The Winter Retreat |
|||||||
|
|
||||||||||||
The Winter Retreat
A third place contest entry by Darren Hardy
Through the binoculars I watched the snow falling on the killing zone between the base and the woods.
It sounded like they must be coming through the woods. That was good because the dead are a sorry bunch of clumsy bastards. They didn't cope well with uneven surfaces, trees, and rocks. Maybe they would just pass us by.
The corpses that were already along the length of the fence were tense, more alert. I watched a particularly nasty specimen pull itself erect. It tried to stand on footless stumps; took a tentative step and there was a crunching sound as a leg snapped and it collapsed back down to the ground only to try to claw itself up again.
I wanted to run; I couldn't face another all out battle. There were only six of us left and I think we had all lost our nerve for fighting after Washington. That was when we knew we weren't going to win.
The Sarge, took a quick glance over the top, pulled his pistol and winked at me "we'll be alright, we'll be alright".
"Christ we haven't been alright in two years" I replied, and he smiled.
"Let's get out of here Sarge, we can take the Humvee and make a break for it."
"That's court marshal material you're talking there. we still got responsibilities, we still have a job to do!"
"We've lost this war sarge, we lost it six months ago. Listen to those bastards howl…"
"If that's how you feel, here take my pistol shoot yourself in the head right now and get it over with." He held his pistol out to me, he new I wouldn't take it.
There was a sharp crack of an M16 from further along the perimeter.
The Huey's engines whined into life above a crescendo of gunfire as the dead once again attempted to claw their way through the chain link fence and into the Base.
The metal door of the barracks banged open, the dull toll of metal on brick like a gong announcing a grisly banquet. Sue came dashing out, M16 on one arm, baby cradled in the other. Behind her one, two, three, four, more filthy, starved, desperate survivors, hardly any different from their pursuers, were rushed from the station and crammed on board.
The chopper was capable of carrying nine passengers plus two aircrew but the number of people getting through to the helicopter pad in the town had dwindled within the last week and there wasn't enough time to wait for anymore. When the chopper returned in a couple of hour's time we would be the last to leave.
I couldn't wait.
One of the more recently dead; a young girl approached and began swinging backwards and forwards on the fence trying to use her weight to loosen the supporting poles. The fresh ones are much more dangerous than the older corpses. The more advanced examples surrounding her were pitiful creatures. Exposed too long to the biting cold they had black shriveled frost bitten fingers and limbs that had deteriorated to the point where they could have little hope of breaching the fence.
I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I shouldered my rifle and squeezed off a three round burst taking the top of her skull apart.
"Nice shooting Johnny, how many zombies you kill today?" Sue slumped down next to me, she was smiling but she looked exhausted and I new she was worrying about her mum who had gone missing after we had lost contact with the Birmingham shelter.
"I score it about 15."
I hazarded a glance over the top of the sandbags the Huey took off ok. Zombies were wandering directionless along the wire in two's and three's, some even turned back towards the forest and ambled after the retreating chopper. I watched the pitiful creatures and saw a flabby, bloated, corpse in pinstripe teeter and fall onto the packed snow. The guy must have been in a pretty advanced stage of 'the rot', because when he managed to crawl back onto his feet his stomach had torn open, leaving a large red gash that leaked a thin trail of intestine and a watery yellow fluid that stank like hell.
Sue joined the firing line, aiming short bursts into the throng, cutting the legs from under 'pinstripe suit'. The kneecap popped out through the ripped trouser.
The Sarge was shouting something, I couldn't hear above the clatter of weapon fire but I could see where he was pointing and as I watched a group of about twenty to thirty Zombies came lunging from out of the woods towards the fence.
The Squad opened up on full automatic and blew great chunks out of the mass of zombies, but the dead have no respect for casualties, we were outnumbered and in a few more seconds we would be lunch.
They broke against the fence like a wave of putrid flesh the post holding up the section popping out of the ground. I watched horrified as the momentum carried the dead meats over with the fence and saw them writhe amongst the barbed wire. One managed to free himself from the pile and rise to his feet. Staggering closer his vacant stare locked eyes with me and I saw a bestial hunger.
Then his head was gone in a mist of bright red blood.
Sue slammed the side of my helmet.
"Don't stand there gawking, get firing! You might want to die here, but I don't."
|