The Dying of the Light (Short Stories): The Walker Chronicles (Tales From The Dying of the Light) by Kristopher Jason

Author:Kristopher, Jason [Kristopher, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: zombies
ISBN: 9781938821523
Publisher: Grey Gecko Press
Published: 2014-03-28T04:00:00+00:00

El-Harab Fishing Village

0415 Hours Local Time

The zodiac crunched ashore as the 6-man SEAL team leapt out, two men pulling it further up the beach to prevent it getting washed out by the tide. They caught up with the rest of the team, all of whom moved fast through the low scrub brush and up-and-over the dunes. It only took them a few minutes moving at speed to be among the homes and streets of the village, and they could hear occasional rifle or other small-arms fire coming from the edge of the village ahead.

Maxwell paused by the side of one structure and raised his night-vision device, pulling out the beacon tracker. His hand-signals to the other members of the team were swift and sure, indicating less than 1 click — one kilometer — to the target, in this case one Commander John Barker. Lowering his NVD once more, his vision of the landscape went a soft green, marred only slightly by the bright spots of the tall lampposts. The team slowed as they approached the last line of homes, and there was a click in Maxwell’s ear.

“Alpha Six, Alpha Four.” Alpha Four, call sign for one Jonas Kozac, was on the extreme eastern edge of their advance. “Multiple contacts acquired. Be advised, friendlies up top.”

“Roger, Alpha Four. Weapons free. Defensive positions, and stay frosty. Alpha Two, you’re with me, we’ll get the package. Call out to friendlies; no accidents, here. Move out,” replied Maxwell. Their desert camouflage made them nearly invisible in the pre-dawn hours, and he hated the thought of one of his team getting shot by some scared civvie.

The team crept forward slowly at that point, taking cover as they could find it, until they were all within sight of the last row of houses. Maxwell and Alpha Two moved west, towards the beacon from Barker’s last known position. As they approached the last house in the village, Maxwell marveled at the number of walkers laying dormant nearby. Spotting the crates that Barker and the others had used to climb up to the roof, Maxwell nodded.

Smart guy. He touched Alpha Two lightly on the shoulder, indicating he was moving, and they both ran for the crates, making almost no sound, even with their boots on the gravel. Certainly not enough for the guys on the roof to hear, now deafened by who knows how many gunshots. Maxwell called softly upward. “Friendlies on your six!”

“Clear!” came the reply from above, and Maxwell and his cohort climbed up, kneeling at the edge of the roof. Maxwell saw what could only be his target, Commander Barker, motioning to his comrades-in-arms that it was okay, and the other men joined them. They moved stiffly, having been in the same position for at least a few hours, obviously. Barker greeted him with an outstretched hand and a quiet voice.

“Commander John Barker, USS Forrestal,” said Barker, then motioned to the two men next to him. “This is Elder Hassan, and Tareq. I’m hoping you’re here for me, because you wouldn’t believe—”

Maxwell cut him off.

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