DUSK 2

By JD THOMPSON

Chapter 37


            Catherine wasn’t sure if she stumbled into Lou or his soldier until she heard Lou’s voice a few steps away.

            “I just can’t get rid of you.”

            Light from the stairwell seeped into the crawlspace through opening, but it didn’t reach very far.  Though the shadows hid Lou’s face, Catherine assumed his expression held sheer disapproval.

            “Just stay behind us and point that gun at the ground.  I don’t want you pulling any bullets out of me that you put in.  Got it?”

            “Got it.”

            Just a week ago, Catherine wouldn’t have followed someone into a situation like this.  She’d have left the soldier business up to Frank, Sam, Scott, or even her husband but times had changed.  She had to see justice served not only for her husband, but everyone killed in the attack.  They’d appointed her as their leader and Catherine did not believe that she could serve them if she couldn’t accomplish this one task.  As their leader, she had to be the one to see Olmstead captured or killed.

            Hearing moans outside of the building, they hurried to the other side of the space where Lou worked on a combination lock on a metal door.

            “They’re right outside now.”

            Lou pulled the door opened and motioned for the other soldier and Catherine to walk through.  He followed them, closing the door behind them.  Catherine doubted that many of the undead would get into the crawl space, and the door looked sturdy.  She wondered how they would get back to the surface.

            She followed the other two men down a stair case, which led into a dimly lit basement.  Though each man was equipped with a flash light, they didn’t dare use them in case they weren’t alone.  Instead they stalked slowly through the darkness, allowing their eyes to adjust.

            After a search of the room left them confident there were no attackers in hiding, they opened an unlocked metal door and moved into a service tunnel.

*

            Sergeant Fredrickson ordered the jeeps to maneuver around the edge of the mob, hoping to round them back to the gap in the wall.  He wasn’t optimistic, but the machine guns were nearly dry and he wondered if they had enough ammunition in their rifles.  As they maneuvered by some of the populated buildings, several snipers fired on the undead.  Some of the less seasoned gunmen fired too close to the jeeps.  Others were too eager, wasting ammunition, not taking the time to line up their shots.  Even so, he’d take all the help he could get.

            Behind a line of one story storage units, the Sergeant spotted four more jeeps approaching.  Mindful of the gunfire, they approached from outside of the Sergeant’s unit’s line of fire.  When they got closer, he could see bullet holes in some of the vehicles.  One of them was missing a windshield.  The numbers of troops inside were uneven.  Usually for an attack maneuver, there were three or four men per jeep.  He spotted one jeep with two men, two with three troops, and one with five.  They looked like they’d gotten away from a skirmish pretty fast.  He wondered which side they’d been on.

            Remaining perpendicular to the other jeeps, the newcomers lined up in front of the storage units and opened fire.  The undead were fifty yards away, leaving plenty of time before they had to regroup.

            The undead approached for a few minutes, and then the two groups of jeeps moved away, falling back behind another row of buildings.  The jeep with a missing windshield broke away from the others and headed towards the Sergeant.  In response, Fredrickson instructed his driver to move further back from the fray.  As they moved closer, he recognized the men in the jeep.  One of them was Jim Summers, an internal security agent.  His job was to control crowds and identify potential threats.  He didn’t have a military rank and wasn’t supposed to be leading an attack.

            “Summers, what in the hell is going on?”

            “Don’t ask questions,” Summers said.

*

            “We have to seal the hole in the wall.”

            The undead had done their job.  There were enough of them in the compound and they were spread out enough to keep the guards occupied for hours.  There’d been enough confusion for Sanchez and a small unit to get inside of headquarters after flushing Olmstead out of the nest.  Now it was time for damage control.

            “How much ammunition do your men have?”

            “The 50 Cal’s are about to run dry, but we have enough rifle ammunition to last us a while.  Your men?”

            “We’ll be alright.  I need you to send one of your jeeps back to the motor pool and have them return with two troop transports.  The largest ones they can find.”

            “Since when do you give me orders anyway?”

            “Desperate times, my friend.”

            With that, the two jeeps rejoined their units.  Summers lined what had used to be an old man up in his sights.  Its pants were missing and the rags of a button up shirt hung from its shoulders.  The rags were soaked with so much dried blood that he couldn’t tell what color they’d once been.  The man looked like he’d died from a shotgun blast to the abdomen.  Before pulling the trigger, he wondered what the old man’s story was.

*

            They’d been in the tunnel for almost an hour when they first heard the moans.  Lou wondered how many of the undead were down in the dark with them and how they got there.  He remembered hearing a story about homeless people forming societies underground.  Many, he’d heard lived their whole lives without seeing the sun.

            Potentially hundreds of the undead could have been down there with them.  There had been maintenance workers who were down there on a regular basis.  And maybe in the early panic, people had fled to what they though was a safe place only to face other dangers.  However, Lou had personally helped clear out those tunnels.  He’d patrolled them years ago when he’d guarded the compound and he hadn’t heard stories of the undead down there in years.  Yet here they were.

            “You sent Jack and Ted down here?” Catherine asked.  The anger in her voice made Lou flinch.

            “There was no other choice.  It’s no more dangerous down here than out there.”

            She was about to say something else when Lou shoved a hand to her mouth.

            “Please.  I have to listen.”

            Both Sanchez and his soldier had turned on their flashlights.  Without them, they’d have had no way to see down there, but they’d be easy targets if Olmstead spotted the beams first.  He decided that with the undead down there, the old man wasn’t likely to set up an ambush.  Instead he was probably trying to find another safe way to the surface and an escort out of the base.

            “I think I know where they’re heading,” Lou said and turned right at the next tunnel.

*

            As the undead pounded on the main building, the snipers picked them off as fast as they could.  Though the moans overpowered the rifle reports, the undead mob seemed to be growing in slower numbers.  Many of the soldiers who’d have been exchanging gunfire with each other now intermingled, not sure who was on which side of the skirmish and not caring.

            Two soldiers on the second floor tossed Molotov cocktails outside of their windows.  They tossed them every few minutes in an attempt to keep the undead away from the opened doorway.  Though the upper floors were secured, exterminating the undead inside would be more dangerous and laborious than putting them down in the open.

            Luckily, the armory in the main building was better stocked than anywhere else in the compound and had been designed to withstand such an attack.  The soldiers could hold out inside of the base for days if they needed to.

*

            Shortly after they discovered their ride missing, Olmstead and Buckingham moved back into the tunnels.  Though there were bound to be mobs of the undead outside, they weren’t Olmstead’s only concern.  If the enemy had known about their escape plan, then there might be an ambush waiting for them on the surface.  Their only option was to move back to the compound and assume someone was hunting them below.

            Without the artificial light, they’d be blind.  Trained to keep his commander out of danger, Buckingham had turned on his flashlight and told Olmstead not to activate his.  They’d decided to take a roundabout way back to the compound to reduce the odds of running into a hunting party.  As they walked through sewer tunnels that hadn’t been explored in over twenty years, they decided to be extra cautious.  They moved slower, taking more care with the sound of their footsteps.

            Unconcerned with a hunting party, they worried about hibernating undead.  When they’d first build satellite compounds, they’d exterminated the undead inside of the tunnels within a two mile radius of the compound and along designated escape routes.  In the years that this compound had been occupied, they hadn’t encountered any ghouls in the tunnels, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.  The first rule of survival was to assume the worst.  To allow optimism was to let your guard down.

            After walking for what seamed like hours, the two men decided to take a break.  Without a word, they shared a canteen.  To save power, they’d turned off the flashlight, figuring they’d hear the stumbling, moaning corpses before they’d need to see them.

            They were right.

*

            It took less than twenty minutes for the men to return with two troop transports and reinforcements.  The transports were loaded with twenty more troops each, with men already firing through the side slots.  As the transports slammed through the crowd, Fredrickson and Summers ordered their men to fall in line behind the trucks.

            With the machine guns dry, the men only fired rifles while some of the others tossed fire bombs at dense portions of the crowds, hoping to scatter them.  The tactic worked.  With the extra muscle in front, they were able to find the position in the wall where the Sergeant had spoken with one of the sentries.  They were there as surveillance more than muscle so they hadn’t been equipped with more than fifty to a hundred rounds in each tower.  They also lacked any sort of heavy firepower or explosives so after only a few minutes all they could do was watch as their compound was invaded.

            Both of the tower guards cheered and waved as convoy advanced.

            The transport trucks immediately parked along the hole in the wall, one behind the other so the mass of corpses couldn’t tumble one of them over.  The men inside of the transports kept firing while the jeeps went after the stragglers.  With the hole closed, it was time to go hunting.

*

            When gunshots sounded, Lou signaled for the others to be quiet and follow him.  For all he knew, both Olmstead and a mob of zombies could be around the corner.  Readying their rifles, the three slowly approached the commotion.  A few minutes later, they caught a glimpse of a flashlight beam.  Lou and his soldier quickly killed theirs, hoping to maintain the element of surprise.

            The light swayed back and forth across the intersecting tunnel.  Someone shouted and there were more shots.  They seemed to be firing in both directions and more concerned with the undead than the possibility of ambush.  He held his position.  Neither the undead or Olmstead were in sight.

            The undead moans echoed eerily through the tunnels, but weren’t deafening.  There were less than a hundred of them, but that was still too many for comfort.  If he wasn’t careful during a retreat, Lou could easily lead his group into a dead end.

            “Hurry,” someone shouted.  This time, Lou recognized Buckingham’s voice.

            The flashlight beam shined across the tunnel as the burley soldier appeared in the hallway.  Before Olmstead popped into view, the light swung at Lou’s face leaving him no choice but to open fire.  Buckingham pivoted at the bullet slammed through his shoulder.  He cried out and grabbed Olmstead, shoving him down the other end of the hallway.

            Without protest, the old man ran.

            In the commotion, Buckingham had dropped his flashlight.  The beam illuminated his legs as he moved into a shooting stance.  Lou and the soldier scattered and ducked, making as small of targets as they could.  Following their example, Catherine hugged the ground.

            Two shots whizzed by before the dead were on Buckingham.  He cried out as one of them bit into his shoulder.  Shadows danced around the tunnel walls as rotting feet collided with the flashlight, sending it skidding and spinning around the floor.

            By the time Buckingham stopped screaming, the undead seemed to stop coming from the left.  None of them poured into the tunnel after the live prey so Lou assumed they were temporarily distracted by their meal.

            “Come on,” he said quietly.  “We don’t have much time.”

            Without waiting for their answers, Lou dashed through the tunnel and past the grotesque dog pile.  When no hands grasped at him, Lou looked back in time to see Catherine and the soldier follow.

            The there was a flash at the end of the tunnel as Olmstead fired on his pursuers.  Backlit by the downed flashlight, they made excellent targets.  Again, they scrambled to the ground and walls.  Lou managed to squeeze off two shots, which chipped the brick wall.  He hoped pellets or mortar sprayed Olmstead in the face.

            Just as Lou was about to get up to continue his pursuit two more shots sounded.  With the feasting undead just behind them, Lou realized that Olmstead had no reason to give up his position.  Soon they’d be forced to move away from the undead, putting themselves in an excellent position for getting shot.

            “Do you still have one of those grenades?” Lou shouted.

            The soldier shook his head.  He figured as much, but he’d made sure to shout the question loud enough for Olmstead to hear.

            “Fuck it.”

            Lou winded his arm back and hurled his flashlight towards Olmstead’s position.  Before the handheld lamp could smash against the wall, Lou charged.  When he reached the intersection, Lou lunged forward and somersaulted, stopping himself in a kneeling position.  Before trying to aim or getting a fix on Olmstead’s position, Lou opened fire.  The muzzle flash revealed the old man’s attempt to raise his rifle.  He only got it halfway up before the shots knocked him back.

            Lou wasn’t sure how many times he pulled the trigger before he realized the rifle was empty.  Slinging the rifle from his shoulder, Lou ran forward and pulled out his sidearm.  By the time he reached Olmstead’s body Lou could hear shots from Catherine and the soldier’s position.

            With his flashlight shattered several steps behind him, Lou needed to light a match to see the corpse.  As soon as the dim light flickered, Lou used his free hand to aim the pistol at Olmstead’s face and pulled the trigger.

            “What’s the escape plan?” the soldier shouted as the flashlight beam shined at Lou’s feet.

            “I think I know a way around them.  Let’s just hope we don’t surface the middle of a swarm.”


Table of Contents

Click here to go to Chapter 36Click here to go to Chapter 38

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