“Go, go, go,” a soldier yelled, slapping the side of the truck. He then turned Jacob around and, pushing him forward, said, “Let’s go, friend, keep up.”
Jacob stared as the truck slowly moved away. With the gunfire erupting all around him and not knowing what else to do, he chased after it. He watched as the soldiers fell in beside him, turning often to check their rear for pursuers. They were moving fast but not fast enough; the truck was pulling away and the mob was closing on them.
Jacob heard screams of agony as the swarm overcame the man in flannel. The soldiers stopped; one of them grabbed Jacob and turned him toward the center of a quickly forming protective ring. Jacob looked at his surroundings and realized he was the last civilian remaining on the street, encased in the human shield provided by this group of soldiers. Hearing the screams and seeing the black eyes approach, Jacob swung the rifle from his back and held it tightly in his arms.
“Make ’em count, boys!” a soldier yelled.
The soldiers fired with chaotic precision. Jacob watched them take quick shots into the crowd and work as a team, covering each other as another reloaded. Jacob moved to an edge and prepared to fire but was quickly pushed back to the center. Once the initial wave was cut down, the men were back on their feet, shouting orders, and directing Jacob in the direction the trucks had gone. The mob began to close in again; Jacob saw the Humvee as it circled back over the sidewalk and lawns. Its engine at a high roar, it raced past them and skidded to a stop in the street. With the Humvee shielding them from the advancing swarm, the big gun on its roof let loose a barrage. A thump, thump, thump resonated from the big gun up in the turret, ripping the charging mass apart.
Following the soldiers, Jacob ran and took cover behind the Humvee with two other men. The big gun cut down wave after wave of the charging forms while other soldiers covered the sides and backs. The gunfire became deafening; it disoriented Jacob, and he put his hands to his ringing ears. When the gunner stopped firing, the street was suddenly quiet. Jacob turned and saw through the billowing blue smoke that the transports had moved on in the chaos.
The tight mass of soldiers began reloading magazines while holding their position and watching the surrounding neighborhood. Jacob felt lost in the group, and he looked to the soldier next to him. The man was middle aged—maybe late thirties—and looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His weather-beaten face was dirty and stubbly with the makings of an early beard. He wore a tattered army uniform; the sleeves were torn, and there was a long rip in one pant leg of his trousers. The man’s knees and elbows were covered in dirt and blood.
“Where did they go?” Jacob asked.
Pushing loose bullets into a magazine, the soldier replied, “Back to the park. We’re staging folks there before moving everyone north.” The soldier finished with his task and looked up at Jacob. Seeming to notice the way Jacob looked him over, he continued, “Yeah, I ain’t much to look at; it’s been a rough week.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”
The solder waved his hand, dismissing Jacob’s apology. “You know, I saw what you did back there,” the soldier said. “The man on the truck.”
“I won’t apologize. He wouldn’t let my wife on the truck,” Jacob said.
“Yeah… he was an asshole. I’ve lost a lot of good men the last few days. I won’t be shedding any tears for that one,” the soldier replied and then extending a gloved hand. “By the way, my name’s Murphy.”
Jacob returned the handshake. “I’m Jacob.”
Murphy gripped Jacob’s hand firmly and pulled him in close so the others couldn’t hear. “Listen, I ain’t gonna sugarcoat this for you. They’ll be back and when they come, they’ll come hard. You need to get that weapon up and be ready to use it; do you understand? You can’t cower.”
“I got it,” Jacob said, suddenly unsure of himself and missing the security of his second-floor safe zone.
More screams erupted from all around them, signifying the things were out there roaming the backyards of the homes.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Murphy said under his breath. The soldier then rose to his feet and yelled as he brought up the rifle, “Lock and load, boys—it’s time to pay the bills!”
The mob had somehow managed to completely surround their position. Instead of coming back at them from down the street, they had slipped through the backyards and were pouring at them from between the houses. The turret gun opened up, sweeping and hitting everything it could, and the soldiers on both sides of Jacob fired their rifles. Jacob pulled the .22 rifle tight to his shoulder and took aim before pulling the trigger, switching targets until his only magazine was empty. Then he drew the handgun from its holster.
The deranged things had gotten in close. He watched as a soldier was hit from behind and knocked to the street. A black-eyed man tried to drag him away, and as another soldier went to his aid, he was quickly taken down with him. More climbed over the hood of the Humvee and swamped the mounted machine gunner from behind. The gun fired wildly, the gunner refusing to be taken down without a fight.
Jacob looked up the street in the direction the trucks had moved. He stood and contemplated running after them. His hands were shaking with fear. His ears were ringing from the close proximity of the gunshots, the screams blocking out his thoughts. He raised his pistol when he saw another wave of the mob closing on
