John Holmes - Even Zombie Killers Can Die

“I, I just wanted you to know. In case you didn’t come back.”

“I’ll try my best, beautiful girl.”

“Go get her, Nick.”

The sky was growing light in the east as we started across drawbridge. We had built it earlier in the year to reach the catwalk across the canal doors, which we had cut away halfway across. Ziv led point, and after we had crossed, Brit and Doc cranked the wooden plankway up. As we passed over the canal, Red shot at several zombies that had fallen into the water.

I missed Ahmed. I had been on countless missions with him, and it was hard to believe he was gone. I put it aside, deep down. I would think about it tomorrow, or later today when we buried him. For now, mission first.

We crossed the Hoosick River by wading through a crossing I knew of. Ahead of us the field of corn that I laboriously planted was torn to pieces by 40 millimeter cannon fire. Small green shoots were scattered around and craters were all over the field, mixed in with body parts from the zombies. Further on, in the next field, a clump of bodies lay around a crater from a 105mm howitzer shell. Those would be the merc squad that had been firing on the house.

“Spread out, and shoot any of them that look alive. Watch out for unexploded ordinance.” Ziv turned and walked backward for a second, and the light had gotten strong enough that I could see the grin on his face.

“We will be making a soldier out of you yet, Nick.” He turned just in time to step over one a rock wall bordering the field, and continued patrolling forward toward the tree line. Red laughed as he passed me, since I had stopped to give Ziv’s back the finger.

Hart walked next to me for a bit.

“So, what’s the deal, Nick? Does this crazy psychopath have some kind of personal beef with you guys?”

I nodded. “Yeah, we’ve run into her several times. Know that eye patch Brit wears?”

“Yeah. Did she give that to her?”

“”Yep, back in Seattle. She also killed one of our teammates, Specialist Mya, with some bullshit neurotoxin “cure”. That and Ziv mixed it up with one of her bodyguards too.”

“Bodyguards?”

“Yeah, she goes everywhere with two guys who were Army Special Forces, Delta, back before the plague. I’m pretty sure they’ve gone rouge. Every now and then an occasional asshole slips through selection.”

Ziv had reached the cluster of bodies in the field, and he flipped one over, then started kicking the body as hard as he could. A groan escaped from the prone figure. Red rushed up and took a knee, his back to Ziv, rifle at the ready, scanning for targets.

“I think Ziv found one of them.” As I watched, he knelt down and made a quick cut across the guys’ throat. His boots drummed for a second in the dirt, then fell still. Ziv spit on him.

“He doesn’t screw around, does he?” said Hart.

From behind us came a “Nope. He’s my hero.” Donnie the Butcher laughed that weird laugh of his, and Jim smacked him in the back of the head.

“Shut the F up, you weirdo, and watch your sector. And DON’T touch those zombie corpses.”

“But Jim, they might have jewelry, and like, gold teeth.”

“I will butt stroke you. In the teeth.” Jim carried an M-14 with a wooden stock, and he knew how to use it. Donnie grumbled but kept walking in a straight line. We moved toward the tree line, and a fog seemed to follow us across the field, rising from the river.

“Keep it tight. I’m pretty sure I hit the other bodyguard, but I could be wrong. Might have hit him square on the ceramic. Noise discipline from here on out. Jim you, Donny and Red circle around and try to cut them off. Assume that neither is wounded, but I doubt she can move through the woods like we can. He’s gotta be hurt, any which way I hit him. Even if I hit his strike plate, he’s gotta have some busted ribs. Make SURE you ID your targets, no friendly fire. Say it back.”

Ziv repeated it back to me, and the three of them set out at a fast airborne shuffle around to the Northeast, through the woods. They would parallel the road until they got to the next field, then keep a line of sight down the opposite side of the woods. The anvil to our hammer.

Red, Hart and I moved through the woods, making noise as we went. We would hopefully drive them out towards Ziv and the rest of the guys. I wanted them alive.

We had only gone a few dozen meters into the woods when a shot punctured the morning stillness. All three of us rushed forward, in single man overwatch, rushing from tree to tree, till we broke out of the thin belt of trees.

Ziv and the others were approaching from the North, and in front of us two figures knelt on the ground, half hidden by the scrub growth that had grown up over the last two years. We met the others and together approached them.

“Hart, cuff the Doctor. Be careful, she might stick you with something. Ziv, what do you want to do with the bodyguard?”

“I will do it the old way, the way Ahmed would have wanted.

Morano looked daggers at Hart, and Hart punched her across the face, knocking her down. Red covered her with his rifle, and Hart knelt on Morano’s back, wrenching her arms behind her, not gently, and cuffing her with a zippy tie.

Ziv walked over to the bodyguard. “You and I have unfinished business, my old friend. Does your head still hurt from the punch I gave you? Yes, pig?” He drew his knife and motioned for the other man to come at him.

“Ziv, are you kidding me?” I slipped my finger onto the trigger of my rifle and drew a good site picture, but Ziv waved me off.

“No, Nick, do not interfere. Look at the rifle. This one killed Ahmed. I must do this.”

The man laughed. “Ha, good, I thought I got a piece of that Muslim piece of shit. Sniper, my ass. I can’t believe you had a hard on for a raghead. I thought you Serbs were tough.”

I stepped back and lowered my rifle. I was worried, because in a knife fight, everyone gets cut. Yeah, one person may come out the loser and wind up dying, but the winner, often as not, comes off pretty badly himself.

I nodded to the man. “You know if you win, I’m going to kill you.”

“Yeah, but I’ll go out in style. Killed the famous sniper Ahmed, and now I’m going to slice up Sasha Zivkovic, notorious Serbian Special Forces Officer.” With that, he slipped a bayonet from where it was strapped onto his boot and went into a crouch, left arm extended; right arm held in close, bayonet pointed down. Ziv walked towards him, big knife held at the low ready. Damn, this was going to suck.

The shot from the house, fully a thousand meters away, took off the top of the bodyguards’ head, and he threw his arms up in the air and toppled over to one side, his brains splattering out the huge exit hole. My radio crackled to life, and Brit’s voice carried over the air.

“Whoops! Must have squeezed the trigger in all the excitement. Excuse me, gotta go pee. Brit Out!”

Ziv stuck his knife back in the sheath, then spit on the corpse. “Nick, I am going to have a talk with your she-devil. Gah, impudent American women.”

We walked over to where Doctor Morano sat in the dirt, hands cuffed behind her back. She smiled at me as I approached.

“Hello, Nick. Long time no see.” She started laughing. “Tell Ms. O’Neill I said that. No see! Hahaha!” She peeled off into hysterical laughter. I waited for her to stop.

“You should have stayed in the lab, Doc. Picked the wrong ground to fight on, my ground.”

“So now what? You shoot me?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. Back to the house, for starters.”

Hart grabbed her hands and lifted her, pulling hard, making Morano wince in pain. We frog marched her back to the house, and Doc lowered the bridge, allowing us back across the canal. Brit met us at the far end of the span.