Zombie War: An account of the zombie apocalypse that swept across America by Ryan Nicholas

Author:Ryan, Nicholas [Ryan, Nicholas]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, azw, epub, mobi
Published: 2014-11-16T16:00:00+00:00

“It was a target rich environment,” Specialist Marcel Rodriguez said to me without relish – without any hint of pleasure. “They were thick on the ground, pressing against the barbed wire. From that range, we couldn’t miss.”

Rodriguez, one of the 82nd Airborne’s designated marksmen was posted in the middle of the line when the zombie horde spilled out across the rolling fields that fateful dawn. He remembered the battle clearly; the sights and sounds of that action still a harrowing torment to him, as it was for many of the men who stood in the trenches throughout the Battle of Four Seasons.

Rodriguez was armed with an M14, equipped with a Sage stock and with a mounted Leupold scope.

“We started firing when the dreads were five hundred yards away, and we didn’t stop firing for near eight hours,” the soldier explained. “We were pissing while we stood and shot. There just wasn’t an option. No one could be spared, so we just urinated against the wall of the trench and got on with the business at hand.”

Rodriguez was one of the men who formed the ‘chest’ of Colonel Clayton Paris’s static buffalo defense. He said the undead horde that came towards Hendersonville that morning was nothing like he had expected.

“We had seen the media stuff,” he said. “You couldn’t avoid it, but even so the reality when they came through the trees was a lot more intense than anything the television had shown.”

“What do you mean by ‘intense’?” I asked. Rodriguez was a young man, not yet twenty-five, with jet-black hair and one single eyebrow that seemed to reach right across his brow. He had flashing white teeth and Latino features.

“The sound of them,” he shook his head like it still echoed inside his mind, “was terrifying. It wasn’t a cohesive kind of battle cry – it wasn’t like a chorus of voices all calling out the same words. It was more animalistic. More raw than that. It was a wild insane sound. It was chilling.”

“How were the men around you at that point?” I asked. “The rest of the guys you must have hung out with in your unit?”

Rodriguez shrugged. “We were all pretty scared,” he admitted. “Nothing wrong with that. Everyone gets scared before going into action. The guys around me were nervous. We just looked at each other with this kind of what the fuck expression in our eyes.”

“And then you started firing, right?”

He nodded. “At five hundred yards,” he said again. “There was artillery coming in from behind our position, falling amongst the dreads once they cleared the trees. The rest of the guys sat tight, but as an SDM, it was up to guys like me to start picking off the nearest dreads before they got too close.”

“So you’re a sniper, right?”

“Like a sniper,” Rodriguez said, “but we’re not snipers – our training isn’t that specialized. Our role is to lay down accurate fire for our fire team at a range up to around eight hundred yards.

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