shook badly enough to make changing magazines difficult, but I finally got the one holding the last three rounds for the Glock slid home and the slide released.
A hundred yards north of the van I stopped to catch my breath, remove the earplugs, and listen. Some scattered shots, not close, a few small explosions very far south, not much else. I pulled the empty magazines out of the double holder and slid it onto the full mag in the M-4, and slotted a fresh magazine into the other side. Obviously, reloading fast was a major survival issue.
Heading north was the only option: I had to get home and reorganize. The night may belong to Airborne Rangers, but not in this burg: Charlie said they laid up during the day, so if they came out at night, a single shooter in the open would not stand a chance, vision gear or not. Nor would a vehicle make you safe; one of the bodies around the van had had compound fractures to both wrists from hitting the safety glass; if there had been more than four, I wouldn’t have made it. I was down to three rounds for the Glock and half the load I had started with for the M-4, and at the furthest I had been three quarters of a mile from my starting point as the crow flew, double that as the cripple gimped.
No sign of Charlie, Mick, or Tina on my trek back to the ramp, but I hadn’t expected any. Four saved and fifty-odd infected put down wasn’t a bad piece of work, but it put me no closer to my goal, although it had taught me a lot. The rules of the game were much clearer now. I could see why they were pulling back and declaring an exclusion zone: out in the countryside troops would fare better against the infected; in armored vehicles they would be completely safe-hell, they could just drive over them. But here in an urban environment it was going to be a bitch to operate.
The kid I had shot earlier was still where I left him, and I was surprised to see that the fire ants hadn’t found him yet.
Hiking back, as the stress chemicals died down and my heart steadied, I felt good. It had been a very long time since I had felt anything other than numb and used up. There’s a silver lining in every cloud-the whole world might be turning to chaos, but I was feeling decent for a change.
With my door locked and bolted behind me, I stripped off my vest, gloves, and sweatshirt, checked for blood splatter, and washed up. What a mess-the city was deeper in the shit than I had imagined, and me with it.
I was slapping together a quick sandwich when my phone buzzed. It was my ex-sister-in-law. “Where are you?”
“Still in the city. Have you heard anything?”
“Yes, they are in the projects, holed up, they just called.” She read off the phone number. “She lost her phone and my truck. I hope you plan to get into gear soon, Martin. We’re loading up into busses to be shipped God knows where, so I doubt I will be able to keep tabs on you.”
“I’m working on it.”
My ex picked up on the second ring. “Its me. You OK?”
“Yes, we all are. We’re hiding in an empty apartment with a couple other people. Where are you?” She was calm but tense; she always did well under pressure.
“At home. I headed towards you, but got turned back after half a mile. I’m working on a plan, though. Where exactly are you?” I copied down the building and apartment numbers. “Look, they come out in strength after dark, and they are drawn to noise and light, so black out everything, remember cracks under doors, and unplug or turn off phones. I’m going to come get you, but it will have to be during daylight. It might not be until tomorrow.”
“Martin, maybe you better stay put. There’s hundreds of them here.” Other than dealing with the kids she had always been level-headed and good in a crisis.
“I’ve got a plan, I really think it can work, but I need to get a vehicle first, and I’m not sure I can get it and reach you before dark. Shut down all phones and anything that makes
A hundred yards north of the van I stopped to catch my breath, remove the earplugs, and listen. Some scattered shots, not close, a few small explosions very far south, not much else. I pulled the empty magazines out of the double holder and slid it onto the full mag in the M-4, and slotted a fresh magazine into the other side. Obviously, reloading fast was a major survival issue.
Heading north was the only option: I had to get home and reorganize. The night may belong to Airborne Rangers, but not in this burg: Charlie said they laid up during the day, so if they came out at night, a single shooter in the open would not stand a chance, vision gear or not. Nor would a vehicle make you safe; one of the bodies around the van had had compound fractures to both wrists from hitting the safety glass; if there had been more than four, I wouldn’t have made it. I was down to three rounds for the Glock and half the load I had started with for the M-4, and at the furthest I had been three quarters of a mile from my starting point as the crow flew, double that as the cripple gimped.
No sign of Charlie, Mick, or Tina on my trek back to the ramp, but I hadn’t expected any. Four saved and fifty-odd infected put down wasn’t a bad piece of work, but it put me no closer to my goal, although it had taught me a lot. The rules of the game were much clearer now. I could see why they were pulling back and declaring an exclusion zone: out in the countryside troops would fare better against the infected; in armored vehicles they would be completely safe-hell, they could just drive over them. But here in an urban environment it was going to be a bitch to operate.
The kid I had shot earlier was still where I left him, and I was surprised to see that the fire ants hadn’t found him yet.
Hiking back, as the stress chemicals died down and my heart steadied, I felt good. It had been a very long time since I had felt anything other than numb and used up. There’s a silver lining in every cloud-the whole world might be turning to chaos, but I was feeling decent for a change.
With my door locked and bolted behind me, I stripped off my vest, gloves, and sweatshirt, checked for blood splatter, and washed up. What a mess-the city was deeper in the shit than I had imagined, and me with it.
I was slapping together a quick sandwich when my phone buzzed. It was my ex-sister-in-law. “Where are you?”
“Still in the city. Have you heard anything?”
“Yes, they are in the projects, holed up, they just called.” She read off the phone number. “She lost her phone and my truck. I hope you plan to get into gear soon, Martin. We’re loading up into busses to be shipped God knows where, so I doubt I will be able to keep tabs on you.”
“I’m working on it.”
My ex picked up on the second ring. “Its me. You OK?”
“Yes, we all are. We’re hiding in an empty apartment with a couple other people. Where are you?” She was calm but tense; she always did well under pressure.
“At home. I headed towards you, but got turned back after half a mile. I’m working on a plan, though. Where exactly are you?” I copied down the building and apartment numbers. “Look, they come out in strength after dark, and they are drawn to noise and light, so black out everything, remember cracks under doors, and unplug or turn off phones. I’m going to come get you, but it will have to be during daylight. It might not be until tomorrow.”
“Martin, maybe you better stay put. There’s hundreds of them here.” Other than dealing with the kids she had always been level-headed and good in a crisis.
“I’ve got a plan, I really think it can work, but I need to get a vehicle first, and I’m not sure I can get it and reach you before dark. Shut down all phones and anything that makes
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