Apocalypse Atlanta (Book 2): Apocalypse Aftermath (Book 2) Read online

Taking a deep breath, Jessica looked to her own area of responsibility as the shooting continued. Still clear to the right of the SUV. But she couldn’t help herself from checking on what was happening forward when she finished the circuit. Most of the zombies were down now, but many were still moving. She shuddered as she saw people who – as far as she knew from what the news had been saying were dead – continued crawling and clawing their way forward even as more bullets hit them. Some were missing limbs, others had limbs only attached by ragged remnants of tissue and bone, and many showed obvious signs of heavy damage to their chests and backs.

  Yet they kept moving, not showing the slightest sign the shocking injuries bothered them at all. It was horrific, but she’d seen a lot of horror of late. It was disturbing, but not to a level that paralyzed her. Not anymore.

  “Candice, you’re still watching where you’re supposed to?” she asked as she saw one corpse take a series of shots that shredded its back enough to reveal a lot of its previously internal organs.

  “Yes. Mr. Morris is out of his car, but he’s just standing next to it with a gun in his hands.” Candice confirmed. Jessica glanced over her shoulder quickly to see Tyler Morris visible on foot next to the BWM he and his family were riding in. He had a pistol in his right hand, but he wasn’t firing. Candice’s head was still making a steady circuit across the left and back windows, and she continued speaking without pausing or turning. “No zombies.”

  “Good.” Jessica said, turning back and surveying the right side again before looking forward once more. The shooting was tailing off, but she made herself check her area twice before pausing to try and figure out what was happening up front. All the zombies were down now, though some were still moving. Austin seemed to be urging everyone to back off and stop firing. Slowly the Eagle people got the idea, and the shooting stopped, though no one lowered a weapon.

  Austin eased forward after a few seconds, sliding through the firing line, and aimed carefully. His weapon spat a single bullet, and a zombie stopped trying to get up and lay still. The killing field in and in front of the cleared channel in the roadblock was covered in gore; mostly bodies and body parts. There was blood, but not nearly enough it seemed to her. For the amount of damage the twenty or so zombies had suffered, she would have expected the asphalt to be coated with a thick pool of blood, but what little she saw seemed almost gel like.

  Her gorge twisted within her, and Jessica tore her gaze from the sickening scene, refocusing on the right side of the SUV. Several more shots sounded as she scanned across the shoulder, each spaced well apart from the previous one, and she figured that was Austin finishing off any zombies who were still . . . alive . . . dangerous . . . whatever. She didn’t have to try very hard to keep her gaze off the horror show out front as she watched the trees and listened to Austin cleaning up the last of the danger.

  She heard voices, raised to shouts, but none sounded panicked. “Everything’s fine.” she told herself as she kept studying the roadside. “There would be a lot more shooting if it wasn’t, or Austin would get everyone back in the ca—” Jessica jumped in her seat as the driver’s door opened abruptly. She banged her bandaged knee into the bottom of the dashboard as she flinched violently, her head snapping around to the left even as her right hand grabbed for the pistol holstered on her belt.

  “Easy, easy.” Austin said, holding his hand up to her. “Just me.”

  “Jesus.” Jessica breathed. “You . . . damnit!”

  “Sorry.” he said, sliding in behind the wheel and pulling his door closed. A heavy smell of gunpowder came in with him, cloying and acrid. He thumbed the locks, then bent to pull a black metal case from beneath his seat. “How we doing ladies?” he asked as he propped the case up on the center console.

  “That was a lot of shooting.” Candice remarked.

  “Yeah, but we’re good. Problem solved.” Austin answered as he opened the case to reveal cardboard boxes of bullets. “No one’s hurt, and we’ll get moving in a moment.”

  Jessica shifted as she avoided looking forward. Her knee was throbbing somewhat, but the thick bandage had taken the worst of the bump. The painkillers she’d been given were wearing off, and the joint was hurting again. She had more pills, but she had decided she wanted to hold off taking any more if at all possible. They made her head fuzzy, and the pain was easier to deal with than the fear that she might not have her full attention available in case something happened.

  Jessica got her heel settled back into place on the towels, then held her hand out to Austin. “I can do that.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then smiled and put the magazines he’d pulled from his equipment harness into her hand. “No hurry.”

  “Not on this, no.” she replied. “But get us out of here as soon as everyone’s ready.” She didn’t want to linger in the area. The gore was a minor concern, but the chance the shooting could attract more zombies was a big one. Get while the getting’s good, as Brett had used to say.

  “No argument.”

  Jessica pulled a box of nine millimeter bullets from the metal case as Austin looked over his shoulder toward the back of the convoy. Jessica glanced too, and saw Candice was still kneeling on the seat. “Candice, sit down. Seatbelt.” she told her daughter

  “Okay.”

  “Scott, let me know when everyone’s back in their vehicle.” Austin said into his radio.

  “Almost ready.” a man’s voice said from the speaker as Candice’s seatbelt clicked from the backseat. Jessica opened the box and started fitting fresh bullets into the first empty magazine. It was slightly warm, and it and the bullets had a faintly greasy feel, but she took her time as she loaded the magazine methodically. The MP5 magazine was longer than the one for the .45 pistol at her side – which she’d read the manual for – but she quickly found the same procedure described for the pistol worked to refill the 9mm magazine.

  “Okay, starting the go signals.” the same voice said from Austin’s radio. Jessica’s eye was drawn to flashes in the side mirror, and she saw headlights coming on and blipping their high beams briefly one after the other as the convoy drivers confirmed they were ready go to. The BMW directly behind them flashed its lights, and Austin got the SUV rolling.

  “This is going to be bumpy.” he remarked.

  Jessica nodded without looking up. She’d already seen more than she cared to of the carnage left after the zombies had been dealt with. “Are we going to get stuck?”

  “I’m a touch worried about the BMW.” Austin admitted. “But we’ve got ropes. If they get bogged down and can’t work free, I can pull them out. This has got enough ground clearance that I’m positive we’ll be fine.”

  Jessica nodded again, concentrating on the magazine and bullets. As she continued stuffing them in it was getting harder, which she remembered the manual had mentioned. Something about the spring that fed them up during firing compressing as it was pushed down. The SUV rocked as its own shocks compressed when the tires hit the first bodies. Jessica stopped her work with the bullets, but kept her eyes on her hands as the vehicle drove through the gap in the vehicle wreckage. She had to force herself to think about the bullets and the magazine to keep her mind off what was probably happening beneath the heavy SUV’s wheels.

  “And we’re through.” Austin remarked. Jessica risked a glance up and saw open road ahead of them, two lanes of clear asphalt bordered by shoulders with scrub grass and weeds clinging to red clay soil before the ubiquitous pine trees took over.

  “Yay.” Candice chirruped from the back seat.

  “Yay is right.” Austin smiled briefly, his eyes on the rearview mirror as he let the SUV creep forward with his foot off the accelerator. Jessica wanted to look herself to see how the BMW was doing, but that would mean . . . no. She went back to stuffing bullets into the magazine. The last two took considerable effort to get in, but she managed while Austin watched what was going on behind them. The other magazine still had bullets in it, but when she tried to load a
fresh one there was room, so she started on it as well.

  “Good.” Austin added a moment later.

  “What?” Jessica looked up, but the scene was still clear.

  “They’re through.” Austin said, depressing the accelerator slightly to increase speed.

  “Yay.” Candice said.

  “Right again girlie-girl.”

  “It sounded like there was a lot of zombies back there.”

  “Were.” Jessica corrected automatically. “Were a lot of zombies.”

  “Right.”

  Austin shrugged. “Not too many. We’re fine.”

  “Thank you Mr. Carter. I’m glad you’re here keeping us safe.”

  He laughed lightly. “What did I say you’re supposed to call me?”

  Jessica glanced back in time to see Candice squirming uncertainly in her seat. Her daughter met Jessica’s gaze before lowering her eyes. “I’m supposed to call adults Mr. and Mrs.” she muttered.

  “Well—” Jessica began, before looking at Austin, who was smiling and clearly struggling to keep from laughing. She gave him a helpless shrug, which he returned by winking, and she resisted the urge not to scowl at him. He was having so much fun he clearly wasn’t going to intervene. “Since Austin said it’s okay, and since he’s being such a big help to us, I guess you can call him Austin.”

  Candice clapped her hands twice. “I’m glad you’re here Austin.” she said, clearly eager to try out the new form of address.

  “I’m glad I can help keep everyone safe.” Austin said gravely. “And thank you Mom.” he added, winking at Jessica again. “When people call me Mr. Carter it makes me want to look around for my dad.”

  “Mr. Morris calls you Mr. Carter.” Candice observed.

  “Yes, but he’s my boss. I suppose he gets to call me just about whatever he wants.”

  Jessica winced as her finger slipped on the bullet and caught painfully on the magazine’s lip. She examined her finger briefly, but no blood was evident. As she waited for the stinging to fade she caught Austin’s eye again. He was still amused, and now she did let a bit of a scowl appear. “Be nice, Mr. Carter.” she muttered.

  “It takes some practice.” he said by way of apology before glancing back to the rearview mirror.

  “So I see.”

  “What’s wrong?” Candice asked.

  “Nothing sweetie.” Jessica said as she picked the bullet up out of her lap and tried again to get it fed into the magazine. “Everything’s fine.”

  “So far” she added mentally as she kept reloading the magazine and Austin guided the SUV down the road.

  * * * * *

  Peter

  “We might have a problem out here.”

  Peter paused with his face only half shaven and set the razor down next to the sink. Lifting the radio he hadn’t reattached to his gear webbing after his shower, he pressed the button. “This is Gunny, what is it?”

  Mendez’s voice sounded faintly amused. “Double handful of the balance challenged just rounded the north corner past the gas station.”

  “Me and Oliver can take care of it if the ground team swings back a little.” Swanson cut in.

  “Right.” Crawford sneered audibly before Peter could respond. “I’d better swap with one of them or we’ll be out of ammo.”

  “Hey fuck you Crawford, we’re good.”

  “Good for nothing you mean.”

  Sighing, Peter clipped the radio into place and picked up his AR-15 as he opened the bathroom door. Steam swirled out into the bedroom as Swanson and Crawford laid into each other. He’d split the two of them up because while they seemed like they were friends, of a sort, they also weren’t able to get along without a healthy amount of friction. He should’ve known better.

  “—so hot, why don’t we all just sit on our asses while you head on down and talk to them zombie y mujer.” Swanson was saying as Peter crossed the bedroom.

  “Takes a woman to do a man’s job.”

  “So go get Whitley then Crawford. Better, we could fetch out that pregnant lady in 217.”

  “And you can be the on-call for when we need someone without balls.”

  “Fuck you, I’ve got balls twice as big as your ego.”

  “Where, in a box at your mom’s house? They don’t work if they’re not attached you know.”

  Peter opened the door, stepped out onto the motel’s second floor walkway, and slammed it closed behind him as hard as he could. As the noise reverberated, he managed to glare in both directions down the walkway by swiveling his head quickly back and forth. Two soldiers in mottled green and black utility outfits were in place at the ends of the walkway, one pair each covering the top of the stairs that led up from the parking lot. The cross-talk on the frequency died, and Peter lifted his radio.

  “If you’re both done fucking off.” Peter said with only a mild edge of reproach in his tone. “Mendez, handle it but fade back to the motel while you are. Don’t let anything get too close. North corner, cover him from your position.”

  “We’re not too worried about the noise?” Mendez asked.

  “Not with the Wonder Twins yelling at each other.” Peter shook his head slightly. “Someone let me know if a real problem comes up. And knock off the unnecessary chatter. We’re all tired. You can hold off pointing out each other’s shortcomings until later.”

  He fixed a steady look at the north end of the walkway, where Swanson and Oliver were stationed, and saw Oliver shove Swanson a little. To the south, Crawford and Barker were looking away from him, but she wasn’t on her radio anymore, so he decided she’d gotten the message.

  As he heard Mendez and Dorne begin firing, tapping out single shots, Peter went back in the room he’d commandeered. The shooting ended by the time he finished his interrupted shave, and no one came back on the radio to report any problems. He washed the last traces of shaving cream from his face and dried off with a washcloth, then left the bathroom door open to finish airing out and went back into the bedroom.

  Collapsing across the bed, Peter allowed himself a groan as the surprisingly soft mattress took his weight. He was getting too damned old to spend days on his feet in the field, though it was a point of pride that he could still keep up. As long as the Tylenol held out. At least it was all just aches and pains and not actual injury that had him grateful for the soft bed. With any luck he’d get the chance to enjoy it at least until the afternoon, assuming his reservists could hold down the fort. It had been a long couple of days.

  Dangerous days.

  Before he could close his eyes, a brisk knock came at the door. Peter answered without looking; didn’t even bother to sigh. Price of being in charge. “Come.”

  “Gunny, I was going to have a look at your hands.” Whitley said as she opened the door.

  “They’re fine.” he said.

  “Come on, you know better.” the National Guard corporal said reprovingly. “We need you in shape or we’re all in trouble.”

  “I cleaned them before I took a shower.” Peter sighed, sitting up. The disinfectant he’d poured over his cuts had stung like hell, but he wasn’t about to let the wounds fester. This was sure as hell not the time to lose the use of his hands.

  “Fine, then let me finish treating them for you.”

  “It’s not the end of the world.”

  “Uh, yes it is. Or have you forgotten in your old age.”

  “Cute. You guys are just killing me.”

  Whitley laid a medical kit on the table and popped it open. “If you let them get infected we’re fucked, so come on, ass in the chair Marine.”

  Peter heaved himself off the bed and dropped into one of the chairs after she’d repositioned them to face each other. “Please tell me you remember your basic first aid.”

  “Basic, yeah. It’s just ointment and bandages. If you want stitches then we’ll have to find a real medic.”

  “You’re going to make someone a fine wife someday.”

  “Nice of you to notice
.” Whitley grinned as she opened a small tube of antibacterial cream. Peter laid his hands out palms up on the table for her, and she started squeezing the ointment across the broken skin on his palms and fingers.

  “Civvies all tucked in?”

  She nodded. “I think most of them are asleep in their rooms.”

  “Good. They’ve been through a lot.”

  “So have we.”

  “That’s why we’re taking a break.”

  “For how long?”

  Peter shrugged as she capped the tube and split open a sterile gauze pad packet. “Depends, but at least until tomorrow if we can catch any sort of luck.”

  “Have we so far?” Whitley gave him a quick look of wry, tired amusement as she started lightly smearing the ointment across his hands using the pad.

  “My point exactly, we’re due.”

  “Funny guy. That what passed for humor when you were my age?”

  “In my day we didn’t even have running water.”

  “I know, I know.” Whitley shook her head. “Uphill, both ways, in the snow and rain. My dad used to make the same joke.”

  “Damn straight. You kids are all spoiled rotten with your running water and level ground. Don’t know how good you’ve got it.”

  “That’s what we need you for. Perspective.”

  Peter grinned. “Babysitting.”

  “Are we there yet?” She laid the pad aside and picked up a roll of gauze. She started winding it around his hand, covering the abrasions and their layer of ointment. “You should wear gloves until these heal.”

  “Sure you’re not a medic?”

  “Pretty sure. You got any?”

  “Yeah, in my pack. Should’ve been wearing them anyway. I know better.”

  “First thing to go is the mind.”

  Peter laughed. “No, it’s the knees and back.”

  “Not the head?”

  “Not so far. But how would I tell?”

  Whitley shook her head in amusement. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.”

  “Fine, fine wife you’ll be. You already know how to point out shortcomings.”

  “So, we crash here until tomorrow?”