“Do?” Mike asked, looking around as hundreds upon hundreds of zombies stepped onto the road. “We fight, son. That’s what we do.”
He unslung his rifle and aimed at the nearest infected. The .303 boomed, and a zombie fell. It collapsed in a tangle of limbs, a twisted snarl on its lips. Mike shot again and again. “Pull back! Pull back to your vehicles!”
Liam joined him, his pistol raining destruction on the nearest infected. His bike lay forgotten on the tar, and Mike shot him a look. “Get into my truck. Now.”
“But, Sir.”
“I said, go!”
Liam obeyed, and Mike kept shooting as he worked his way to his vehicle. His rifle was only one of many, and the air rumbled with the rolling thunder of gunfire. An occasional scream let him know another of his team was lost beneath the wave of corpses that surrounded them. “Move your asses, people!”
He could only pray they heard him. When his back pressed into the side of his truck, he whirled about and jumped inside. As he slammed the door shut, hands clawed at the window. Peterson followed a second later, flecks of blood marring his skin while Liam cowered in the back seat.
“What now, Sir?” Peterson asked.
“Mow the fuckers down,” Mike commanded with a vicious snarl marring his lips.
Peterson grinned and started the engine. “With pleasure, Sir.”
He jammed his foot on the gas, and they lurched forward with a grinding of the gears. The plow attached to the front hit the infected with a boom, and blood misted the air. Arms and legs flew everywhere, and the wheels crunched over countless bodies. Within seconds, the road was covered in a thick, jam-like mess of blood, entrails, and body parts. Their progress slowed to a crawl as the tires fought to gain traction on the slick mess.
Mike cracked open his window and shot into the crowd with his pistol. For every zombie he killed, two more took its place. He’d never seen so many at once, their rotten faces slavering for his flesh. “We need to get out of here. Take us back to the base.”
“Yes, Sir,” Peterson cried, yanking the wheel to the side.
The truck swayed from side to side as it attempted to turn on the slippery tar. More infected fell beneath the plow, and soon every nook and cranny below the hood was jammed up with fleshy goo. The engine whined with a high-pitched screech that stabbed into the skull like a sharp blade.
Mike cried out when the truck began to tip. “No, no, no. Straighten us out, Peterson!”
Peterson yanked the steering to the other side, but it wouldn’t move. “It’s stuck!”
“Hold on,” Mike yelled as the truck continued to tip.
With a crash, it fell over. Without his seatbelt to hold him in place, Mike tumbled on top of Peterson. The light faded to darkness as the infected mobbed the vehicle. Their bodies blocked out the sun.
Mike closed his eyes for a brief second. It was over. He knew that. Within seconds, glass rained down upon him as the window gave way. The first zombie slithered through the opening.
As the corpse fell on top of him, Mike raised his pistol and snapped off a quick shot. Blood, bone, and brains covered the inside of the cab, and Liam screamed. When another and another infected crammed inside, he accepted the inevitable. This is it, I guess.
“Liam. Peterson. Take care of yourselves. End it,” he cried before jamming his pistol into his mouth. His finger pulled the trigger, and darkness claimed his mind and soul.
Chapter 17 - Dylan
Dylan stamped her feet and blew on her hands. It was somewhere around stupid o’clock in the morning, and she couldn’t feel her extremities. “Why is it so cold? I thought it was supposed to be spring already?”
“It is, but you’ll still get your chilly days,” Nick said, handing her his jacket. “Take this. It’ll keep you warm until the sun comes up.”
“Thanks,” she said, shrugging it on. With her hands tucked deep into the pockets, she waited for the rest of the two bridge teams to assemble. “Is everything ready for the big fight?”
“Almost,” Nick replied. “The scouting and raiding parties have all returned, and we’ve heard from Parker’s team. They did what they could to slow the original horde and are on their way back.”
“What about Mike Hansen’s group?” she asked.
“We haven’t heard anything from them,” Nick admitted.
“I hope they’re okay.”
“Me too. I told Saul to give them as much time as he could before blowing the bridge,” Nick said.
“What if they don’t make it? And what if there are more survivors on the way?” Dylan asked.
“If they can’t get across the river in time, they’re on their own,” Nick said. “We have no choice. Those bridges have to go.”
Dylan nodded. “I know, but it sucks.”
“While you’re gone, we’ll get the last of the defenses in place,” Nick said.
“Please, make sure everyone is safe. Amy, Jenny, Alex, Amanda, Tara…the lot of them,” Dylan asked. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to any of them.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sending Amy and Jenny to the community center as soon as dawn breaks. Everyone else will stay in their posts. Tara will be in the lab, and Amanda is helping at the infirmary. Brenda and Rita are there too. If they stay inside, they’ll be safe.”
“And Alex?”
“He’s fighting with the rest of us. You can’t deny him that,” Nick said.
“I suppose not,” Dylan said with a deep sigh. “But keep an eye on him for me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Jackson waved at Dylan. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“This is it, I guess,” Dylan said, reaching out to Nick.
After a lingering kiss goodbye, she turned toward her team and climbed into the passenger seat next to Jackson.
He eyed her with a grim look. “Are you ready for this? Because I sure as shit ain’t.”
Dylan snorted. “Not a morning person, huh?”
“Not on your life.”
As Jackson drove away, Dylan’s last glimpse of Nick was his diminishing figure in
