“Look, don’t come down on me like that,” Ryan protested. “It fuckin’ jumped out at me. Okay, I bricked myself, but can you blame me?”
“All right,” Cahz said in a more conciliatory tone. “All right, point taken. It’s done now, anyway. We’re running low on ammo, so in future you back off and let me or Cannon handle it.”
“Look, I just reacted, man.”
Cannon snorted, “You’re reactions are shit.”
“You’re not helping, Cannon.” Cahz shot his subordinate an angry look. He turned back to Ryan. “You use that as a last resort. I don’t want any more fuck ups.” He looked at both men. “From anyone. Now let’s keep moving.”
Ryan nodded and turned his attention to his daughter. He slipped a pinkie into her mouth and the child instantly started sucking.
Cahz turned to start walking when he saw Cannon scoop something up from the track.
“Spotted something?” Cahz asked.
Cannon flicked a small grey object across the track. “It’s nothing, boss.”
With that Cannon marched on.
Curiosity tugged at Cahz. He stepped a little way off the track to see what had caught his friend’s attention. Almost lost among the gravel there lay a small hunk of grey plastic. Cahz picked it up and examined it as he walked. At first it looked cracked but when he took a closer look he could see what looked like crazy paving etched on it. He turned it over to see the familiar web of struts that formed the female part where the building bricks connected together.
Cahz held in his hand the patio to some child’s diorama. Some time ago, before all the madness and carnage, this lump of moulded and coloured toy would have been lovingly assembled in to a house or garage or some other plastic-bricked representation of the world.
A smile came across Cahz’s face as he considered how many children had played with this innocuous construction toy; how many hours of simple pleasure it had provided? Then, just as suddenly, he wondered how it had ended up on a railway track and where those little children were now.
As the smile fell from his lips, Cahz tossed the rubbish aside.
Ryan trotted up to him. “I only fired five shots,” he said. He had the magazine in one hand the gun in the other and he was trying to show Cahz the remaining bullets. “We’ve still got plenty of ammo left. Right?”
“There isn’t enough ammo left in the world,” Cahz said in a dry voice and picked up his pace.
Up ahead Cannon was negotiating a tree that had fallen across the line. He could see the big soldier scanning left and right for any hidden danger. Satisfied there were no surprises he hopped over the trunk to the other side.
Cahz hopped over the obstruction, leaving Ryan a good distance behind.
“How you doing?” Cahz asked as he caught up with Cannon.
“Saw a horse once,” Cannon said, looking back at Ryan negotiating the fallen tree. “Didn’t try to shoot it though.”
“When was that?” Cahz asked.
“A few years back now. We were on a tagging run. Remember them?”
“Sure do. Fucking waste of time, those,” Cahz huffed.
He turned back to Ryan as he jumped down from the obstruction.
“You wouldn’t believe the shit we’ve had to do,” Cahz boasted. “At one point we were capturing W.D.s and collaring them with GPS trackers. They wanted to see where the fuckers went, how far they travelled what behaviour they would exhibit.”
“Oh yeah?” Ryan asked. “Do any good?”
Cahz shrugged. “What do you think?” He turned back to Cannon. “You saw a horse?”
“Yeah, big brown thing with a white patch down its nose. We were flying over it in the chopper. I didn’t see it until the noise of the engine spooked it. It threw its head up and ran away across a field.”
“You never mentioned that,” Cahz said.
“No point. It was gone before I could say anything.” Cannon took a deep breath. “For a while I took it as a sign. I mean if a horse could survive on its own, then there was still hope.”
“I suppose,” Cahz said, not really sure where this was going.
There was a long pause before he realised Cannon had finished.
Cahz marched along the railway line, the gravel crunching under foot. A rotund black bird looked up at the party from its spot on the rusting track. Its black beady eyes focused on the trio and it cocked its head in the same way the zombies sometimes did. As they drew closer it opened its beak and cawed at them, angry at being disturbed. It hopped off its low perch, and too lazy or too cocky to fly away, it skipped off to the side of the track.
“I miss the birds,” Cahz suddenly said.
“The birds?” Ryan asked.
“On ship you get the odd seagull, but they just bray at you.” Cahz pulled a face as he recalled the distasteful sound. “Normally we’ve got the chopper thundering away but…”
He stopped speaking and looked up at the sky. Tall green trees overarched the track, their branches encroaching on the abandoned line. Every now and then, silhouetted against the grey sky, Cahz could make out the isolated shape of a nest.
“But out here now you can hear them twittering away.” Cahz looked back at the path ahead. “I’ve missed that.”
“There’s a lot to miss,” Cannon said in a cold voice.
“Yeah,” Ryan added. “What do you miss?”
Cannon didn’t answer. He kept marching ahead of everyone. “Ammunition,” he said eventually. “Right now I miss having a full belt.”
Cahz ripped open the Velcro tab over his ammo pouch. He knew exactly how much ammunition he had left, but he felt the need to check. With each pouch he opened he willed there to be a forgotten full magazine.
He said, “I’ve got one mag left since we refreshed them back at the office.”
As his hand fell by his side it brushed against something hard and square edged. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a magazine.
“What’s that?” Ryan asked, scampering over the gravel to get a closer look.
“It’s Angel’s spare clip.” When he saw Ryan’s blank expression he elaborated, “The sniper-the woman with the busted arm.”
“Oh, her,” Ryan said with a flash of recognition.
“I have no idea why I took it,” Cahz said, examining the magazine. “Guess in the rush when she handed me the pistol clips I didn’t think.”
“Why? Are they no use then?” Ryan asked.
“Wrong calibre,” Cannon said.
Cahz explained, “The pistol clips were fine. She uses the same pistol as us, but the rifle rounds are for the Drangunov. It takes seven point six twos.”
“Oh,” Ryan said, plainly lost.
“Cannon’s SAW or my M4 both take the standard NATO five point five six,” Cahz elaborated. “It means we can use each other’s ammo.”
“So what are you going to do with those then?” Ryan asked, looking at the magazine. “Just toss it?”
“Oh no,” Cahz chuckled. “Last thing I want is to make it back alive only to piss off Angel.”
Cannon laughed as he walked up ahead, “Sour-faced Commie.”
“Why’s she touchy about the ammo?” Ryan asked.
“She spends a lot of effort on these things.”
Cahz held the magazine out in front of him and twisted it, examining it like an ancient relic.
In a sense it
“Every one of these bullets was made by her,” he told Ryan. “She’s anal about the grains.”
“The what now?” Ryan asked.
“The amount of propellant that goes into each of these,” Cahz said, still focused on the magazine.
