice?” I pressed out between gritted teeth, asking myself not for the first time today why I was doing this. No sane animal headed into danger, but only ever away from it.

“Try not to total the car,” Nate said. When I grunted, he offered a brief laugh. “Get as close as possible. I’m going out.”

“You what?” I asked, but it was already too late. He had the door open and threw himself out, ending in a crouch after a spectacular roll. I made a sharp left turn to throw the door shut again, ending with my rear toward the zombies. In front of me I saw the other three cars coming for me—a somewhat unpleasant sight in and of itself—but didn’t hesitate to throw the Rover into reverse and slam it right into the mass of zombies with as much precision as I could. Which was to say, I kept going until the rear bumper hit metal, then sent it back forward, each and every bump I went over giving me just a hint of satisfaction.

Rifles were going off all round me, and as soon as I was clear of the worst of the fray, I stopped the car, popped the buckle of my harness, and exited myself, shotgun at the ready. There was no time to get my face gear on, but I was sure that I was far enough back that it wouldn’t matter. So far, inhaling a little of aerosolized zombie hadn’t done any damage. It was more the bleeding gunk all over me part that I tried to avoid.

With twelve people closing in rapidly, the about fifty zombies were soon down on the ground. I got to squeeze off a few rounds, but mostly kept myself to guarding their backs. Martinez and Charlie went in to pull the people from the car that lay toppled over on its side; the other was still functional and only got stuck when they tried to rock the first one back upright. The scent of gasoline lay heavily in the air—cloying enough to be ominous even over the stench of decay—and as soon as the two wounded were clear, Jason called for a retreat. I watched as they were pulled into the back of the Land Cruiser—our impromptu ambulance vehicle—while Burns got back behind the wheel, barking at Martinez and Cho to haul ass.

Glancing around to make sure that no zombies had manage to sneak up on us from the other side, I jumped into my own car, with Nate only seconds behind. I took off as soon as I was strapped back in. Someone must have thrown a grenade at the wreck because it went up in flames moments later, a scenic backdrop to the five of us speeding away, heading straight for the first bridge. There were zombies everywhere, scattered across the plain, but most were feeding on their fallen, ignoring us.

I allowed myself to relax as we reached the other river bank once more, heading back south without further delay.

“How bad are they off?” Nate asked once all the cars were clear.

It took Martinez a few moments to reply, likely because he was still busy patching them up.
 

“One’s looking good, just a little banged up. Sprained ankle, maybe a few broken ribs. The airbag broke his nose, but I think the blood’s all his.” He paused for a moment. “The other has a long gash straight across his back. He’s unconscious right now so I can’t assess how his torso’s doing, but lungs sound clear. Could have been from some scrap metal, but there’s gunk everywhere.”

Shit. That didn’t sound too good. My thoughts were echoed when I heard Jason curse over the com link.

“I’m fine,” an unfamiliar voice replied, presumably the first patient. “Fucking suckers surprised us. They were just there, from one moment to the next. One of them slammed right into my windshield and I panicked. Next thing I know, we’re jammed together sideways, and they’re coming through the broken windows. Safety glass, my ass. Boss, I’m sorry—“

“No need to cry over spilled milk,” Jason replied, his voice uncannily soft. “Can you still shoot?”

“Sure thing.”

“Mind if he stays with you guys?” Jason asked.

Burns was quick to respond. “With Martinez busy trying to do some bona fide battlefield surgery right there in the back, we’re a man short, anyway. Would appreciate the help.”

“Awesome,” the not-patient replied. “You got any spare ammo? I’m all out.”
 

“Crate’s right behind the driver’s seat,” Burns said. “Help yourself.”

With the rocky meadow mostly clear ahead of us, I chanced a glance at Nate. He was looking grim, confirming my guess about the fate of the second merc—and maybe the first, too. We’d already lost one of our own to a wound that he hadn’t even felt getting. Something in the zombie saliva was so fucking neurotoxic that it immediately took out the pain receptors around the wound. Only time would tell if Jason was about to lose one or two of his guys. Either way, it wouldn’t happen until long after this operation was over—whether we won or lost.

Fifteen minutes later, we were around the river bend with the flood plains opening ahead of us, letting us catch a first glimpse at the settlement again—but that wasn’t what drew my eye. I stared for several seconds straight, until I hit a boulder and the resulting jostling tore me out of my stunned silence.

“Are those fucking tanks?”

The smile spreading on Nate’s face wasn’t something I got to see often. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it.

“Actually, that’s an ABV,” he said, chuckling under his breath at my blank stare. “Armored Breacher Vehicle. What amounts to he lovechild of a tank and a bulldozer. Combat engineers use them to clear IEDs. Didn’t think we had any left, or personnel trained to handle them. Looks like I was wrong.”

Now that we’d rolled to a halt, I couldn’t stop staring at the thing. From up closer, it looked exactly like Nate had described it—a tank with a plow attached in the front. One of them even seemed to have some kind of crane attachment, although that was folded square on top of the vehicle. As we kept watching, the hatch of the one closest to us opened and a man looked out, wearing what looked like regular army combat gear. He shouted something at us but we were too far away to hear. At Nate’s nod, I brought the Rover forward until we were in shouting distance. And because just opening a window wasn’t impressive enough, Nate had to climb back and open our own hatch, as if we had to prove anything. Next to those forty-foot long behemoths all of our cars looked rather diminutive.
 

“I’m Nate Miller, of the Lucky Thirteen. That over there is Jason Luke, leader of Luke’s Chargers. I presume you’re here to help us with the cleanup?”

“That you might say,” the guy in the tank—ABV, or whatever; to me it was a tank—replied. “Lance Corporal Daniel Watts. We’re not exactly an operational unit anymore.”

“Sappers?” Nate guessed.

“Out of Fort Leonard Wood,” Watts replied. “Got a few of our babies still up and running. Listen, do you guys have a signal scrambler up? We tried hailing you since yesterday when the guys from the radio network called out the warning, but we didn’t get through.”

Getting out of his own car—and looking comparatively small—Jason eyed the vehicles with a similar grin as Nate’s, if maybe lacking a little bit of innate pride. Must have been army pioneers, I figured. It was a thing between the guys.

“We had some issues with long-range communications,” Jason offered. “But short-range works great. Got something to write down? We can give you our team frequencies.” They quickly exchanged the details, Watts repeating them to whoever else was with him in that thing, and presumably the other two vehicles as well.

“You’re truly a welcome sight,” Nate said. “We just got back from drawing as many of the undead fuckers as possible away from the settlement, but as you can see, that still leaves quite a lot of them. Particularly if you have to work with rifles and guns to get rid of them.”

“No problem, that’s what we came here for,” Watts explained. “We usually patrol this area, up into Iowa to the munitions plant near Burlington. Had some issues after a tornado busted up our barracks. Next thing we hear, Harristown is under siege. We tried to make it here by sunrise, but clearly you guys were faster. Hope you don’t mind that we waited here for you to come back?”

“At least you still left some of the shamblers for us,” Nate joked, looking out over the plain toward the settlement. Across the distance it was hard to guess, but there must have been a few hundred zombies left. I wouldn’t have minded seeing them all gone, but having tanks for backup was the next best thing.

I expected Nate to talk strategy next, but he paused to watch Burns climb out of his car to join us, standing next to my window. “You guys from Fort Leonard Wood? Did my sapper training there.”

“What’s your name, soldier?” Watts asked.

“Sergeant Thomas Burns. Not that rank matters anymore.”

Watts’s eyes went comically wide. “You’re not that Tom Burns, right? Who blew up ammo bunker seven on a dare? You’re a legend, man!”

Nate gave Burns a look that was part considering, part condescending. “Was that before or after we did ordnance training together?”

“Before,” Burns provided, laughing. “I got demoted for that stunt. I’ll never know why they didn’t kick my sorry ass out. Must have had other plans for me.” It didn’t pass by me unnoticed that he scratched the back of his neck, a sure sign what he thought the army had had in store for him. “Anyway,” Burns continued. “I was wondering, would you guys mind giving me a ride in your sweet digs there? We have two wounded in the back and jostling them around doesn’t sound like too much of a plan. Cho can easily defend the car while I’m having fun. If that’s okay with you, boss? I’ve always wanted to see the inside of one of these monsters.”

Nate offered a shrug, while Watts looked weirdly excited. I made a mental note to drag that entire story out of Burns later.

“Sure. We’re a man short. If you’d man the machine gun, that would be great. Or do you want command over the rocket launchers? We’ve upgraded our baby quite a bit…”

A little perplexed, I watched as Burns climbed up onto the ABV, chatting away as if he and Watts were old friends. I wondered if that was an army thing, too, or just plain Burns. Probably the latter.

Nate climbed back into his seat in the meantime, pausing when he noticed me still staring at the ABVs. “What?”

I made sure that my mic was turned off for now. “Those things come in mighty handy, right?” He gave me a “Duh!” look. “Don’t you think that’s rather convenient?” I asked.

“Are you complaining?”

I shook my head. “Just paranoid, is all.”

“Considering how often fate slaps us in the face, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth,” he replied. “Besides, I doubt they would have let Burns over there if they were up to no good. All hero worship aside, you saw that Watts checked us both out?”

I nodded. With full gear, not much of the marks was visible, but enough to let anyone who knew what he was looking for find it.

“They look legit to you?”

“As legit as they need to be,” Nate told me. “Need anything else, or can we get down to business? A potty break maybe? Or some candy to take your mind off the task ahead?”

I glared at him, already reaching up to engage my mic again. “You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” And knowing him, that was the truth.

As soon as Watts and the drivers of the other two ABVs joined our com channel, Jason and Nate quickly coordinated the second wave of attack with them. In the meanwhile, the other group got into position up on the slope where everything had started what felt like a small eternity ago. I listened in, not having much to contribute myself, sucking down an entire bottle of water in the meantime. The temperatures were climbing rapidly now, making it stifling hot in the unmoving car.

I had no idea what the not-quite tanks usually were armed with, but from what I gathered the engineers had spent the entire winter tuning and retrofitting them, turning a vehicle that was built to dispose of mines mostly into a moving fortress that could just mow through the undead hordes with their insane number of fifteen hundred horsepower. Hearing that, I stopped wondering where they got the ammo from, and instead marveled that they were still operational. It was one thing to fuel the five cars of our unit, with almost every broken-down vehicle on the road still having enough in the tank that we could syphon off. I doubted the ABVs would burp at what the Rover was running on for days easily.

Latent anxiety and fear made it impossible for me to let my guard down, but as we drove further south, getting into position on this side of the river to where we were straight across the plain from the settlement, I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit better about this when we remained behind and only the ABVs drove straight into the fray. And, man, did they move fast.

Not knowing the first thing about armored vehicles in general, I’d expected them to be kind of slow, lumbering hulks, but they accelerated at about the rate of one of our SUVs cross-country, and plowed right into the remaining mass of zombies as if it was an open field of grass. Body parts and gore splattered everywhere, making me grimace as I watched through the binoculars. The zombies didn’t get much time to react, and anything that got too close was toast. Several explosions ripped deep gouges into the moving field of bodies, and the steady rat-rat-tatt of the machine guns did its own to chew into them. As gruesome as the show was, it made me feel kind of useless. Of all the things that I’d expected to happen today, that wasn’t one of them.