***
It felt like an eternity had passed before her eyes flashed open. She lay face down on the river bank, encrusted in mud. With a gasp, she sucked in a deep breath only to choke as river water gushed up her throat.
She spasmed and flopped about like a fish until all the liquid was expelled from her lungs. Sweet oxygen fizzed through her veins, and her mind cleared somewhat. Explosion. Bridge. I was thrown into the river.
Pushing herself upright, she crawled up the bank. She was almost free of the water when cold, wet fingers wrapped around her ankle. A raspy groan was the only warning she got before teeth clamped down on her flesh.
Dylan screamed and kicked out with her other foot. Her boot caught the infected in the face, a lucky strike. Its teeth yanked free from her leg, and the zombie snarled with frustrated hunger. “Get off me, you dead asshole!”
Rolling onto her side, she continued to boot the thing in the face. Cartilage broke, teeth flew, and blood spewed from the zombie’s face as she kept kicking and kicking. Hope rose inside her chest when her hand closed on her knife’s handle, the one she carried on her belt. I can take one fucking zombie.
Her hand rose and fell as she stabbed the infected in the head. It collapsed with a groan, but two more emerged from the shimmering waters of the river. She scrambled backward as they advanced, each more eager than the other to get their teeth in her.
Suddenly, Jackson was there. He snapped off two shots, and her attackers dropped like stones. Ginger hauled her to her feet and dragged her up the bank.
“Come on,” he yelled. “Move.”
Dylan didn’t need any more incentive than that. The river was full of floating corpses, many of them still alive. Together, they staggered toward the waiting truck with Jackson bringing up the rear. She half-fell, half-jumped into the waiting vehicle, a whimper of pain on her lips.
“Get us out of here, Ginger,” Jackson called, pounding his fist on the roof.
Ginger obliged, and they spun away in a spray of mud and dead debris. Dylan twisted around in her seat and watched the scene fade away into the distance. The bridge was gone. All that remained was a ruined mess of steel and concrete. Smoke mushroomed into the air forming a cloud of death, but also hope. Sure, a few zombies might make it to the embankment, but most of them were either blown to bits or swept downriver.
A smile grew on her face until she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. We did it. I can’t believe we did it.
“What are you so happy about?” Jackson asked. “You almost got blown up and you were munched by a zombie.
Dylan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We did what we came to do. We blew up the bridge.”
Jackson thought it over until he returned her smile. “One horde down, one to go. You look like shit, by the way.”
Dylan’s head wobbled. “Thanks. Can I pass out now?”
Chapter 18 - Saul
“Damn it all to hell,” Saul swore, a set of binoculars pressed to his eyes.
He’d parked the truck on a rise overlooking the bridge, hoping to get an advance view of the scene below. Instead, he arrived just in time to witness the second horde crossing the Monocacy River at Point of Rocks.
There was no sign of either Mike Hansen or any of his people, and Saul accepted the inevitable. “They didn’t make it, or they’re holed up somewhere riding it out. I hope it’s the latter.”
“Sir?” Jason, his fellow teammate asked, peering up at him. The young man was a stranger to Saul, as was his friend Raymond. Both came recommended by Mac for their knowledge of explosives. Knowledge that now proved useless.
“Never mind, Jason. Please let Fort Detrick know that the second horde is en-route. We arrived too late to blow the bridge. Also, Mike Hansen and his people are still missing.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jason said, reaching for the radio.
While he relayed the news, Saul continued to gaze down at the horde. It was both a horrifying and fascinating sight. There were so many of them, thousands upon thousands. In their disregard for each other, they pushed forward without care. Several zombies tumbled off the sides and into the water below.
“There’s no way we can block them now. They’re coming,” Saul said as he climbed back into his truck. “We’d best fall back to the first line of defenses and make sure everyone is prepared. Are you with me, boys?”
“Yes, Sir,” they replied with eager grins.
As Saul drove back toward the city, he wondered what it felt like to be so young and eager for action. He couldn’t remember a time anymore when he looked forward to fighting. I’m getting old, and my joints can attest to that fact.
The next thought that occurred to him was whether Dylan’s party had been more successful than his. As he reached for the radio to find out, his question was answered by a series of loud booms in the distance. Not long after that, a cloud of smoke ballooned above what must’ve been the remains of the Sandy Hook bridge.
The two soldier boys with him whooped and hollered at the sight, and a sensation of immense relief flooded Saul’s body. At least one horde was taken care of. It doubled their chances of survival. And we will survive. We must.
They reached the city, and Saul inspected the various barricades built by Davis and his team. They’d demolished a couple of buildings and used the rubble to block off specific routes. That way, they could funnel the horde in the direction they wanted.
Several kill zones had been rigged up too. Areas filled with booby traps: Mines, claymores, drums of diesel and powdered laundry detergent forming poor man’s napalm, and holes filled with sharpened spikes.
Saul stayed away from these.
