“Almost makes me glad I never had much of a family life,” Hurst added.
His partner sighed. “Thank god for small miracles, right?”
Hurst chuckled darkly. “Come on, let’s finish her off and go tell Dixon.”
Ayers took out granny with a well-placed strike to the head, and then they headed back out of the quiet house to find Dixon. They found him using a flashlight to study his map out front, standing with Private Shaw.
“Best I can tell, we’re about three blocks to the west of the high school,” Dixon was saying.
Shaw nodded as he stared at the map and then glanced down the street to the west, a block where there was a thick line of trees. “It’s gotta be,” he agreed, “because that tree line looks like this one on the map. So if we cut through there, we should be at the docks in another three blocks.”
“Then this is where we’re setting up camp,” Dixon replied, lowering the paper.
Ayers clucked his tongue as they approached. “Man, you picked a hell of a house there, buddy,” he declared.
“Find some new friends?” Dixon asked.
Ayers shook his head and ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Fuck,” he breathed.
“Rabid Granny murdering the family situation in there,” Hurst explained.
Dixon wrinkled his nose. “Not high up on my list of ways to go,” he said. “You get it cleared, though?”
“Yeah it’s cleared,” Ayers replied with a nod. “Although we might want to put a sign on that back bedroom. Nobody else really needs to see that.”
Dixon nodded. “Good work guys,” he commended, “but we still got a lot to do.”
“You got a plan?” Ayers asked.
Dixon motioned to the neighborhood and then pointed to the map. “Yep, and hope we find some ibuprofen in one of these houses,” he said, “because we’re gonna need it.”
“Well doesn’t that sound promising,” Hurst said dryly.
“You know you wouldn’t want it any other way,” Dixon quipped with a small smile. “I mean, if you didn’t get to bitch about a mission, did that mission actually happen?”
The quartet shared a laugh, even Hurst, shaking his head.
“Okay, so this is what we’re doing,” Dixon began, holding up the map. “This road dead ends at that tree line, which is going to be our backstop. We need to get the cars from the driveways and start blocking off this road. Start with one row from house to house, and reinforce if you can.”
Hurst raised a hand. “What if we can’t find the keys?”
“Remember the ibuprofen?” Dixon asked, raising an eyebrow. “Break the window, pop it in neutral, and start pushing.”
“That’s gonna be fun on grass,” Hurst muttered.
“Once that’s done, we need to do a sweep of the houses,” Dixon continued, “making sure if a yard doesn’t have a fence that we plug up the hole somehow. I don’t care if it’s another car or we start having outdoor couches like we’re rednecks in rural Alabama. Anything and everything to slow these things down once we start making noise. Shaw, get the others and start making this happen.”
Shaw nodded. “I’m on it.”
“Ayers, Hurst, got another job for you,” Dixon said as Shaw ran off.
Hurst laced his fingers behind his head. “Let me guess,” he drawled, “more zombie killing?”
“No, just containment,” Dixon replied, shaking his head. “We have an indoor area we can retreat to if things get bad. Now I just need you to make sure the rest of the houses are secure. We’ll let those on the boats deal with them once they get here.”
Ayers grinned. “I like the way you think,” he said.
“Glad to hear it,” Dixon replied, and waved them off. “Now get moving. Lots to get done.”
CHAPTER SIX
Herrera, Jacobs, and Choi emerged from the woods a few blocks south of the church rally point. Their chests heaved from the running and fighting through the multiple wooded areas, still reeling from the loss of Anton.
“Church should be a few blocks to the north,” the Corporal huffed.
As they stepped out onto the street, they looked to the west and spotted a small band of zombies, at least a few dozen, about fifty yards away. They weren’t paying attention to the soldiers, so Herrera casually headed across the street into a neighborhood.
The group took a knee by the house, realizing they’d nearly doomed themselves by not paying attention. The Corporal was silent, motioning for the other two to follow him. He crept around the house, knife at the ready, reaching the backyard.
It was fenced in, as were the neighboring houses. There was movement from a few other yards, but none in their direct path. They hopped the fences and quickly moved through the neighborhood, seeing several clusters of zombies all around. When they reached the house across the street from the church, there was a handful of ghouls hanging out in the front lawn.
“Either of you know how to pick locks?” Herrera whispered.
Jacobs raised his hand. “I’m not the best at it,” he admitted quietly, “but I can get it done.”
“You go straight for the door,” the Corporal instructed. “Choi and I will handle the zombies.”
Jacobs nodded and pulled out his lock-picking tools while the other two readied their blades.
“I’ll take the three on the left,” Herrera murmured, “you get the two on the right.”
Choi cocked his head. “I can take the three if you want,” he whispered.
“Nah,” the Corporal replied, shaking his head. “I need to get out some frustration.”
The Private nodded and waited for his superior to move.
Herrera broke from cover, running as hard as he could towards the trio of zombies on the left side of the yard. He jammed his blade into one creature’s face at full speed, the hilt smacking against the forehead of the ghoul.
He shoved the beast away, preparing to strike at the next two that approached him shoulder-to-shoulder. He darted to the side, grabbing one zombie by the shirt and shoving it into the other. He pumped his legs, driving the clumsy monsters back against the wall of the
