Zombie Theorem (Book 2): The Siege, page 10
I made my way down the stairs and listened to the quietness. I could see the lights the soldiers had set up shining into the front dining room. I made my way to my booth and was surprised to see six large men cleaning weapons and going through gear at the semi-destroyed eating bar that Brian and I had used for cover the day before. A man who made Brian look small snapped his attention to me, “Is everything okay, sir?”
“My name is Dan, and yeah, I just had enough sleep. Thought I’d come down here and go through my notes. Also find someone who smoked and see if I could bum one.”
The man reached into one of his various pockets on his vest and produced a pack. He shook one loose and offered it up. I put my Zomgo pack down and took the proffered cig. He flipped a Zippo lighter and flicked it to life. I took a deep pull and welcomed the sweet smoke into my lungs, calming me for a second. “You are with those SWAT guys, right?”
“Yes sir, and thank you for the cigarette and light.”
They all laughed at something I said. “You don’t need to call me sir. I am far from an officer.” He offered a hand that looked like it had seen more than any action stars had. I took it, afraid he would break my hand. Instead, he shook it firmly but not like he wanted to break my hand. “Names Hase. It’s German, means bunny. Don’t ask. The guys over there from farthest to nearest are Howser, Hunter, Harry, Helmut, and Heaven.”
I looked at him slyly and wanted to laugh, but instead nodded to them and took a hit off my cigarette, trying to hide the humor growing on my face.
They all started laughing, then Hase spoke up, “I know what you are thinking. First, we have been working as a team for ten years. We had our first mission in Germany, and were given our names by a grizzled old GSG9 sergeant. He thought it would be funny to name us all with an H.”
I looked at him questioningly, “What is the GSG9?”
Howser answered that question in his best German accent. “Zey are ze greatest anti-terrorist team in their country, ja!” I laughed. He dropped the accent. “They were formed after the failed Munich Massacre at the Olympics in 1972. That’s where a bunch of Israeli Olympians were kidnapped and killed in a failed rescue attempt by the German police. So they created the GSG9, who are mean and wild sons of bitches.”
“Well, that makes much more sense.” I sat down at my booth and leaned back. Howser came over and sat down at the other side, handing over a cup of hot coffee. I took a timid first sip and was floored. This was my brew of coffee, or pretty darn close to it. “Where did you get this coffee?”
“Heaven over there is a coffee connoisseur, or as we call him, a snob.”
I looked over at Heaven questioning, “Heaven, I am also a coffee snob. Do you get this from a small farm in Colombia? Maybe from Moreno Granja Tintico?” That means Moreno farm, of black coffee, for those who don’t speak Spanish.
Heaven’s cold blue eyes just about fell out of his head. “No way! You drink this too?”
“About six years ago, I went on a vacation in Colombia and found that little farm. Little Moreno abuela took me in for a couple of days and taught me what Tintico was. Since then, she sends me a couple of pounds a month. I had to get special permission from customs, but after a ton of paperwork I was granted my shipments. I hope the family is ok down there.”
“I found them during my first mission,” Heaven explained. “Not military, though. I was in the seminary becoming a priest. It was much later in my life when another call came from high above. I see myself as a warrior of Heaven now. I smite the wicked with my brothers at arms now.” He smiled at me and took my hand warmly, shaking it. “It is nice to meet someone so cultured.”
“I wouldn’t say I was cultured, but I know what I like and what I don’t. I was nothing but an office dweller who went on vacation and discovered a great coffee and a greater people.”
“Wait, are you the same Dan who survived the Transamerica Tower?” Heaven looked around to his team.
“One in the same.” I hid a little awkward look with my coffee. How the hell did they learn about me?
“Captain Phillips mentioned you and your story. Seems you are more than just an office dweller,” Hase said from his place at the bar. “According to many of his troops, you saved a couple of guys and fought like a demon.”
Dammit, I was hoping to let that image of me go. I went to open my mouth to deny these things when Brian and Kuppers appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “He is about to say he didn’t do those things, but he did. He’s just not comfortable with praise or acknowledgement, but we were there. We saw it all.”
I threw a pencil from the table at Brian, and he caught it without looking. I growled at him. He chuckled at my discomfort. Just then, Apache came around them. She stood in the middle of the room and stared at Hase. “Well holy hell! Is that you, Hase?”
Hase dropped the gun he was working on and ran down the aisle, picking Apache up in a giant bear hug. “Oh my God! Apache, what the hell are you doing here? Last time I saw you was during that terrible time in the mountains of Hindu Kush near the Shibar Pass.”
“That was a bad fucking time, that’s for sure. I decided not to re-up after that affair. Lost too many friends. You were not in Delta back then, though. When did this happen?”
Hase finally put her down. “Oh, I was in Delta then. Just not with my team at that point. I was helping another team root out some assholes and just ended up being in that fire fight. Are you with that SWAT team?”
“That SWAT team is the best team on the west coast. This is my commander, Jon Kuppers.”
Jon shook his hand and sized up Hase, as Hase did the same to him. Brian stepped in and introduced himself to the team, “I’m Brian Leeder, just another one of Uncle Sam’s wayward Marine sons.”
The Delta guys shook his hand and did that military thing where they talked about where they have been and what shit they saw. I ignored them and enjoyed my hot cup of unbridled love. As I finished, Heaven came over and refilled it. He winked at me and went back to the conversation happening around the room. I was so far detached from the moment that I hadn’t noticed the whole team had come downstairs.
Suddenly, I heard my name and it shook me out of my own little world filled with coffee kisses, sunshine, and unicorns. I know, I’m a giant dork and love coffee a little too much. Although that’s not possible. To love coffee too much, that is.
“What’s up?” I inquired, not really sure who was talking to me.
“The sun is coming up, and we are saddling up. Coming with?” Apache asked.
I slid out of my seat and collected my gear. The Delta team shook my hand and wished me a safe trip.
Heaven came up and handed me a thermos. “For the road, my friend. May God go with you and his angels protect you and your team.”
I gave him a man hug and thanked him for his gift and good tidings. Hase came up next and handed me a big zip-up sports bag. The bag almost pulled me to the floor. “Those are party favors. Brian and Doc will know what to do with them when they are needed. Also, I saw your little shot gun and hooked you up with some of my personal loaded shells. Nothing survives them. Good luck, bud.”
I thanked the rest and half-carried, half-dragged the bag out the door and out to the Humvee. Brian saw me coming, came over, and lifted the bag like it was filled with balloons. Sometimes he can be such a show off ass. “The nice Delta guys said they are party favors and that you and Doc would know how to use them.”
Brian gave me a weird look and unzipped the bag a little. He let out a whoop and called over Doc. He then pulled out another bag and handed it to me. “I believe this ammo is for you and your magic dragon.” I took the bag and again almost got a hernia. Must’ve been filled with shells, maybe close to thirty pounds’ worth. I watched as Doc and Brian did a little happy dance over what was in the bag. They divided up the contents and packed it away in their Humvees. I made my way to my assigned Humvee and climbed into the back. The seats were not that comfy, but the heavy door felt safe. I put my Zomgo and new ammo bag on the floor between my legs and pointed the barrel of my MP5 to the ground.
Apache sat at the driver’s position and looked back at me, “Comfy, hun?”
“Very. Thank you, sweetheart,” I commented dryly.
Brian climbed in and stepped up into the hole in the middle of the roof. Later, I was told it was called a cupola and allowed him to fire the MK-19 grenade launcher. Angel sat in the seat behind Apache, and Vic took the front passenger navigator seat.
Chapter 4
Cupcake drove the lead Humvee and pulled away, heading onto the bridge first. Apache followed after giving him time to put some distance on us. We crossed over the bridge and continued north on Highway 1. We drove through small towns and around, sometimes pushing through broken down or abandoned vehicles. Many miles flowed by as I watched the scenery go by. After four hours of travel down the highway and through small towns, Cupcake’s Humvee came to a slow stop in the middle of the road.
Vic climbed out, and I followed to give him cover if he needed it. I continuously swept my rifle to the hills to our right and then back toward the fields and ocean to our left. I looked up and saw Doc in the cupola manning the .50 Cal. He threw me a little salute and swept his gun around to cover the front. I looked back and saw Brian pointing the MK19 backwards covering our rear. Senshi was on a knee now covering the fields and ocean, so I turned and covered the trees and hills to the right. I listened in on Vic and Kuppers’ conversation.
“We are outside Mendocino. I don’t want to move in en masse until it has been reconned, and we know what we are going to be facing. Whether it be zombies, Ridder, or just survivors. Who do you suggest we send?”
Vic answered after thinking for a minute, “Senshi and Brian, I’ll take over the MK-19. I want Apache to stay in the driver’s seat.”
“Agreed. Go switch positions with Brian, then follow us off the road and we will set up a rest area while they do their thing,” Kuppers ordered.
I followed Vic back to the Humvee and listened while he ordered Brian to recon with Senshi. They switched places, and we followed Cupcake up the road and into a copse of trees off the street. They parked the Humvees bumper to bumper and set up a secure area. Brian and Senshi geared up and took off running down the road.
I geared up and grabbed Doc’s attention.,“Why don’t we go for a recon on our own of the area?”
“Sounds good, buddy. Leave your pack. We won’t need the extra supplies.” He shifted his attention to Kuppers, “We are going to range out and make sure the area is safe.” Kuppers nodded his agreement.
I watched Angel and Apache sit down on the back of the Humvee and start playing cards, as Cupcake topped the tanks of the Humvees with diesel. Vic and Kuppers sat at the hood of one of the Humvees going over a map. Doc and I checked our gear one more time, making sure we had ammo and the supplies we would need. We worked our way back down the road we came up for two miles, then climbed up the small hill to the east and worked our way back toward the Humvees. Doc put his hand out, slowing then stopping my progress. He dropped to a knee and pointed toward a house just behind a small berm of dirt and rocks.
I dropped to my knee and raised my MP5 toward the house. I watched as a small horde of six zombies stood around the house, pounding on walls. I moved my eyes to the top windows of the house and was surprised to see a young face that popped out from behind the curtains. It then popped back into the darkness. “Doc, a small child’s face just popped out through the curtains at the half window upstairs. What do you suggest we do?”
“We do not have silencers, so we cannot use our guns or we will give away our position to other zombies or anyone else around. How would you handle this?” He chewed on his gum.
I unslung my MP5 and laid it on the ground. I pulled one of my collapsible batons and handed it to Doc. He read the situation and nodded his okay. He put his M4 on the ground and watched as I stretched and limbered up. I removed my other baton and snapped it open. “Follow my lead, stay out of their reach, and keep moving.”
I stood up and trotted my way over toward the house. I put my fingers to my lips and let out a shrill whistle. The zombies turned toward me and started working their way over. I controlled my breathing and waited patiently, working out which ones were more of a risk to us. Doc came up beside me and looked over at me. “Take the faster ones first and try to stand behind them and cause the slower ones to trip up on them. Then you can take them out,” I told him.
Doc cocked his head at me like a dog listening to a far off sound. “When did you become such a bad ass?”
I gave him an awkward look and shook my head. “I am not a bad ass, but I learned how to fight these things in the Tower remember?” I stepped forward and cracked the first zombie behind where her ear used to be with my baton. She fell, and I sidestepped to make sure she was between me and the next zombies in line. I had time to look over them, which was a mistake. My mind tended to try and humanize them or think about what or who they used to be. The next one in line was a young teenaged boy. He was missing his left arm and had a hole gouged into his stomach, allowing his greasy intestines to hang down to his knees and cause him to stumble at every step. I wondered how he had died, felt pain for the ones who loved him when he was alive, and was curious as to how he had died. He stepped on the downed zombie and tripped over it, landing on his face. I heard his nose crack, and I took that as my cue to swing the baton downward splattering his brains on the grass. I took my time to clean the tip of the baton on his shirt and stepped back.
The next zombie looked to be an old grandpa. His left leg was mangled and stripped of most muscle and skin. A shiny metal caught my eye, and I paid a little closer attention. I was amazed that it was a titanium hip replacement. He stepped on his good leg, then lifted and dragged his damaged leg. I stepped forward and, using the tip of the baton, pushed him down to the ground as he tried to lift his bad leg. I pulled the Kabar knife and dropped my knee onto his chest, pinning him to the ground. I shoved the Kabar into his right eye and twisted as it slid into the brain below. The zombie stopped moving, and I pulled the knife free and cleaned it on its shirt. I stood up with the Kabar in my left hand and baton in my right. I checked on Doc and saw him with two zombies taken down, but looking like he was having a problem with his third. It had latched onto the baton, and he was spending too much time trying to get it back. I ran in his direction and flat kicked the zombie in the chest, knocking it down and freeing its grip on the baton. Doc stepped back, and I swung my baton like a golfer trying to knock his ball four hundred yards. The crack of the zombie’s head was loud and echoed off the mountains and house.
“Next time, drop your weapon and knock it down. If you try and fight back for your weapon, they are way too strong and will trip you up,” I offered my advice.
Doc looked over at me and shook his head in shame. We cleaned our batons, made our way back toward our weapons, and geared back up. As we started on our way back to the house, the front door opened and an older man carrying a hunting rifle came out. He wasn’t exactly pointing the barrel at us, but you could tell he was ready to.
Doc put both hands up in a non-aggressive gesture. “Hold on, sir. My friend and I are police officers from San Francisco. We mean you no harm. We were clearing the area around our camp and came across your situation. We don’t want anything from you and are happy to move on.”
The man eyed us over the top of his glasses. He lowered his rifle’s barrel to the ground and took his finger off of the trigger. “I guess with your guns you could’ve taken us out pretty easily. Thank you for your help with our problematic trespassers.”
I rested my hands on top of the gun, and we made our way over to him. “Glad we could help. Do you know how bad it is up north of here?”
The man offered his right hand for a shake, and we took turns shaking it. “Mendocino is not good at all. If I was you, I would try and go around it.”
I looked over at Doc, and he shook his head. “How many times have you had to deal with these things?”
“In the beginning, we had a couple almost every day for a couple of days, but we found out that if we waited quietly they would move on. Then for a week we didn’t see even one. Thought everything was over and was waiting for the power to come back on and for the President to come over the TV, making some kind of announcement. Then the day went by and nothing. Then another. And another. We came out of the house yesterday to work on our little garden and fetch some canned food from the garage cellar and these things showed up. We hunkered down, but they didn’t go away this time. I was going to do something today about it when you fine gentlemen showed up and took care of the problem. Thank you again. Sorry for the hostility at first. Can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“No worries, we understand. I’m Doc, and this is Dan. We are members of the San Francisco SWAT team,” Doc introduced us.
“What got you so far from home, boys?”
“San Fran was sacked last week, pretty much burned down and knee deep in those things. It’s very bad. We are heading to Fort Bragg on a personal mission, I guess you could say,” Doc informed our new friend.
“I can’t believe this thing has gotten so far out of hand. Any other news?” He looked back at the house, then nodded his head, “Sorry guys, I’m being rude. Name is Mike Evans. Wanna come in for a drink?”
I looked around the hill and settled back on the house, “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Evans, but we need to finish our sweep. How many are there of you?”
“My wife and two daughters.”
“If you have a car, I suggest vacating this area and heading south to Bridgehaven at the Russian River bridge. There is a contingent of U.S. soldiers there. They can help get you to a safer area. I’m afraid you could get over run if the towns up north get loose and come this way.”
The man’s eyes grew wide and looked back toward the house. He removed his dirty San Francisco Giants hat and pushed back his greying wispy hair. “That sounds like a good idea. I think we will pack up some stuff and get going then. Thank you for your help again, guys. Be safe and take care.”
