Zombie Killers (Prequel): Ice & Fire by Holmes John F. & Szimanski Ryan

Author:Holmes, John F. & Szimanski, Ryan [Holmes, John F.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2014-04-14T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Out of the dust and smoke stepped the guy in the black duster, pistol hanging low down at his side. He walked slowly up to us, eyes scanning around the area. He walked up to me, nodded to Doc, and stuck his gun back in his belt.

“Gunslinger, have you seen Flagg?”

“No, we lost him in the confusion. Just want to warn you, in a few minutes, this place is going to be turned in to a cinder. Helo takes eight, there’s only seven of us.”

He seemed to think about it for a few seconds. A look of longing showed on his face, but he shook his head.

“I have to follow Flagg where ever he goes.”

“In a few minutes, he’ll be toast. He isn’t going anywhere.”

“Regardless, I have my duty, just as you have yours. Maybe we’ll ride together in another life. Good luck, gunslinger.” He held out his mutilated hand, and I shook it.

“Nick. Nick Agostine.”

“Roland. Roland Deschaine.” With, he strode off into the camp.

Brit looked at him go. “Frigging wackos. Both of them.”

Red handed me the handset to the radio. In the distance, I we watched the surviving HUMVEE from the patrol charge across the square, mowing running people down and bumping over bodies. They knew what was going to happen, and were trying to get out. It seemed like they would, but a steel barrier shot out of the ground, closing the gate. They hit it at about forty miles per hour and stopped dead. A horde of Z’s came howling after them. The gunner let loose a wild burst from his machine gun, blowing bloody holes in bodies, but they still came on. The gun jammed and he pulled out his pistol, firing until the slide locked back. He might as well have been spitting into a wave. They swarmed him and tore him apart. None of us moved; our survival now depended on staying out of the way.

“LOST BOYS, THIS IS WARBIRD, FIVE MINUTES OUT.”

“Roger, Warbird, be advised, LZ may be hot.”

“UNDERSTOOD, LOST BOYS. MACGUIRE RIG EXTRACTION. MARK SMOKE, OVER.”

Ziv pulled the pin in a red smoke grenade, flipped off the spoon, and tossed it between us and the horde. It started billowing out, blocking the massacre in the square from view. An MH-60 Special Operations helo popped over the fence, the rotor wash sucking up the smoke into a giant swirl, and held at a hover thirty feet up. Two ropes bundles fell out, one from each side. Machine gun fire started raking the crowds on the other side of the smoke. The pilot wasn’t going to risk his multimillion dollar, rare post apocalypse aircraft by setting it down into chaos.

“HOOK UP!” yelled Doc. One each rope were four slings that clipped around a person’s chest. I slung mine under my arms and turned to check Red’s sling, making sure it was tight. He checked Ziv’s, and Ziv checked mine. On the other sling, the rest of the team did the same. The crew chief leaned out, saw that we were ready to go, and the rope tightened and heaved us up in the air.

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