John Holmes - Even Zombie Killers Get the Blues

“Hey Nick, you doing OK?”

“Yeah, Horatio. Took a round to the Kevlar, I’m a bit jiggly right now. Don’t move around so much. How’s your boys?”

“Two dead, seven injured, one critical. The helo going down was tough but they managed to get out of the bird after it hit, before it went up. I’m going to have that jackass Colonel crawling up my ass about losing a helo. And he’s going to be all over your shit for not telling him there was a heavy automatic weapon in there.”

“Screw him. What were we supposed to do, crawl inside the jail? Sorry about your guys.” I was pretty sure I would know them but I would wait til later to find out their names. I didn’t need any more grief right now.

“Such is war, Nick, such is war. I know you couldn’t have gotten in there, and there should have been a predator over flight. Not that we can get them anymore. We’ve got one of the 47s sitting down outside to take off the refugees here once we do a full count and assess their medical condition. Here, let me give you a hand up.” He pulled me to my feet, where I stood a bit shakily for a second. Then I took a deep breath and walked out into the night air, into a scene from hell.

A good quarter mile to the south of me was the burning wreckage of the CH-47. No one came close because onboard ammunition was starting to cook off, sending rounds through the air. To my left, the jail was burning in several places, including the shattered towers. The devastated truck at the front entrance had burned itself out except for the tires, but a cloud of acrid smoke drifted off into the night. As I watched, one of the CH-47s lifted from the courtyard and headed Southwest, back towards Albany, escorted by one of the Apaches. There went most of Charlie Company, along with their wounded. I hoped the wounded would make it.

Captain Davis came up next to me and watched it go, and in a minute, Doc was standing next to us, and gave us an update.

“We have fourteen dead, another twelve wounded, forty-two unwounded. Mostly women and children. Could have been worse, Nick.”

I knew he meant that it could have been worse if we hadn’t rushed the barracks, but he knew it would eat at me that we hadn’t saved them all.

“OK, Horatio, can your platoon organize the Evac? My team has to be long gone from here before the Zombies come crawling toward the sound of the gunfire.”

“I’ll do you one better, Nick. It’s going to take a few minutes to get organized. Have the bird give you a lift a couple miles north, say to a mountaintop just outside Ft. Ann, where you can rest up for a while.”

“Sounds good, Brother.” I followed Doc, Jonesy, Jacob and Ahmed into the back of the chopper while Cpt. David conferred with the pilot. Once I sat down on the canvas seat, I closed my eyes and immediately fell asleep.

We never got off the ground. The rotors spun up, then spun down. I woke up with a start, sensing the change in pitch. The crew chief lowered the tail deck and motioned for everyone to get out, so I unsnapped my harness, grabbed my ruck, and shuffled down the ramp.

Outside, a Blackhawk had just touched down. After the rotors stopped spinning, two figures climbed down. Here came LTC Jackass with his faithful sidekick Command Sergeant Major Peters, aka Poncho. They strode over with the Colonel holding his Cavalry Stetson firmly on his head, as if the motionless helo would blow it away. I’m surprised he didn’t have his spurs jingle- jangling. CSM Peters was carrying an M-14 with more scopes, flashlights and targeting devices than an M-1 tank. He aimed it this way and that, starting at every sound coming out of the pre-dawn darkness. Twice he flagged me with his weapon, swinging it in a wide arc that pretty much covered my whole team. We cringed backwards, as we could see in the light of the burning chopper that his finger was on the trigger.

Colonel Jackass stepped up to me and tried to stare me down. I put my finger alongside my nose and blew snot out onto the ground in front of him. He leaned forward and got two inches from my face, the firelight making him look like some kind of red cherry tomato.

“Sergeant Major, arrest this man!” Peters started to sling his weapon and reach for me. I stepped back and got ready to deliver a full force punch to the Colonel’s face. Or his throat. I couldn’t decide which. My arm was stopped by Doc, who had come up behind me.

“Arrest me? For what?”

“It was your negligence that got that helo shot down tonight. I ordered you to get information on the prison.”

“What were we supposed to do, crawl over the walls? Keep trying to take prisoners until we were dead?”

“You were too busy worry about your little whore to do the job properly, Agostine!”

“You’re a piece of shit!” I lunged for him but Doc and Jacob grabbed both my arms and wrestled me back. Then Peters finally got around to unslinging his weapon. He had it halfway up before Ahmed had his pistol pointed at his face from a few feet away. Jonesy had his pistol pointed at the Colonel, in that stupid sideways gangbanger pose I had been trying to break him of.

Captain David stepped in between us all, and put his hands up, motioning for everyone to lower their weapons. CSM Peters didn’t lower his rifle until Ahmed had put his pistol back into its holster. The Sergeant Major was sweating like the pig he was. “Calm down, Gentlemen. We’re all on the same side! Right, Nick? I’m sure the Colonel, once he gets eyes on the ground situation, will understand the risk assessment on that kind of recon. Isn’t that right, Sir?” said Captain David, interposing himself between us and the Colonel.

Jackass stared at Jonesy, who had a big, evil grin on his face. Then he snapped out of it and started backing off to his helo. “Yes, sure Captain. I’ll just do a flyby of the prison. Good job here. Get loaded up and get your men out of here.”

“Piece of shit pissed his pants when I drew on him. Dumbass cracker.” Jonesy laughed loud and hard.

Captain David ordered his guys to give us up some ammunition for our rifles and some more clean water. “Nick, I suggest you and your team start humping it out of here before he finds his courage again and orders his crew chief to light you up with some machine gun fire for insubordination.” Then the guys and the former slaves climbed into the CH-47 and rose into the sky, silhouetted against the faint dawn.

We jogged down the road for three miles, a slow steady pace, even though we were all exhausted. I spotted a two-story building on the side of the road. Around it was a ring of skeletons where a zombie wave had fought to get into the building. We slow-walked through the ground floor, clearing each room. When we got to the stairs, we found them hacked and shattered, which was a pretty standard way of keeping zombies out during the plague time. There were more skeletons clustered around the bottom. Most had neat round holes in their skulls.

“Nice shooting,” muttered Ahmed, picking up a skull and examining it. Long blonde hair still clung to it in patches. He put it back down gently.

Beside the stairs was a battered aluminum extension ladder. It looked like it had fallen over instead of being placed down. Way I figured it, someone was looting, used the ladder to get to the second floor, and it fell. The noise from the ladder falling must have been like a dinner gong for the local Z population.

“Shall we?” said Doc, with a motion to the ruined stairway, and he set the ladder back up. We climbed up while Jonesy and Jacob stood guard below.