“About damn time,” Baker muttered.
Bretz sat up straight. “You should get back to your truck,” he suggested. “Depending on what’s on the other side of the bridge, we might not have much time to bust through.”
They exchanged a fist bump and Baker jumped out of the cab. Bretz leaned forward, looking up to see how the chopper pilots were going to pull this off.
Two Apache gunships roared overhead, slowing down as they approached the bridge. The zombies underneath turned their attention to the flying fortresses, shambling out towards the road. The two war birds hovered about three hundred yards from the bridge before one of them descended, finally stopping about three feet off of the ground. It centered itself on the road and then opened fire.
The two mini-guns on either side of the chopper spun, sending thousands of rounds of hot lead down the road. The front edge of the zombie mass liquefied, vanishing in a spectacular spray of bone and blood.
It took a few moments, but the zombie mass started to melt away, like piping hot tap water on a block of ice in the sink. For a solid thirty seconds, the bullets flew, destroying everything in sight. Finally, the bullets ran dry, and Bretz could see through the mass to the other side.
The first chopper lifted up, moving away from the battle, while the second one dropped down and turned towards the trucks. It lowered down enough so that Bretz could see the pilot, who motioned for them to follow.
The Corporal grabbed his CB, barking, “We’re on the move!” He popped the truck into gear and raced forward, the rest following behind.
He picked up steam to make it past the carnage on the road. While the zombies weren’t a threat anymore, the puddles of gore on the ground could be an issue if their speed was too low. As he hit the front edge of the massacre, the truck fishtailed a bit, slipping on the liquified corpses.
“Watch it, the road’s slick,” he said into the radio.
Bretz pushed through, getting to the other side of the bridge just in time to see hundreds more ghouls on the road. They were spread out, but still a potential threat. As he pressed up the street, the gunship angled itself while moving forward, unleashing another torrent of mini-gun fire.
The pullets peppered the horde, ripping them to shreds and clearing a path for the trucks. The fire was sustained, shredding everything in their way.
The road took a long curve before leading to the bridge, forcing the pilot to maneuver some fancy flying. He continued firing as he made the adjustment around the bend, unleashing the last bit of ammo into the horde.
Unfortunately, there was a large pack of ghouls surrounding a small hatchback that couldn’t be seen, and the hard fire hit it in just the right way to start a fire.
“Watch it, we got a burner!” Bretz barked, and sped past the car.
As Baker passed it, the car exploded, and he lost control of the truck, slamming it into the median before skidding off of the road.
Bretz immediately slammed on the brakes as all of the other trucks behind his friend were forced to stop. Several of the zombies still standing made their way towards the fallen truck.
The Corporal didn’t hesitate, grabbing his rifle and hopping out of the truck, running as quickly as he could towards Baker. As he ran, he looked up and noticed the pilot frantically pointing towards the bridge. He glanced over his shoulder to see a pack of zombies in the dozens were a hundred yards away and closing.
He ran as fast as he could as the Apache flew off. There was another second or two of mini-gun fire, before it ceased and the chopper headed for the coast. Bretz remained focused on the current threat of the half-dozen creatures getting ever closer to Baker.
He opened fire, striking a few zombies in the side, doing little more than distracting them. “Yeah, that’s it, come get me!” he yelled.
He ran towards the truck, skirting the ghouls and putting himself between the zombies and Baker, choosing his targets carefully. One by one, he aimed and fired, dropping the monsters in quick order. Once they were reduced to a pile of bodies, he whirled around and clambered up into the truck.
“Baker!” he gushed. “You good?”
The Private was dazed, but conscious, blood running down from his forehead, and turned to look at Bretz with confused eyes.
“Come on man, we gotta move,” the Corporal urged, holding out his hand.
Baker blinked a few times and then reached up to wipe the blood from his face, shaking his head as if to clear it. “What the fuck happened?” he asked.
“Chopper boy blew up a car,” Bretz replied.
Baker grunted. “Nothing like a friendly fire IED,” he muttered.
“Get your stuff and come on,” the Corporal said, motioning for him to come.
Baker nodded and collected his gear, including his freshly packed food bag. They hit the ground and started running towards Bretz’ truck, as Short pulled up behind it.
He unrolled his window. “Is Baker okay?” he asked. “That was wild!”
“Yeah, he’s just dinged up,” Bretz replied, suddenly realizing his heart had been in his throat the whole time he’d been fighting the zombies. The relief at Baker being alive washed over him and he straightened his shoulders.
“What do you want us to do, Corporal?” Short asked.
Bretz motioned ahead. “Get up to the bridge and pick a spot to block off,” he instructed. “Two trucks, don’t care which, block it off fully. Just leave an opening so I can get through.”
“We’ll take care of it, Corporal,” Short replied, and rolled out, bringing the CB to his lips to relay the orders to the others.
Bretz walked to the passenger side with Baker and helped him up into the seat. “We’ve been living
