Irregular Scout Team One: The Complete Zombie Killer series by Holmes John

Author:Holmes, John [Holmes, John]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-11-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 87

The news wasn’t any better the next morning. I had powered up the generator to supplement our batteries, and left the TV on all morning. I tried to pick apart details on what was happening, but all that I got out of it was that there was a shit storm of zombies heading north out of NYC. Apparently something had stirred them up, but the Army wasn’t saying. As I watched, the Verrazano Bridge fell into Lower New York Harbor, dropped by the Marines defending Staten Island. Another couple of billion New Dollars down the drain, and something that wouldn’t be rebuilt in my lifetime. Dumbasses could have just knocked a hole in both decks instead of dropping the whole span. Stupid Jarheads.

Red was still knocked out, helped along I’m pretty sure by something Brit had given him. We had carried the kid downstairs, and he lay strapped to a folding stretcher. Our packs were sitting by the door, weapons sitting on top of them, and I was adjusting the straps on my leg when we heard Joe call out to someone. It was obviously someone he knew, or he would have challenged them. This sounded more like a greeting than a warning.

The first one I saw was the last one I wanted to see. I actually didn’t see him first, I smelled him. Donny the Butcher. We never could find out his last name. The guy stunk to high heaven, and never, ever washed. He claimed that the smell kept the zombies off of him, and he was still crusted with blood from the last clearing trip we had been on.

“OUT!” yelled Brit. “Get your nasty ass out of my house. Go jump in the rive, before I throw you in. I’m not riding or fighting next to your nasty ass.” He stopped dead in the doorway, and beat a hasty retreat. Donny was terrified of Brit for some reason. I sighed, got up, and shot Brit a look. She shrugged her shoulders and made a “what?” gesture with her hands. I shook my head and walked out.

Donny, who had actually jumped into the river, was soon joined by a couple of others, and I looked them over as we did checks on our equipment. There were twelve all told. Tough-looking men, even two women, who had spent the last winter hacking out a living in an area that was rapidly turning back into a wilderness of ruined buildings and deserted fields. The biggest group was five guys, all ex-military, who were slowly looting Mechanicville of gold and silver. The rest, like Donny, were loners who enjoyed being away from society.

The leader of the Mechanicville crew, a burly former Marine named Jim Lock, came over to me, asking what was going on.

“Best I can tell, Jim, is that the lines are breached somewhere south of Poughkeepsie, and the Army is shitting a brick. Apparently all the Zs in NYC have gone apeshit.”

He nodded and scratched his chin. “Think that is going to cause any problems here?”

“Dunno.

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