He pulled Amanda's from his backpack and buried it in the trunk of a tree. She had given it to him after he lost his on the night the kids' mother had died. His arms were too tired at the moment for hand to hand combat, but in another couple of minutes, he should be good to start cracking skulls, splitting them open like ripe melons. He pulled his rifle free, the last of the M4s. He was thankful for the silencer on the end. It would keep him from drawing every Annie within a one-mile radius. Even with the silencer, he would draw every Annie within a hundred feet.
He stood below the rope, waiting patiently for the first of the Annies to appear. He looked up above to see Brown slowly descending. And then the first Annie showed up, broken and frozen. It sent fear through his body. He didn't know how something so damaged could still be moving. For the first time in a while, he didn't feel bad killing one of the Annies. Hell, he was putting it out of its misery.
He took aim, squeezed, and then watched the twisted, broken thing crumple to the ground. At his one o'clock and eleven o'clock, two more appeared. Thank God they move slow.
He dropped them both and then looked upward. Brown was three-quarters of the way down. All the faces were looking over the edge now. They had heard him firing. Brown was flying down the rope now, skipping knots in the rope along the way.
When Brown landed in the snow next to him, shadows were lumbering throughout the trees. Allen couldn't figure out if the boy's crying or his own rifle shots had been responsible for calling them, but right now, it didn't matter.
"You makin' friends down here?" Brown asked, trying to catch his breath.
"Don't I always?" Allen responded as he lined up another kill shot.
"Yeah, well, these ones aren't as nice to look at as the one back at Nike," Brown said.
"Ain't that the fuckin' truth."
"You miss her?"
Allen fired his shot, and one of the dead dropped.
"I never miss."
Brown tapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly, a big smile plastered across his face. He began to unsling his rifle, but Allen said, "Save it. Catch your breath, and then use the hatchet. There are a hell of a lot more of these things down here than there should be. They're all broken up."
Brown nodded and pulled his hatchet from his backpack. "Shoulda sharpened this damn thing last night, but it's been so quiet," he said.
"A dull hatchet will work just as well as a sharp one. Your hands aren't gonna thank you for it, though."
The circle of Annies grew. Allen emptied his magazine and then re-slung his rifle. He pulled Amanda's hatchet from the tree trunk and said, "You ready to chop some wood?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," Brown said.
The Annies closed around them, and they swung their hatchets and pushed the Annies to the ground. They stood with their backs against the cliff, as above, another soldier descended the rope.
****
Whiteside heard the muffled shots of Allen's rifle stop. It was a shame. He loved that sound. He wished he was a good enough shot to be the one to carry the M4, but Allen was better than him. Not by much, but enough to merit letting Allen keep the rifle for when it counted.
He went as fast as he could down the rope. He heard their grunts down below, and he knew that he was in for a scrape. He didn't mind. He loved killing them damn dead things.
He went fast, hand under hand, lowering himself so fast that the skin of his hand burned from the friction. When he reached the bottom, he had no time to waste. He pulled his hatchet free and waded into the dead, screaming a savage battle cry.
Satisfaction flooded his body as the first Annie dropped under his assault, then he spun and attacked the next. Shoot. And I thought today was going to be boring.
****
Rudy had to admit. Tejada was right. His upper body was not strong enough to support his own mass and that of the little girl. He felt like he was failing the kids. Maybe he wasn't fit to be taking care of the two kids, after all. At Tejada's insistence, he let Masterson carry Hope on his back. Gregg would come down with D.J. They were both physically fitter than he was.
Amanda touched him lightly on the arm. "They're going to be ok," she said.
But he knew she was just saying that. He could hear the sounds of battle below, though he couldn't see exactly what was going on due to the obstruction of the treetops. Panic welled in him, and he was more afraid than he had ever been, even since the time he had been left on the Burnside Bridge with a horde of the dead bearing down on him. This was somehow worse than that. Those kids… they had been through so much, and he knew he was projecting his own youth onto them, his own feelings of needing to be cared for, but it didn't change how he felt. His heart lurched in his chest, as Masterson disappeared over the side of the cliff, Hope strapped to his back.
That only left him, Tejada, Amanda, Gregg, and D.J. up top. Everyone else was down below, fighting to keep the bottom of the rope clear.
"You ready to go for a ride, little man?" Gregg asked D.J.
D.J. nodded, his eyes still red from crying.
"Now when we go over, don't look down. Just look all around and see what you can see. I want a full
