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Authors: John Holmes, Ryan Szimanski
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MP’s. We held out. Waited for you. Heard you coming on the radio. The helicopters” he coughed “drew the zombies to this end of the valley. Caught us.” His eyes closed, but he reached up and grabbed me by the neck.
“We … waited…for you… our kids … told them we … were rescued. You killed … them. Killed us.” With his last strength, he spit in my face. He let me go and fell back onto the concrete. Doc reached over and felt for a pulse.
“He’s gone.”
I sighed and stood up. Someone had a lot to pay for. This didn’t have to happen. I reached over and tore off the bloody velcro American Flag off his uniform and slipped it into my pocket.
“OK, lets’ go in, look for survivors.” We snaked our ways through the debris, weapons at the ready, moving up a stairwell. The first few floors were empty, the damage getting worse as we moved upwards. The stairwell stopped abruptly just below the last floor, the steps hammered away. A bloody aluminum ladder, the one Guido had used, lay toppled over. We set it upright and climbed.
I was first up the ladder, and I stopped the others. The whole place stank of blood and cordite, a smell I knew all too well. Scattered around the floor were more than two dozen bodies, some still clad in the remains of uniforms. Others were in civilian clothes. Many of the bodies we far too small.
“Doc, Ahmed, come up. Brit, stay down there with J.”
“Hell no, I’m coming up” she said, and started climbing the ladder.
“Suit yourself.”
She climbed up the ladder, looked around, and threw up. I walked over to the closest small body, but the kid, a young boy, showed no signs of life. I turned to Doc, after he had finished checking the other bodies.
“Any?”
“No. Those BB rounds, well, they work. All too well.” The corpses all had dozens of small holes in them, and the floors were slick with blood.
“OK then. Pile them in the center, and find something flammable. There has to be some gas around here. Pop a Willie Pete on them and let’s go. I’m not leaving them to be eaten by crows.”
Brit stood over one small body, a baby. Tears were streaming down her face. “How could they do this, Nick? You told them. YOU TOLD THEM! We’re supposed to be the good guys, Nick! ”
“It’s war, Brit. We are the good guys. Just, some of us aren’t as good others.” I thought back to the kid I had executed a few days before. Yeah, some of aren’t that good. We just do what has to be done.
Three hours later, we headed west towards Fire Base Tillery. Behind us the funeral pyre of Brits’ innocence burned brightly.
Chapter 19
Fire Base Tillery sat high on a bluff overlooking a narrow spot in the Mohawk Valley. Below stood the ruins of Little Falls. The cliffs on either side formed a natural choke point, blocking off easy access to the flatlands to the west.
In the few days that they had been there, bulldozers had thrown up a high dirt berm, and soldiers had been even busier setting up and filling HESCO barriers, steel and canvas frames that were filled with dirt to form an unscallable wall. Machine guns and sniper positions sat every twenty feet or so, and brown and green camouflage netting hung over the sides, blocking anyone from getting a clear shot at the soldiers manning the guard posts. Covering each quarter of the compass, the muzzles of 155mm cannon poked out over the dirt berm, ready to fire quick fused or even canister rounds if a horde came too close. Fat chance of that here, out in the middle of nowhere.
We straggled wearily along the cracked asphalt of a country road that the base had squatted on. It had warmed considerably in the two days we had taken to march here, and we were covered in mud from the melting snow. Brit limped along, blood coming from where her new boots had worn through a blister. Doc had put duct tape on it, but she still left a red foot print in the snow with each step. I had given her a tough lecture after she
“We … waited…for you… our kids … told them we … were rescued. You killed … them. Killed us.” With his last strength, he spit in my face. He let me go and fell back onto the concrete. Doc reached over and felt for a pulse.
“He’s gone.”
I sighed and stood up. Someone had a lot to pay for. This didn’t have to happen. I reached over and tore off the bloody velcro American Flag off his uniform and slipped it into my pocket.
“OK, lets’ go in, look for survivors.” We snaked our ways through the debris, weapons at the ready, moving up a stairwell. The first few floors were empty, the damage getting worse as we moved upwards. The stairwell stopped abruptly just below the last floor, the steps hammered away. A bloody aluminum ladder, the one Guido had used, lay toppled over. We set it upright and climbed.
I was first up the ladder, and I stopped the others. The whole place stank of blood and cordite, a smell I knew all too well. Scattered around the floor were more than two dozen bodies, some still clad in the remains of uniforms. Others were in civilian clothes. Many of the bodies we far too small.
“Doc, Ahmed, come up. Brit, stay down there with J.”
“Hell no, I’m coming up” she said, and started climbing the ladder.
“Suit yourself.”
She climbed up the ladder, looked around, and threw up. I walked over to the closest small body, but the kid, a young boy, showed no signs of life. I turned to Doc, after he had finished checking the other bodies.
“Any?”
“No. Those BB rounds, well, they work. All too well.” The corpses all had dozens of small holes in them, and the floors were slick with blood.
“OK then. Pile them in the center, and find something flammable. There has to be some gas around here. Pop a Willie Pete on them and let’s go. I’m not leaving them to be eaten by crows.”
Brit stood over one small body, a baby. Tears were streaming down her face. “How could they do this, Nick? You told them. YOU TOLD THEM! We’re supposed to be the good guys, Nick! ”
“It’s war, Brit. We are the good guys. Just, some of us aren’t as good others.” I thought back to the kid I had executed a few days before. Yeah, some of aren’t that good. We just do what has to be done.
Three hours later, we headed west towards Fire Base Tillery. Behind us the funeral pyre of Brits’ innocence burned brightly.
Chapter 19
Fire Base Tillery sat high on a bluff overlooking a narrow spot in the Mohawk Valley. Below stood the ruins of Little Falls. The cliffs on either side formed a natural choke point, blocking off easy access to the flatlands to the west.
In the few days that they had been there, bulldozers had thrown up a high dirt berm, and soldiers had been even busier setting up and filling HESCO barriers, steel and canvas frames that were filled with dirt to form an unscallable wall. Machine guns and sniper positions sat every twenty feet or so, and brown and green camouflage netting hung over the sides, blocking anyone from getting a clear shot at the soldiers manning the guard posts. Covering each quarter of the compass, the muzzles of 155mm cannon poked out over the dirt berm, ready to fire quick fused or even canister rounds if a horde came too close. Fat chance of that here, out in the middle of nowhere.
We straggled wearily along the cracked asphalt of a country road that the base had squatted on. It had warmed considerably in the two days we had taken to march here, and we were covered in mud from the melting snow. Brit limped along, blood coming from where her new boots had worn through a blister. Doc had put duct tape on it, but she still left a red foot print in the snow with each step. I had given her a tough lecture after she
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