Warren scrapped the lists of needed supplies in his head, focusing solely on fuel. Something wasn’t right here, and the sooner he could get his team in and out the better. He ordered the jeeps to a halt at the first gas station and dispatched Michelle and her crew to find a tanker truck, which they would use to haul the fuel. He and Matt secured the station and went to work on getting the pumps operational; luckily most stations had a backup generator, and it was just a matter of getting it running.
By the time the tanker drove up with Michelle at the wheel and Daniel and Jenkins following her in the jeep, the lights were on at the station. Warren said a quiet prayer of thanks that his information about the town had been correct. There weren’t many places left with easily accessible fuel tankers. Daniel and Matt leapt into action and began filling the massive tanker to its brim.
Michelle approached Warren, and his eyes lingered on her long legs for a moment before he realized he was staring. He cursed himself for his weakness and got to business. “Well?”
“No sign of Scott. We haven’t seen a single rat or walking corpse either. It’s as if this whole town is just empty.”
“Shit.” Warren grimaced. “It’s a trap. The rats must have been watching the convoy.”
Michelle retreated a step, as if afraid he might lose it. “But if it’s a trap, why aren’t we dead yet?”
“It’s not that kind of trap,” Warren explained, springing into movement. “Finish filling her up, then get the hell out of here!” he told Daniel and Matt. “I don’t care where you go, but don’t head to the rally point—no matter what happens. Understood?”
Both men nodded.
“Keep your radios on and stay sharp. We’ll be in touch as soon as we can.” Warren sprinted to his jeep, motioning for Michelle and Jenkins to follow him. “The fucking demons are making a move on the convoy. We’ve got to get back there—now!”
The dead came out of nowhere and the rats followed in their wake. The convoy had been in the process of setting up a new camp, and the handful of trained fighters Warren left behind simply weren’t enough to organize the would-be defenders. Hundreds upon hundreds of the dead surrounded the camp’s perimeter as nearly everyone with a weapon opened fire. Most of the bullets struck rotting chests and arms without real effect; worse, some of them struck legs and kneecaps, creating crawlers who wormed their way beneath the protective line of vehicles into the already terrified mob of civilians. Only a headshot stopped the dead.
One woman, in her attempt to flee, ran in front of the M-60 mounted on the command APC, and Mike, unable to turn the heavy gun away in time, watched her body splatter into a bloody pulp.
Benji sat behind him atop the APC, spraying the dead with an AK-47 cranked up to full auto.
Waves of rats poured beneath the shambling legs of the dead, using the corpses as cover as they raced towards camp. The convoy’s flamethrowers were the only defense against the vermin, but if Mike ordered them to be employed now, with the rats under cover the way they were, the whole convoy would be overwhelmed by a sea of flaming corpses. Somewhere in the battle a man howled as the rats washed over him, pulling him to the ground as their teeth tore into his skin.
Mike watched as Gerald and two of his mechanics struggled to load a group of children into an escape van. The engineer blasted a dozen rats into blood and bone with his shotgun. As he went to pump another round into the chamber, a cold gray hand latched onto his weapon and pulled him face to face with one of the dead.
At that moment, the ground itself seemed to shake, nearly blowing out Mike’s eardrums. He lost his balance and fell from the top of the command car, but Benji grabbed him by the shirt at the last possible second and kept him from falling off completely. He helped Mike climb back up, and they looked around for the source of the quake.
Some idiot had tried to fire the tank’s main gun, but the shell had detonated against a clog of rats that had been searching the barrel for a way in. The combat vehicle was now a flaming mass of wreckage and secondary explosions as its remaining ammo expended itself in the blaze.
Mike could see Benji shouting something at him but couldn’t make out the words over the ringing in his ears. A dead hand reached up from below and took hold of his ankle, trying to pull him from the vehicle. Benji slid to Mike’s side, pressed his 9mm sidearm against the creature’s head and pulled the trigger. Mike jerked free as the thing toppled backwards to the ground.
More explosions rippled through the convoy, lighting up the night like flares. Many of the cars and trucks were engulfed in flames.
Mike heard the bullet before it slapped against his skull. As Benji leaned over him and the darkness swooped down over his vision, Mike realized too late that he hadn’t been able to alert Warren and his team to the attack.
Michelle could see the fires raging where the convoy was supposed to be camped, red and orange flames leaping up into the darkness.
Warren slammed on the brakes and the jeep came to a screeching halt on the road.
“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed.
“We’re too late,” he said; he sounded hollow. He went to slam the gearshift into reverse, but Michelle bolted from her seat. Warren turned to Jenkins. “Why the hell didn’t you stop her?”
Jenkins didn’t answer. He was frozen as if in some kind of shock, his eyes transfixed on the carnage in the distance.
“Shit.” Warren jerked the gearshift into park, then swung his feet onto the asphalt and ran after Michelle.
She was tall and fast, made even faster by the adrenaline pumping through her veins, but Warren managed to grab her from behind and bring her to a halt. “Michelle, it’s over.”
“No!” She tried to shove Warren off of her. “My brother’s there—we have to help them!”
“Michelle—”
She elbowed him hard in the stomach. Any other man might have fallen from the blow, but Warren’s training took over; he spun her around and smashed his fist into her cheek.
Michelle toppled to the road. She got on her knees and looked up at Warren with a burning rage in her eyes. He didn’t have time to argue with her. They had to get out of the area before the rats from the convoy discovered they were there.
He kicked Michelle in the head, and she fell over, eyes rolling up to the whites. Then Warren picked her up and tossed her into the jeep’s passenger seat.
Jenkins was beginning to come around. “What… what are we going to do?” he asked.
“Survive.” Warren gunned the engine, and the wheels spun out as he doubled back the way they had come. “Mike!” he said into his radio. “Mike, if you’re out there, bring anyone you can to the second rally point. Mike!”
The radio remained silent.
“It’s like you said,” Jenkins reminded him. “We were too late. They’re all dead.”
Warren tossed the radio aside and focused on the road in front of him.
“Hey there, sis.” Benji smiled as Michelle opened her eyes. At first she thought she was dreaming, until she tried to sit up and a sharp pain stabbed through her head.
“Whoa.” Benji gently pushed her back down. “You had a pretty rough knock to the head.” He laughed. “I told you that Warren guy was a psycho. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”
Michelle looked around at her surroundings. She was lying on a makeshift pile of bedding stretched out on the dirt. The sun was high in the sky, and she could hear people talking in the distance.
“The convoy was burning.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I… I thought you were dead.”
“I almost was,” Benji replied. “Less than twenty of us made it out of there alive.”
“Mike?” she asked.
“Mike’s fine. A bullet grazed his head, but he’s fine.”
Michelle squeezed Benji’s hand and smiled. He nodded and smiled back.
“Where are we?”
“About seventy miles closer to the base Mike’s been leading us to.” Benji shook his head. “We’re down to one overcrowded van, a pickup truck that’s nearly falling apart, and the tanker and jeeps you guys brought with you
