Cracked: A Deadland short story

It was the same look I'd seen on the faces of the civvies I'd left on a roof of an office building, promising them that a helicopter would soon arrive. They didn't believe me, but we'd left them anyway. Help wasn't coming then.

Just like help wasn't coming now.

"You heard the colonel," I said, keeping my voice just above a whisper. "Let's get the hell out of this shithole."

Hart motioned toward the big front window. "But we don't stand a chance out there. We'll never make it to the RP," he said, his voice raising an octave with every word.

"We can stay holed up here," I replied. "And in eighty minutes—if the zeds don't find us first—the Air Force is going to drop a shitload of H6s on our heads and blow us to kingdom come."

"We might be able to ride out the blast in here," Hart said.

I chortled. "Trust me, there's no riding out an H6 blast. If the initial explosion doesn't turn all your bones to powder, the following fire will barbecue you. And the matter isn't up for discussion. We crossed under I-80 already, which means we're on the north edge of town. We can make six clicks in eighty minutes."

Hart glared. "It might as well be six hundred clicks for how many zeds are out there."

"The matter is closed, Private," I growled out. "And, if you keep talking, we'll have biters here in no time."

I stared down Hart until he finally lowered his head. Hart was a fresh Army recruit, not even finished with basic training yet. Jonesie and I each had four years in the Guard. Thompson, a couple less. Not that branches mattered anymore. When the zed outbreak started, the military scrambled to pull together every able-bodied troop they could. Getting thrown into battle with new guys was bad enough. That Hart had seen right through me didn't make things any easier. I wasn't officer material, hell, I'd never planned on being one. I'd joined up to get college paid for. For fuck's sake, I was a weekend warrior who'd done more sandbagging than shooting. I'd never even seen action until yesterday.

I'd made lieutenant only three days ago. Two days ago, Lendt promoted me to captain. At how quickly the zeds were chewing up officers, I'd be a general by next week. It wouldn't matter that I'd just lost thirty-two troops under my command. They would keep throwing more troops from every branch at me until we ran out of troops to send to their deaths against an enemy that never stopped. How many had died under my command? Was it eighty now? No, more. Eighty-six.

"What's the plan, Maz?" Jonesie asked in a low voice, ever the calm one.

Pulled back to the current SNAFU, I swallowed. After being in a hot zone for over twenty-eight hours, I was mentally and physically exhausted. And now my closest friend, along with all that was left of the Third Platoon, was looking to me to save our collective ass.

"Take five—check your ammo and refill your canteens—and then we head out for the RP. We'll hoof it until the road opens up. Then we'll grab wheels," I finally said. "Thompson, open up some of those bags of ground coffee and run some water into them. It might help to mask our scent out there."

I'd lost five good men learning that little lesson. If it moved like a human, the zeds went after it. If it made noise like a human, the zeds went after it. If it smelled like a human, the zeds really went after it.

Thompson handed me a bag of soaked coffee grounds. I grabbed a clump and smeared the grounds across my vest, rubbing extra over a broad dark stain I'd acquired when Frankie bled out in my arms. The pungent smell of coffee grounds was a vast improvement from the stench of plague saturating the air and my clothes.

I climbed up on my knees, and raised my head just enough to peek over the counter and out the window. On the street, vehicles were mashed together, filling up every inch of open space in front of us. The lights on an ambulance still flashed, though they were growing dim. Even if we could make it through that obstacle course of twisted metal and mangled bodies, we'd never make it past the hundred or so zeds. We'd use up what little ammo we had left to clear out the herd. And who knew how many more the noise would draw out. Not to mention the fresh ones joining the bloody herd every minute.