The Renegades (A Post Apocalyptic Zombie Novel) (13 page)

T
here was
no easy way around this. Specs wanted to kill them out of pure vengeance. Whether we got the weapons back or not, it mattered little to him. Dax had stepped over the line and killed someone in front of us. Truth was, what little humanity existed before the virus spread, was gone. If this shit storm was a car, we had gone from zero to sixty in two seconds. It was pure survival now. We knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us, and we knew we wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.

Inside, the walls were made of corrugated steel pipe. It was large enough you could have driven around inside. Specs had squiggled an outline of what it looked like. Essentially it was like taking a massive steel cup and placing it in the ground, except that this cup had different levels, each one joined by a series of steps. Some in the town said Specs’s father had built it inside an abandoned missile silo, others felt it was just a large shaft. Whatever the hell it was, he’d put a lot of work into building it. Their entire life savings were wrapped up inside this. They had built five levels inside with the intention of only using one level for themselves. To offset the cost of getting it made, they had put the word out in the preppers community, to see if there were any other families looking to take a level. Specs said two other families had gone in on it. They planned on using it as a vacation spot over the summer period, and a safe haven when doomsday occurred.

When I had asked where the concrete was, he explained. Behind the steel was concrete that was nine feet thick. The steel was used to prevent damage from an earthquake. His father thought of everything — except humans killing him. As we made our way closer to the metal steps that led up to the next level, I noticed how everything was curved in this place. We passed by a series of large metal tanks that Specs said held water.

The steps that led up to the surface were at the center of the core. They wound around a concrete post in the middle. I glanced at my watch, it was well after five. We moved as a unit with Baja at the back to cover us. Every step up made my heart beat a little faster. Specs had told us that if a firefight occurred inside, to drop to the floor and use whatever might be in the way as a shield as bullets would ricochet off the corrugated steel.

On the next level Dax held his hand up to indicate to us to hold our position, he had obviously spotted someone or something. Turning back he held up three fingers and whispered, “Three in beds at one o’clock.”

Now we’d been told that if we could get in and gather the weapons and get out, that was the goal. Our intentions were not to harm them, but if they were armed we weren’t to think twice. To anyone hearing about this now, they would think it was insane. Dax had killed one in cold blood. But that hadn’t been the case. The guy had reached for his gun. Could Dax have placed him in a lock hold? Tied him up? Possibly. He made a call. We weren’t going to argue with that. I think we each knew that our time would come. That we would all face the inevitable choice of life or death. Some would argue that there is always a diplomatic way of dealing with things. I hate to say it, but in an apocalypse, diplomacy goes out the window. Everything that makes up society; our laws, morals, and rights are brought into question. The line between what you should do, and what you must is razor thin. I had never killed anyone in my life before this happened. But when people are shooting at you, or have killed one of your own, you have little choice but to defend and protect yourself and the others. And that was one thing I would do even if it cost me my own life.

Each of us carried zip ties. We had gathered them from the military surplus store. Dax gestured to Baja. He came up front. Without saying any words, we knew what we had to do. Each of us would take one of the men sleeping. The others would hold their legs while we zip tied and gagged them.

We charged in and leapt at them, like a panther pouncing on its prey. Fast asleep, they didn’t know what had hit them. Jess covered the mouth of one man, Baja and I flipped him over and zip tied him. We had managed successfully to do it with two of them, but the third one struggled hard and shouted.

“Intruders.”

That was the only word he got out before Dax knocked him out cold. We were now working against time. The sound of boots above us on the next floor resounded. We moved into position with our assault rifles ready to unleash hell. However, the men didn’t come down. They knew it would have been suicide. The steps were narrow, and like a helter-skelter slide. They would have rushed into a hail of bullets. No, they were smarter than that.

“Listen up. Whoever you are. You are outnumbered and we have more than enough weapons to hold you off. Now we’ll give you one chance to lay down your weapons. We don’t mean any harm,” someone called down.

To which Specs replied, “Yeah, like the way you raped and killed my family?”

There was silence.

“I don’t know what makes you think we would do such a thing. But I can reassure you. That our group is not hostile to anything other than the dead.”

“Bullshit. We heard you.”

“Again, I don’t know what you heard. There are a number of us here. Now if anyone has caused harm without being threatened, they will be dealt with. All I can tell you, is that under my command, that would not have happened. I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“And you are?” Dax shouted.

“Colonel Burrows. 14th Platoon.”

“Marines?”

“Just me. The others are civilians.”

“Well, Colonel, you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Like?”

“What would amount to a truckload of weapons and ammunition taken from a store in the town.”

“I didn’t see anyone’s name on them.”

“They weren’t yours for the taking.”

“We didn’t take them. They were given.”

“You left one of ours dead.”

“Nope.”

“You think we’re lying? Your group opened fire on us.”

“Again, I think you might have us confused with someone else.”

“Enough with the bullshit,” Specs yelled.

We could hear whisperer above us, then movement. Dax motioned for two of us to move closer.

“How about we call a truce? Talk this out? No one has to die here today.”

“One of your men is already dead.”

“Then you have a problem, son,” the Colonel replied.

While Dax and the Colonel were still speaking with each other, I took the weapons from the three guys and what ammo I could find and then we had Jess and Izzy move down the staircase slowly, one by one. Dax and I were going to be the last ones to go. Dax made it clear in no uncertain terms through whispering and pointing that there was no way we were going to be able to get up there without one or more of us being shot. I didn’t like it. But the fact was, the layout of the underground shelter didn’t allow for easy access to the next level. Our element of surprise had gone out the window and now we were potentially facing an all-out war. Outgunned, outmanned, and with a declining amount of ammo, we knew they had the clear advantage.

The sound of boots running back to where the Colonel’s position was above us was our signal to get out. As much as I didn’t like the idea of going back through that tunnel, it was better than the alternative — certain death.

Sure enough, we were just about to follow the girls and make it to the ground level, but they must have seen or heard Specs, as just when he stepped onto the ladder, shots rang out and Specs fell to the ground returning fire with one arm. He’d been hit in the other. I moved forward and dragged him back with the help of Baja while Dax fired several rounds up. The bullets ricocheted.

There was a brief pause, then a can bounced its way down the stairs. This was followed by an explosion, and a flash of light. They had dropped a flash bang. My ears were ringing. I had diverted my gaze too slowly and now I was blinded. What ensued next was total chaos. I had no idea what direction I was facing. The others were firing off rounds which meant the Colonel’s men were coming down.

“Johnny. Johnny, move it.”

I put my arm out trying to feel for anything. We were already on the ground floor. Dax grabbed up a steel rod on the ground and we ran out of their shelter. He slammed the door behind us and jammed the rod in, so it couldn’t be opened.

“That’ll hold them for a while.”

We didn’t stick around to see if they would make it out.

Minutes later we were back through the small gap and making our way home.

I stopped while the others continued walking. Dax turned around.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

He continued walking. A few more feet then he looked back again.

“Johnny.”

“No. We came here for a reason.”

“We stay, we die. We are outnumbered and outgunned,” Dax replied.

“How do we know? Can we really be sure?” I said.

“I’m not taking that chance. You’ve already jeopardized one life.”

I looked at Specs who was clinging to his bloodied shoulder. The others stared on.

“We leave now, we’ll have to run as they will come after us,” I said.

“Maybe. But we face them on our terms. On our ground. Where we can see them.”

“He’s right, Johnny. It’s suicide to stay. We had our opportunity,” Baja added.

“So you are giving up?”

“No,” Specs stepped forward. “If anyone wants them dead, it’s me. But he’s right, Johnny. We need to regroup.”

I looked back at the hole between the rocks. I could hear the faint echo of them banging. No doubt, they were trying to get out and come after us. I nodded in agreement.

“Right.” I exhaled hard and reluctantly joined the others.

On the way back we passed a series of small openings in the rock, enclosed by wooden doors. They were called powder rooms. I had seen them on the way down. There had to have been at least ten throughout the tunnel. It was only when we were coming back that I took a moment to look inside. The doors were tightly sealed together. Specs said it’s where they stored dynamite, blasting caps, and fuses. Inside the one I was looking in were four cases of unused dynamite.

“These look ancient?”

Dust and rubble covered the thick wooden cases. They were each stenciled with words that read:

“What do you think?”

“Depends how long it’s been there. The older it is, the more unstable it is,” Specs replied. “Once the nitroglycerin seeps out it wouldn’t take much to make that explode.”

“So carrying it back would be an issue?” I said.

“Who wants to volunteer to take a peek inside the boxes?” Baja asked.

Everyone backed up a few steps.

“You might want to back up a little more,” Specs said before moving on without touching it. We kind of figured that meant we weren’t going to be taking it. I thought about the kind of damage that could do. It was directly below the town. It showed how long it had been since anyone had been this far deep underground.

Once we made it back, Izzy immediately wanted to tend to Specs’s wound. There was a good amount of blood. He’d been shot in the right shoulder. He would live, but the bullet would need pulling out and with the hospital a good ten minutes away, and probably full of Z’s, Izzy suggested doing it the old-fashioned way. A scalpel, gauze, tweezers to pull it out. Unfortunately we didn’t have a scalpel so a sharp knife would have to suffice.

Jess cleared off the dining room table and Baja helped him up. Specs’s face had gone pale. He was sweating hard. Shock was beginning to set in.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Quick, get him a bucket,” Izzy said.

Baja pulled out the garbage can and tossed the trash to one side. He handed it over and Specs leaned into it.

“I’m sorry, man,” I said.

“What do you have to be sorry about?”

“If I hadn’t taken us in there, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Forget it. It’s not your fault.”

I watched as Izzy began to get to work. Jess grabbed a bowl of warm water and some towels.

Dax tapped me on the shoulder. “A word. Outside.”

We climbed up onto the roof. The early morning sun was beginning to beat down. We moved away from the skylight. We were close to the edge of the building. Main Street had more Z’s staggering along. Moaning, and one was chewing on what had to be another fresh kill. Had a person come out to get supplies? How many more people were alive?

“The next idea you have to turn this around, keep it to yourself.”

“I was just trying to do what was right for the group.”

“Do you have military experience?”

“No, but neither do you.”

“What?” He bristled at what I’d said.

“Cut the shit, Dax. What is your problem?”

“You. You’re reckless. It’s the very reason dad sent you to that juvenile reform center.”

“And you’re a saint?”

He dropped his eyes to the ground and ground his teeth together.

“Don’t spin this around. You’re the reason why your friend is laid up in there with a bullet in him.”

I nodded slowly, contemplating what he was saying.

“Thanks for reminding me.”

I turned and walked away. I spent the next few hours away from the others. The truth was, I was to blame for it. If I hadn’t convinced them to come along, Specs wouldn’t have been shot. Where do you go when a zombie apocalypse hits, and you fuck up? When those around you know it was a dumb move, but they won’t say it — except for your brother.

I took out my frustration on Z’s. I eased myself down into an alley and took out my baseball bat. I saw two Z’s chewing on a body. They looked up and before they could react I brought my bat down on their skulls like Thor’s hammer. Somewhere in the back of my head, I thought that I must have been doing some good by eliminating another biter or two from the planet.

A thought came to me. Did they see me? How did Z’s know we were there? We knew noise brought them. But was that it alone? Could they smell the difference between the living and the dead? None of them ate each other. They only went after the living.