Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Book 4): Walking In The Shadow Of Death (16 page)

Brad reached down and grabbed Hahn
under the shoulders, attempting to move him. Hahn grimaced in pain. “Just help
me up, I can walk dammit,” he mumbled.

Brad pulled him to his feet and
walked him towards the far side of the porch and away from the primal bodies. Sean
dropped his pack and they set Hahn up against it. Hahn collapsed, leaning back
against the building. His left arm was hanging limp, his left hand a crumpled
mess, his entire torso covered in blood. Most of his body armor had been torn
away.

“What happened to you, you sure
you’re not bit?” Brad asked.

“Yeah, if I was bit I woulda turned
by now … I kept waiting for it to happen, I was ready to off myself if the
symptoms started. But it hasn’t happened, no fever yet,” Hahn whispered.

“You’re not bit? Scratched?” Brad
asked.

“I’m fucked up. They got ahold of
me, then chewed the shit out of my hand and forearm … but the bite shirts and
Kevlar gloves, yeah, they fucking work. “

“No shit,” Brad said as he moved to
examine Hahn’s arms. He could see that there were teeth marks in the leather of
the Kevlar gloves, but no punctures. The fingers looked to have been smashed
inside the material. Hahn’s left forearm had depressions in the material and
his uniform shirt was torn away, exposing the bite shirt underneath. The bite
shirt was made of tightly woven Kevlar fabric; they had been issued to them
back on the island. There were doubts that they would hold up against an
attack. A dog would easily rip the material apart, but human teeth are not the
same as a dog’s. Brad used his gloved hand to feel Hahn’s arm. He could feel
lumps of torn and mashed flesh underneath, but the compression of the shirt was
holding his arm together. To Brad it felt like someone had tenderized a steak
inside of a freezer bag.

“I know it’s bad. I think they
dislocated my elbow too, I can’t use my arm,” Hahn said.

Sean moved forward and cut away
more of the bloody outer uniform shirt, exposing the bite shirt. “Brad, give
him some of the painkillers, shit, antibiotics too,” he said as he used a
bottle from his bag to rinse away the primal blood.

Brad looked through the bag,
staring at the bottles of medications. “What do I give him?”

“Make him a cocktail, I don’t know
but we need to get moving, we can’t stay here,” Sean said, lifting Hahn’s mangled
arm so that he could remove the material below it. Hahn gritted his teeth and
grunted in protest. “Hahn, I’m not going to remove the bite shirt and risk
exposing the wound to the contaminated blood on your uniform. I’m just going to
immobilize it for now, okay?”

“Do what you got to do,” Hahn said,
shaking with pain.

Brad finished clearing the wounded
area so that Hahn’s arm was now resting tightly against his body. Then Sean
rushed into the cabin and came back out with an armful of bedding from one of
the bunks. He quickly cut a bed sheet into strips and used it to make a sling
that he attached to Hahn’s arm. Brad interrupted Sean just long enough to give
Hahn several pills.

“I don’t know what’s what in here,
but these were locked up. Must be the good stuff,” Brad said skeptically as
Hahn took them and swallowed water heavily.

“What happened here, Hahn?” Sean
asked as he continued to work.

“Huh.” Hahn looked up into Sean’s
face. “It was those Marines. The Villegases. They came back last night on that
snow mobile, rode it right up into the yard.”

“Why would they do that, they led
them right to ya!” Brad exclaimed.

“Yeah, we argued about it, but they
didn’t listen. They told us they lost them out there in the woods. They said
they were cold and didn’t want to freeze. According to them they are experts at
evasion, they figured nothing would be able to follow them.”

Sean wrapped a long strip of the
bed sheet around Hahn’s torso, suspending his arm. “Okay, so they followed the
brothers back. Got it, but where did they go?”

Hahn coughed again, spitting more
blood onto the plank porch. He paused, then took a long draw of water. “Last
night, it was late, everyone had turned in. Somehow they got past Parker on
watch. They were in close before he noticed them. Parker was the first to sound
the alarm, but too late to do anything. The primals attacked the door right
off. Piling against it, moaning and fighting. But these were the fast ones, the
strong ones.

“When they could see that the door
wasn’t going to give they put their attention on the window. They ripped off
the shutters and broke the glass. We fired on them, stopped the first attack,
used up all of the belted SAW ammo pretty quick, but more came. Lots of them …
More fast ones. They hit the front and the sides. We decided to break out of
the back, make a run for the tree line. Me and Parker kept them busy at the
front while the others slipped out.

“The boy, he and Nelson led the
way, the Villegases right behind them. They put down covering fire for us to bail
out. Parker and I made a break for the back. I shoved him out of the window but
one of those things got my arm, latched onto me like a German shepherd and
pulled me to the ground. I gut shot that fucker before Parker killed it. But it
bit me, fucked up my arm and fingers. I thought I was done, infected you know,
I told the others to get, to leave me.

“I fought my way back into the
cabin, just kept shooting and fighting, trying to keep the mob focused on me so
the others could escape. The damn things got inside so I made my way to the
attic and kicked down the ladder. The smelly bastards kept coming. I killed
them till my rifle was dry. I saved me some rounds in the pistol, I figured
maybe I’d save one for myself.

“I killed them all, all of ‘em. I
thought the fever would take me, I waited for it all morning, but I never
turned. I guess whatever nasty shit is on their teeth never got through the
Kevlar. But they still messed me up, I can’t barely move my arm. I know they
did me good, I can feel the blood in my glove.

“I musta passed out. When I heard
you all talking I tried to get down. Guess I fell, it fucking hurt,” Hahn said,
chuckling.

Sean squeezed the man’s good
shoulder. “You did good, Hahn, and looks like our guys got away thanks to you.”

When Sean had finished slinging
Hahn’s arm he leaned him back against the cabin wall and covered him with a
heavy blanket, then allowed him to rest while the drugs kicked in. Sean opened
a new water bottle and placed it in Hahn’s hand. The wounded man took it and began
to sip, stopping to cough and spit blood out and onto his chin. Hahn coughed a
bit more then gave an exaggerated chuckle. “Maybe I broke a rib or two … I know
I look bad … but shit, did you see the other guys?” Hahn grinned, indicating
the inside of the cabin.

Brad gave Hahn a concerned look as
he tucked the blanket in around him. Sean grabbed Brad’s elbow. “Brad, can you
help me take a look inside? We need to collect our rucksacks and salvage what
we can before we move out.”

Brad turned to look back at Sean
who wore the same concerned expression. He followed Sean into the cabin. The
space was turned upside down. The bunks were knocked over, and all of the
furniture was destroyed. The floor was littered with mangled and broken bodies.
The ladder that led up to the attic was destroyed at the top rungs, and a
grotesque pile of bodies lay at the bottom of it. Brad walked to the wood stove
and felt the top. “Stove is still warm, let’s go. They can’t be too far ahead
of us. Sean, I don’t think there is anything in here worth salvaging. Or
anything I would want,” Brad whispered.

“Oh yeah, what about those?” Sean
said, pointing at a large male primal’s feet. “They look to be the right size
and toasty warm.”

“No, come on man, fuck no, man, that’s
gross,” Brad said, looking at a set of heavy leather boots strapped to the
stocky legs of a nearly decapitated body.

“Beats frostbite, and you aren’t
going to last long with wet and frozen feet,” Sean said. “Hey, at least they
look broken in, so you won’t get blisters.”

“I don’t think I can do it. No, I’m
okay, these boots have served me well. I’ll be okay.”

Sean grunted before kneeling down
to untie the boot laces. “You know what, buddy, I’m gonna help you out and pull
these off for you okay? But that’s not the real reason I brought you in here.”

“Yeah?” Brad said, trying not to
look disgusted at the thought of wearing primal boots.

“It’s Hahn, he’s messed up bad, I
don’t know that he can travel,” Sean said.

Brad reached down on the kitchen
floor and picked up a can of roast beef. He looked at the label and tossed the
can in the air, catching it with his free hand. “Yeah, but we can’t leave him.”

“I know, leaving him
alone
isn’t an option,” Sean said.

“Alone?”

“Someone has to stay with—” Sean
was interrupted midsentence by the sounds of moans.

Brad turned and walked towards the
open window. Five to six staggering figures were moving up the driveway. “We
have company.”

Sean tossed the boots at Brad’s
chest before rushing back out onto the front porch with Brad close behind him.
When the creatures spotted them on the porch their moans got louder. Brad
started to raise his rifle before Sean stepped in front of him. “Let’s save our
ammo. We can take these slow ones down the old-fashioned way,” Sean said as he
reached down and picked up the large splitting axe from the wood pile.

Brad clipped his M4 back to his
vest. He returned to the cabin, searching the floor. Finding what he was
looking for, he reached down and lifted a long iron fireplace poker. He moved
back outside. Sean had removed Hahn’s sidearm from his holster and placed it
into Hahn’s good hand. “We’re gonna take care of these guys, we’ll be right
back,” Sean said, looking directly into Hahn’s eyes. Hahn nodded. His eyes had
grown glassy and his face had lost expression. Apparently whatever drugs Brad
had given him were working.

Sean put his hand on Hahn’s
shoulder before turning to face Brad. “You ready to go to work?”

“Let’s do it.”

The group of primals that shambled
up the snow-covered driveway were slow. They staggered and often fell, being
easily tripped up in high drifts of snow. Brad and Sean watched them, almost
amused at their behavior. They didn’t stick together, even though they seemed
to have a common goal: to go after the living. But their plan of attack wasn’t
coordinated, not like any they had seen with the Alphas, not even like the ones
they had fought in the desert.

Brad and Sean moved towards the
group of them, then spread apart to the left and right side of the mass. The
primals seemed to be confused by this, not knowing which direction to go. Then
the pack started to drift to the right towards Sean. Brad yelled and waved his
hands, distracting them and drawing them back in his direction.   All
six of them liked the invitation; they locked on Brad and staggered towards
him, now seemingly uninterested in Sean.

Sean held his position as Brad, who
was now walking backwards, began leading them to the center of the field and
away from Hahn and the cabin. Brad slapped the poker against his gloved hand,
pulled his tomahawk from its sheath with his left, and clanged the metal
weapons together, further agitating the slow-moving crazies. Brad began
taunting them, yelling obscenities. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart
and urged the primals to get him.

The primals now completely engaged
on Brad had become oblivious to Sean, who worked his way behind the group. Brad
continued to yell obscenities and bang the ‘hawk and poker together,
infuriating the primals. Brad grinned as he watched Sean move up on one of the
trailing primals. With a heavy overhand swing of the axe, he split a primal’s
head. The thing tumbled and collapsed into the snow without any of his comrades
taking notice.

“Damn, Sean, these things are dumb
as hell,” Brad yelled over the moaning creatures.

Two of the primals had closed to
within ten feet of Brad who was still moving backwards at a pace just fast
enough to stay ahead of them. “You want to see just how dumb?” Sean yelled.

The sound of Sean’s voice stopped
the creatures in their tracks; they turned to see Sean standing directly behind
them. Brad froze, not moving or making a sound. This was enough to distract the
primals. They clumsily twisted in the snow, changing direction and heading back
towards Sean. As soon as the two closest to Brad had turned their backs to him,
Brad lunged forward. He split the back of the nearest primal’s head with his
‘hawk, the blade sticking in the back of its skull. Brad let go of the handle
and let the creature take the ‘hawk with it to the ground.

Brad took three quick steps towards
the next primal. Now gripping the poker two-handed he swung hard and slapped
the creature in the side of the head. There was a large whack as the iron
connected with bone. The primal stopped and fell to a knee but didn’t go over.
It turned its head to face Brad, a look of recognition hitting its face as it
opened its mouth to scream at the nearby prey. Brad lifted the poker over his
head and crashed it down onto the primal’s skull, silencing it.

His actions and the primal’s
momentary scream had turned the remainder of the pack back towards him and away
from Sean.  Brad gripped the poker tight as he casually walked back to the
first downed crazy and removed his ‘hawk from its skull. He looked over his shoulder
to see that the remaining three primals were still following him. “Yeah, they
are satisfactorily stupid,” Brad yelled out just as Sean swung with the axe and
knocked over another primal that had turned his back on him.

With two left, Brad continued to
walk back and lead them towards him. Sean closed the distance on the trailing
primal. He used the head of the axe to poke it in the back. The primal stopped
and turned around just as Sean swung, removing its lower jaw with a baseball
swing. With one left, Brad stopped moving away from it. The last primal was
shirtless, its skin ashen and frostbitten. Parts of its flesh were torn and
bitten away. There were remnants of gauze bandages loosely hanging from its
neck.