Read Online Even Zombie Killers Get The Blues (Zombie Killer Blues) by John Holmes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Holmes
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what any good subordinate does when confronted with
impossible orders from above with no relevance to the situation on the ground:
I ignored them.
We waited until daylight, then I called into Empire Six.
“Empire Six, this is Lost Boys, Over.”
I told him we had captured a prisoner, and before he expired, he told us that
yes, they were cannibals, and yes, they were in the prison, and no, he didn’t
know how many of them they were.
“What do you mean he didn’t know how
many of them there were?”
“Well, he died.”
“Did you get to question him first?”
“For a bit. He pretty much confirmed what we knew
already.” Damn, this jerk was making it hard to lie to him.
“ How did you get the information out of him?”
No way was I going to let that pinhead fulfill his dark fantasies by giving him
torture tales.
“Better you don’t know, if you get my meaning, over.”
“Roger that, Empire Six, out.”
God, he was an insufferable prick. Another FRAGO
came in from the S-3. If possible, they wanted us to secure the county jail. I
calculated up the odds. We had only seen guards in two of the towers there and
at the gate to the jail. That we could do. H Hour was at 0300. We moved out to
a better observation position so we could keep an eye on the jail and the
prison. It wouldn’t do for whoever was coming for the prison to get a surprise
if we could avoid it.
“Jonesy, quit that shit. Just kill it.” We had settled down on the edge of the
tree line. A Zombie with no legs was pulling its way toward us through the
forest. Its lower jaw was missing, probably a survivor of the Z wave that had
broken over the jail. Jonesy was baiting it, letting it get close then low
crawling to a different position.
“I’m just doing PT with my battle buddy here, Nick.” I could see his grin in
the moonlight.
“Just kill it already. Have a little bit of compassion. That was someone’s mom
once.”
“OK. You just one big bad teddy bear, Nick.” With that he pulled his .22 pistol
and popped two rounds into its head. The Z sank to the ground, the weird red
light in its eyes slowly fading.
At 0259, H-1, Ahmed lined his rifle up on the guard in the tower at the jail. I
lay next to him, watching through my NVGs and counting down quietly. 3, 2, 1.
At 0, all hell broke loose. Ahmed’s first shot dropped the guard in the tower.
At the same instant, a bolt of light shot into the truck parked in front of the
prison. It exploded with a dull CRUMP, lifting off its axels and landing a dozen
feet away, burning brightly. A Hellfire missile fired from an Apache miles way
had impacted at exactly 0300. From behind another hill, another Apache rose up
from where it had been waiting and started pumping 30mm chain gun rounds into
each of the towers in turn.
The Hellfire explosion had washed out my night vision goggles for a second. Ahmed’s
also, spoiling his shot at the second guard. I flipped off my NVGs but the jail
itself was still in darkness. I flipped them back down again and saw the other
guard sprinting for the building where the slaves were kept. Ahmed’s second
shot splintered the doorway next to him as he dove in. Three figures rushed out
from the guard shack at the gate to stare at the fireworks. The five of us rose.
In a steady walk, we advanced across the field towards the jail, shooting as we
went. All three fell before we were halfway there. As the last one went down,
we heard automatic gunfire and screams erupt from the slave barracks, and the
inside was lit up with a strobe light of gunfire.
We broke into a run, even as three CH-47s from the NY Army National Guard
thundered overhead. Two stopped over the prison courtyard and started spilling
troops from the back, fast roping into the courtyard. The third touched tail on
front of the prison gate and a heavily armed squad ran out the back. As soon as
the last man was clear they powered up and lifted to the back side of the
prison, probably droping off another
impossible orders from above with no relevance to the situation on the ground:
I ignored them.
We waited until daylight, then I called into Empire Six.
“Empire Six, this is Lost Boys, Over.”
I told him we had captured a prisoner, and before he expired, he told us that
yes, they were cannibals, and yes, they were in the prison, and no, he didn’t
know how many of them they were.
“What do you mean he didn’t know how
many of them there were?”
“Well, he died.”
“Did you get to question him first?”
“For a bit. He pretty much confirmed what we knew
already.” Damn, this jerk was making it hard to lie to him.
“ How did you get the information out of him?”
No way was I going to let that pinhead fulfill his dark fantasies by giving him
torture tales.
“Better you don’t know, if you get my meaning, over.”
“Roger that, Empire Six, out.”
God, he was an insufferable prick. Another FRAGO
came in from the S-3. If possible, they wanted us to secure the county jail. I
calculated up the odds. We had only seen guards in two of the towers there and
at the gate to the jail. That we could do. H Hour was at 0300. We moved out to
a better observation position so we could keep an eye on the jail and the
prison. It wouldn’t do for whoever was coming for the prison to get a surprise
if we could avoid it.
“Jonesy, quit that shit. Just kill it.” We had settled down on the edge of the
tree line. A Zombie with no legs was pulling its way toward us through the
forest. Its lower jaw was missing, probably a survivor of the Z wave that had
broken over the jail. Jonesy was baiting it, letting it get close then low
crawling to a different position.
“I’m just doing PT with my battle buddy here, Nick.” I could see his grin in
the moonlight.
“Just kill it already. Have a little bit of compassion. That was someone’s mom
once.”
“OK. You just one big bad teddy bear, Nick.” With that he pulled his .22 pistol
and popped two rounds into its head. The Z sank to the ground, the weird red
light in its eyes slowly fading.
At 0259, H-1, Ahmed lined his rifle up on the guard in the tower at the jail. I
lay next to him, watching through my NVGs and counting down quietly. 3, 2, 1.
At 0, all hell broke loose. Ahmed’s first shot dropped the guard in the tower.
At the same instant, a bolt of light shot into the truck parked in front of the
prison. It exploded with a dull CRUMP, lifting off its axels and landing a dozen
feet away, burning brightly. A Hellfire missile fired from an Apache miles way
had impacted at exactly 0300. From behind another hill, another Apache rose up
from where it had been waiting and started pumping 30mm chain gun rounds into
each of the towers in turn.
The Hellfire explosion had washed out my night vision goggles for a second. Ahmed’s
also, spoiling his shot at the second guard. I flipped off my NVGs but the jail
itself was still in darkness. I flipped them back down again and saw the other
guard sprinting for the building where the slaves were kept. Ahmed’s second
shot splintered the doorway next to him as he dove in. Three figures rushed out
from the guard shack at the gate to stare at the fireworks. The five of us rose.
In a steady walk, we advanced across the field towards the jail, shooting as we
went. All three fell before we were halfway there. As the last one went down,
we heard automatic gunfire and screams erupt from the slave barracks, and the
inside was lit up with a strobe light of gunfire.
We broke into a run, even as three CH-47s from the NY Army National Guard
thundered overhead. Two stopped over the prison courtyard and started spilling
troops from the back, fast roping into the courtyard. The third touched tail on
front of the prison gate and a heavily armed squad ran out the back. As soon as
the last man was clear they powered up and lifted to the back side of the
prison, probably droping off another
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