Before Copeland could reply, several gunshots fired from the southern part of the bridge.
“Let’s move,” he said, and the trio quickly crawled under the truck, darting towards Schmitt.
At the south end, five soldiers stood, taking aim and firing sporadically into the neighborhood where dozens of zombies poured out.
“Cease fire, cease fire!” Copeland barked.
The men complied, lowering their weapons.
“Best we can tell, Sarge, one of those car alarms stopped going off, so they got drawn to us,” Schmitt explained, motioning to the threat that was still fifty yards away.
Copeland pulled out his walkie talkie and clicked to a different channel. “Dawson.”
“What can I do for you, Sarge?” the Corporal replied.
The Sergeant kept an eye on the emerging zombies. “Need more decoys up here by the surface street bridge,” he instructed. “Double it up, this time.”
“Next two set of drivers that get back will head that way,” Dawson promised.
Copeland nodded. “How many decoys have you been able to deploy so far?” he asked.
“Got thirty or so, spread out around the city, about six or eight blocks apart,” Dawson replied. “We’re filling in some gaps now to thin them out even more.”
“Good,” Copeland said. “Keep doing what you’re doing, but be ready to move en masse. We might have a situation brewing on the interstate.”
“Ten four,” the Corporal replied firmly. “We’ll be ready.”
Copeland put the walkie-talkie away and readied his assault rifle. “Let’s clear ‘em out,” he declared, and led the charge.
Everyone spread out in a firing line and unloaded single shots into the horde. The bullets found their targets, dropping the corpses quickly and efficiently. As they stood to admire their handiwork, the walkie-talkie buzzed against the Sergeant.
“Copeland,” he greeted.
“Hey Sarge, Kowalski,” the sniper said. “You might have an issue.”
Copeland’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on your truck,” Kowalski replied, “and I’ve already seen a dozen or so of those things crawl under. They’re on the bridge now and wandering towards you.”
The Sergeant sighed. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said.
“You want me to clear them out?” the sniper asked.
Copeland tilted his head back and forth. “If you’re so inclined,” he replied. “We have to take them all out eventually.”
“On it,” Kowalski said.
Copeland replaced his walkie-talkie and looked around at the houses on the other side of the bridge. Spread out over a block, he spotted several sedans, and then checked the crawl space under the truck. He turned to his team.
“You two,” he barked, pointing at the two soldiers nearest him, “start clearing a path through these corpses. Rest of you, start pushing those cars over here, we gotta plug this hole,” he declared. “Isn’t going to be perfect, but when we start clearing out this part of town, it should limit surprises. Let’s move.”
CHAPTER TEN
Ten minutes later, Copeland watched as the final car wedged underneath the truck. It wasn’t a perfect solution, as there were still a few small gaps, but it was extremely unlikely that even a handful of corpses would be able to squeeze through, no matter how much noise the soldiers made. If anything, they’d probably get stuck and add to the barricade.
Johnson and Schmitt stood in the middle of the road running parallel to the river, scanning for zombies. Johnson caught one with his night vision scope and fired, dropping it.
“Damn, I didn’t even see that one,” Schmitt muttered.
Johnson shrugged. “Yeah, when they get into the shadows like that, they can be tough to see.”
Copeland’s walkie-talkie vibrated, and he lifted it to his lips. “Copeland.”
“Sarge, Sarge!” Kowalski cried in a panicked voice. “We got problems!”
The Sergeant’s brow furrowed. “Settle down, soldier,” he said as calmly as he could. “What is it?”
“Wade’s out of ammo!” the sniper gushed. “And a lot of those things are starting to move towards the bridge!”
Copeland grunted in displeasure. “You make that noise,” he instructed. “I don’t care what you do, just do it quick.” He put the radio away and turned to his team. “Our bridge boys are in trouble, so we’re gonna double time it! If it isn’t in your way, you ignore it.” He waved at them. “Now let’s go!”
He turned and took off at a brisk pace, all seven soldiers keeping up with him. They moved swiftly along the moonlit road, the light reflecting off of the water. It was a mile run to the bridge, and as they got closer, they heard a worrisome sound in the distance.
Gunfire. And lots of it.
If they’re firing, then it’s bad out there, Copeland thought bitterly, and pushed harder, picking up more speed and pulling away from the other troops. Despite giving it their all, they just couldn’t keep up with the beastly Sergeant.
The group finally reached the frontage road, stopping before crossing it. As the rest of the men showed up, they found Copeland staring down at the interstate away from the bridge.
“What…” Johnson huffed, “what is it, Sarge?”
His superior just continued to stare, letting out another displeased grunt. Johnson leaned over to see a few hundred zombies coming up the interstate towards the bridge.
Raymond clustered in behind them, and his eyes widened. “Not sure we have the ammo for that,” he warned.
“We don’t,” Copeland confirmed, “but we need to slow them down.” He pointed to a quartet of his team members. “You four, on the interstate. Start picking them off, thin them out as much as you can. Use every shot if you have to.”
They didn’t even bother responding, simply running off as the gunshots intensified on the bridge.
“Anybody here know how to hot-wire a car?” Copeland asked.
Raymond
