Saul was less than thrilled. “Do we get our guns back? How many infected are we expected to fight? Where is the attack taking place?”
“I don’t know,” Tara admitted. “But it was the best I could do. The major refused to let you go otherwise.”
Saul grunted, not looking at all happy about the situation.
“What about Ethan?” Dylan asked.
“He’s sitting this one out,” Tara said.
“Good idea,” Dylan replied. “He’s probably the only one of us who hasn’t killed a zombie yet.”
“Move it, people,” the lead guard said, beckoning them to follow.
They were rushed out of the cellblock and emerged into the darkness of the night. Above their heads glowed a new moon and a thick carpet of stars. Lights were placed at strategic intervals to illuminate the way ahead, and a cold breeze ruffled their clothes.
In the distance, the muffled sound of gunfire rang through the air. It lent a sense of urgency to their mission, and they all broke into an automatic jog.
Dylan was in her element. It felt good to stretch her legs and get fresh air into her lungs.
She could feel the oxygen rushing through her veins and pumping into her muscles. She was more than ready for a fight. She ached for it.
Their prison, a nondescript brick square, faded from view as they ran toward another, equally bland-looking building ahead. Both featured barred windows set high up in the walls and a wash of beige paint. Two soldiers guarded both. That must mean there’s something to guard.
Dylan slowed to a walk as they neared the entrance. “What’s in there?”
To her surprise, the soldier in front, their leader, answered in mild tones. “It’s an armory. After the outbreak, we set up several small armories scattered throughout the base. That makes it easier for us to resupply in a hurry during an attack by the infected.”
“Who are you, if I may ask?” Dylan said.
“Sergeant Dean,” he replied before approaching the two soldiers at the door. “We’re here for a pick-up.”
“For the civilians?” one asked.
“That’s right.”
“Go ahead. Mac is expecting you.”
Inside, they encountered a small room cut in half by a wooden counter. On top of the bar lay an empty duffel bag and an array of weapons. Yet another soldier stood behind the counter sorting through the various guns, knives, and ammunition on display.
He looked up when they entered and nodded to Sergeant Dean. “Is this them?”
“Yup. Is everything ready, Mac?” Sergeant Dean asked.
“I think it’s all there. Everything they brought with them in the Humvee,” Mac said, waving his hands over the counter. “Help yourselves.”
“You heard him,” Sergeant Dean said. “Gear up. We’ve got zombies to kill.”
Dylan wasted no time at all. She rushed forward and grabbed her machete, waving it around with glee. “This is more like it.”
After sliding the sheath onto her belt, she added a combat knife as a spare blade. Next came the Glock, still tucked into its shoulder holster along with its four loaded magazines. She checked the load, grateful to be armed once more. Lastly, she picked up her spear, giving it an experimental whirl that sent several soldiers ducking out of the way with cries of alarm.
“Dylan!” Tara said with a frown of disapproval.
Dylan shrugged. “I wasn’t even near them.”
While Tara and Saul collected their things, Dylan smoothed her hair back and tied it into a tight knot. She left her jacket unzipped to allow access to the shoulder holster and made sure her skinny jeans were tucked into the top of her boots. She also removed her gloves and scarf, tossing it onto the counter. They’d only hamper her in a fight.
Satisfied, she announced, “I’m good to go. Just show me the way.”
Tara and Saul signaled their readiness, and Sergeant Dean took the lead at a swift jog. They ran into the night and toward the fence, sporadically hitting pools of yellow light along the path.
To Dylan, it felt surreal, like they were making their way through a giant disco, especially with the rising beat of gunfire in the background. That changed when they reached their destination. Suddenly, it all became real.
A cacophony of sound enfolded her mind. Shots blasted into her eardrums, officers shouted commands, and the infected howled with never-ending hunger.
Her stomach twisted into knots, and her adrenalin levels spiked as they neared the spot where the fighting was most concentrated. She stumbled to a halt and took a moment to assess the situation. It didn’t take much to see that the base was in serious trouble.
A line of soldiers fought along the security fences that flanked the Veterans gate. A barricade reinforced the gate, and rolls of barbed wire glinted in the surrounding spotlights. A horde of zombies clawed at the barrier with eager fingers, not caring when they shredded their flesh on the wicked razors.
On top of the barricade was a mounted fifty caliber machine gun operated by two men. A constant barrage of bullets streamed from its muzzle, cutting through the ranks of the undead. But even as she watched, it stuttered and died as it ran out of ammunition.
Soldiers scrambled to take up the slack, forming a line of rifle fire several feet wide. Despite the hail of lead, the undead appeared unstoppable. When one fell, two more took its place. Even worse, the growing mound of bodies gave them a foothold, and they crawled over each other’s corpses like ants.
The first zombie reached the top and tumbled over. A bullet to the head took it down, but another one followed. And another, and another. They swarmed across the barricade and fell onto the nearest soldiers with predatory instincts. Screams filled the night, and blood soaked into the dusty earth as men lost their lives to tooth and claw.
Dylan gaped at the scene with horrified fascination, flanked by Saul and Tara. Sergeant Dean and his two fellows threw themselves into the fight, not caring about their charges. Swallowing the fear that threatened to undo her, she glanced at
