The Apocalypse Crusade 2 by Peter Meredith

Author:Peter Meredith [Meredith, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-08-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Into the Past

2:18 p.m.

Specialist Melvin Delray, a medic with the 427th Brigade Support Battalion was the first to spot the zombies. He’d been leaning back in his foxhole with his mask tilted back on his head, enjoying the sun on his face, when the first of them made its not-so-grand appearance. At a hundred yards, it looked just like a person. It reminded him of his father, being of about the same age and dressed for golf.

“Ah, shit,” Mel-Ray whispered. All his friends called him that and had since he was a boy. The physically closest friend to him just then was PFC Rogers who sat thirty yards away on the lip of his foxhole, doodling in the dirt with a stick. For them, the beginning of the apocalypse had been a dull affair. They had been rushed out to the eastern perimeter hours before, their heads filled with wild imaginings, their bodies weighted down with gear, and their lips beaded with sweat.

At first, it had been terrifying. Their foxholes were spaced a hundred feet apart and in many instances, the soldiers couldn’t see their nearest neighbors. All of them had expected great mobs of flesh-eating monsters to appear at any second and there had been a number of random shootings as panicked men fired at birds or shadows. Sometimes this set off a torrent of shooting from the men up and down the line.

But then the hours ticked away and many began to even doubt there were zombies at all.

“Someone got punked, big time,” PFC Rogers had said an hour before. He had slipped out of his foxhole to visit Mel-Ray and the two had chatted, neither wearing a mask and both with their MOPP coats opened wide because of the heat. A car’s engine had spooked Rogers into thinking their sergeant was coming around for another inspection and he had scurried back to his hole in the ground.

Now, fifteen minutes later, there was a zombie…and another…and more, emerging from the forest across from the line. Mel-Ray slunk down into his foxhole until only his eyes sat above the dirt. He hissed “Rogers!”

“What?” Rogers replied, in a bored voice. The single word was very loud; to Mel-Ray’s frightened mind, it almost seemed like he screamed it. Mel-Ray didn’t answer, he just pointed.

“Holy shit,” Rogers whispered and then slid down into his hole so that Mel-Ray couldn’t see him. When he came back up his mask covered his face and his coat was buttoned to the neck. His weapon was at the ready as well.

That seemed like a smart idea and Mel-Ray, his hands shaking like crazy, fumbled his mask on and then gloved and buttoned up. Next, he grabbed up his M16 that had spent the afternoon leaning against the side of the pit, and popped up like a jack-in-the box ready to spray bullets everywhere. The zombies were only halfway across the weed field in front of him; fifty yards away.

Mel-Ray was itching to start shooting. He

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