Zion’s gaze darkened. “Why the hell didn’t you do anything?”
“We tried, but this was a group of trainees on their first highway detail,” he explained, shaking his head. “They were in way over their heads, so I sent the one competent person I had as a runner to go around them in the woods to give the complex time to prepare. And I did the only thing I could, which was stand here and hoped to god you came back before it was too late.”
Zion looked to his passengers. “Mateo, this ain’t your fight, so don’t feel obligated to tag along.”
“You stuck your neck out for my family,” Mateo replied firmly. “I’m happy to repay the favor.”
Zion nodded in appreciation and put the truck in park. “Hang tight, I’ll be right back,” he said, and got out. “You, come with me,” he said to the guard.
He led the man to the transport vehicle a few cars back. The door opened and Wendy appeared on the steps.
“What is it?” she asked.
Zion motioned to the guard. “I need you to take this man with you and head out towards White Salmon,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Her brow furrowed.
“You’re gonna backtrack a couple miles to the interstate eighty-four connection and head east,” Zion continued. “It’s about sixty miles. When you get there, just ask for Fingers, he’ll introduce you to the right people.”
Wendy crossed her arms. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Gotta go save our home,” Zion replied.
She nodded as the doors shut. As Zion walked back to the truck, the vehicles began to turn around. He saw Monique staring at him from the back window of one of the buses, eyes wide. He gave her a thumbs-up, letting her know that it was going to be okay.
He hopped back into the truck and popped it into gear, speeding off the exit towards the complex. The cab was silent as they drove, everyone focused on the shitshow they were about to walk into. As they reached the half-mile point, there were zombie stragglers on the road.
Zion drifted the truck over just enough to clip them with the edge of the bumper, which at the very least crippled them. After hitting five or six, there was a large gap between them and the tail end of the horde.
He slammed on the brakes as they came around the bend, a few hundred yards from the complex. They stared in shock at the four to five hundred creatures pressed up against the building, trying to get in.
“With that weight,” Calvin said hoarsely, “that garage door isn’t going to hold for long.”
Gunshots rang out in the distance, and they looked up to see a few people hanging out of third and fourth story windows, aiming and firing down.
“What can we do?” Mateo asked helplessly.
Zion took a deep breath, eyes like steel. “I want you to go back and clear those things we hit on the way up,” he instructed. “Calvin, I want you to start firing, draw as many of them towards you as possible and get them down the road as far as you can.”
“Man, I only got about fifteen shots left,” the sniper replied.
Zion shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, just use them to draw them to you,” he said. “We gotta relieve pressure on that gate.”
“Well, once you do, then come save my ass, will ya?” Calvin asked with a smirk, though it was strained.
“Don’t I always?” Zion shot back easily.
Mateo slid over as Calvin unbuckled the seat belt. “What are you going to do?”
Zion cracked his knuckles. “I’m gonna get in there and help ‘em.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
As Mateo walked back to clear the way, Calvin got up in the back of the truck for an elevated view. He looked over at Zion, who had darted into the woods for cover before beginning to fire.
He honed in on his first target, squeezing the trigger and blowing its head wide open. He quickly bolted in another round and fired quickly, not really taking the time to aim properly since the goal was noise, not precision. Rapid fire was a great way to draw attention.
“Yeah that’s right, come and get me!” Calvin declared loudly. The noise peeled off several zombies, a dozen or so. He fired a few more times, catching a couple of creatures in the face and neck.
By the time he had to reload, there were eighty or so corpses shambling his way, easily one fifth of the crowd. The leading edge of the group was about twenty yards away from the front of the truck. As he began to hop down, he fired one more shot, in hopes that it will pull a few more.
“That’s the best we’re gonna get,” he muttered, and jogged down the road, putting some distance between them, while remaining in view. As he did so, Mateo walked back from his mission.
“Route is clear,” he said, and then nodded in the direction of the zombie horde. “Good turnout.”
Calvin shook his head. “Not as good as it could have been, though,” he admitted. “Hopefully it’s enough.”
The duo began to walk down the road, whistling and shouting and leading the mass of rotted flesh along behind them.
Meanwhile, Zion looked on from the woods, deep in cover and staying silent, pleased with how many they’d been able to draw away from the complex. He stood there, weaponless, looking at the horde in front, pressing on the parking garage door.
Once the horde had passed, Zion went on the move, rushing through the woods towards the building while moving away from the horde. As he got close, a straggler lunged out from behind a tree. He grabbed it by the neck without breaking stride, slamming it into another trunk, dropping it.
Zion ran alongside the wall towards the back, the noise attracting a few creatures from the horde. He glanced over his shoulder as he went, muttering curses to
