Stephen Knight - Left With The Dead

“How will we get there?”

He patted the AA-12 hanging at his side. “By fighting our way through.”

She swallowed. “But what about Jaden?”

Gartrell reached into one of his pockets and pulled out several white plastic quick ties. “We’ll have to tie him to my back, and we’ll have to go like bats out of hell. Not my first choice, but we’re pressed for time.”

“You intend to tie up my son?”

“Like I said, not my first choice. But this is where we are. Unless you have any other ideas? I don’t think we want to take a chance with him running off, or slowing us down. Right?”

“I…I don’t have any other ideas, but…”

Gartrell handed her the box of cotton balls. “Stuff your ears with those, then help me with Jaden. Once he’s on my back, put cotton in his ears too. Things are going to get loud.”

Her expression quiet and resigned, she did as he asked. Gartrell turned away from her and knelt beside Jaden. He gently touched the boy, and Jaden looked at him. Gartrell felt a twinge of guilt; the kid looked miserable, and beneath the heavy veil of his autism, there was no way to make him understand what was happening. He was 100 % Victim to everything that was going on.

“Hang in there, Jaden,” he said softly, brushing the boy’s red hair away from his face. “Be strong for your momma, okay?”

“Momma,” he said, and sobbed some more.

“Momma’s right here,” Jolie said. She knelt beside him, and he reached for her. Jolie took him into her arms and hugged him tightly, her eyes closed. Tears ran past her eyelids, leaving glistening trails on her cheeks. Gartrell realized she was basically hugging her child goodbye. He wanted to say something to her, something encouraging, something motivating…but there just wasn’t anything to be said. Jolie had never been schooled in the art of warfare, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew their chances were pretty piss-poor, no matter what Gartrell might have said.

Gartrell got to his feet and stepped away from them, giving the mother and her child a last few moments of privacy. He slipped the quick ties back inside his pocket, then depressed the push-to-talk button on his radio. “Falcon, this is Terminator Five, over.”

“Terminator, this is Falcon. Go ahead, over.”

“Falcon, Terminator’s danger close and we have to leave the building. Unless you have some great news and can tell me that Chinook is on its way. Over.”

“Ah, Terminator, Falcon. Negative, Chinook is still refueling. The aviators won’t leave without full tanks, they don’t want to leave anything to chance while over zed country, over.”

“Roger that, Falcon. We’re going for the subway station. I’ve got NVGs, so it’ll at least even the odds a bit. You’ve got troops in the T line tunnels? Over.”

“Terminator, Falcon. Roger, we have an entire company moving down the line, clearing it out. Like I told you, one platoon is moving ahead of the rest of the company, over.”

“Falcon, give me that frequency for that platoon, over.”

“Terminator, Falcon. Stand by.” As Gartrell waited, he could smell the smoke from the apartment next door. He walked toward the hole in the wall and knelt before it. He definitely heard something going on over there as well-the zeds were breaking down the door and forcing their way inside. He hoped the cushions emitted enough smoke to keep them dumb and blind for a little while longer. “Terminator, Falcon’s back with you. Frequency is one two seven point eight gigahertz, and Delta Company’s call sign is Destroyer. The detached platoon is Pathfinder One. Over.”

“Roger that, Falcon. I can make that frequency. Have you been in contact with Pathfinder? Over.”

“Negative on that last, Terminator. Waiting for them to report in, and will advise them as soon as they do of your plan, over.”

“Roger that, Falcon.” Gartrell heard something slam against the bedroom door in Jolie’s apartment. He dragged a heavy coffee table over and upended it against the hole in the wall, then shoved a chair against it, dragging it around Jolie and Jaden as they clung to each other. It wasn’t much of a barricade, but it would serve to delay the stenches for a minute or two. “Terminator’s got to pull out now, Falcon. I’m rolling over to the company frequency of one two seven point eight, would be appreciative if you could switch over with me and give me a radio check, over.”

“Roger, Terminator. Switching over now.”

Gartrell switched his radio over to the new frequency and transmitted his identity. Falcon wasn’t there, but he did get Summit Six.

“Good to hear from you again, Terminator. Falcon told me what you’re up to, heading out into the streets and all,” the infantry commander said. “You’ve got big brass ones, Green Beret. Over.”

“Always have, always will, Six. Give Falcon my regards, and he gets some beers from me once this is over. Do me a favor, Six, and make sure your lightfighters get the word we’re coming down. Unit of three, myself, one female, one four-year-old boy with autism. If we get boxed in, we’re going to need every swinging dick we can get. Over.”

“Roger that, Terminator. We’re headed your way. Good luck, first sergeant-we’ll be listening in on this side. Summit Six, out here.”

More noise from the other side of the wall, and Gartrell thought he heard the sound of the bed being pushed against the wall. He darted toward the apartment door and looked through the security peephole. There was some smoke in the hallway, but not enough to substantially reduce visibility. Gartrell pulled his last smoke grenade from his belt and unlocked the door as quietly as he could. With a silent prayer, he slowly pulled the door open and peeked around the sill.

There were zeds, at least a dozen of them, all fighting to get into Jolie’s apartment. All were fixated on that particular task, snarling and moaning as they jostled against each other, oblivious to anything else. Gartrell pulled the pin from the smoker and rolled it down the hallway and closed the door as it went off and commenced spewing gray-white smoke. He didn’t bother to lock the door, just left it closed.

He ran back into the living room and knelt beside Jolie and Jaden. He pulled the quick ties from his pocket once again and touched Jolie on the shoulder.

“It’s time. Let’s get Jaden secured, and then we’re on our way.”

Jolie hugged her boy one final time, then looked at Gartrell. “He’ll probably scream. You know that.”

Gartrell nodded. “We just have to get him restrained as quickly as possible, at least until we get into the subway tunnel. I’ll clear a path through the zeds, you just keep up and make sure they don’t flank me, all right?”

“I’ll try.”

“Well, try real, real hard-your son’s going to be on my back, remember. Now let’s cut some butt, we’re out of time.”

Jaden struggled but didn’t scream as much as Gartrell feared he would. It still took almost two minutes to get the boy secured to Gartrell’s back, and Jolie fought back more tears as she bound her son’s wrists and ankles so tightly they must have hurt. Jaden jerked and pulled, repeating “No, no, no!” again and again, but at last, he was strapped in place against the back of Gartrell’s body armor.

There was a crash from Jolie’s apartment as the stenches flooded into the bedroom. A moment later, they found their way into the closet, and the coffee table rocked back and forth as a zed pushed against it. Gartrell grabbed Jolie’s hand and pulled her with him as he made a beeline for the door, his battered combat boots whispering across expensive Persian rugs.

“You open the door, and I’ll clear whatever’s on the other side. You’ll go past me and open the door to the stairwell across the hall. Wait for me there. Once we’re in, grab Jaden’s shoulder and follow me down the stairs. Did you put cotton in his ears?”