Cash grabbed on. I pulled him out and set him next to me.
His silence was almost too much. He cried, but did not otherwise make a sound. I hated to think about the trauma he felt. I did not forget that he’d just lost his mother and that alone had to affect his mind.
Charlene refused my hand. She climbed up and out on her own. She was traumatized, too. She was hell-bent on showing me that she was independent, and capable of fighting side-by-side, and that she no longer wished to be treated like a child. She’d proved it several times since the outbreak, but I was her father. We didn’t let go of our little girls. Not easily. Not while there was still fight left in us. At least, that was the way I saw it. I wished she didn’t work so hard to show me how traumatized she wasn’t.
We scrambled down off the van. I did not want to run, because it seemed more dangerous. We’d be fully exposed. Shooting had been a challenge as it was, running and shooting sounded impossible.
Pettenski, Spade and Spencer had their knees bent, rifles raised. They encircled us.
I knelt down. “Climb up, sport,” I said.
Cash grabbed onto my neck. He was nine but weighed a ton. Or at least sixty pounds. It felt like a ton, but it didn’t matter, I’d carry him. Couldn’t have him trying to run and keep up. I wasn’t going to lose him or Charlene. They were all that mattered, more now than ever.
“Stay close,” I said. Charlene nodded. The attitude was gone. For now, anyway.
Chapter Three
To say the situation looked hopeless sounded nothing short of melodramatic to an extent. It appeared that way, though. Hopeless. Zombies came at us from nearly every direction. The sound of gunfire attracted them like flies to shit.
Spade took point, working to lead us closer to the bridge. The boy could shoot. No doubt about it. He’d let one rip. Headshot. Pivot one way, headshot. Pivot the other, headshot. If it weren’t such a dire situation, I would have applauded.
Instead, I stayed low and followed. I shifted Cash around on my back, trying to hold him with my arms. It was an awkward angle, mainly because my gun was tucked into the front waistband of my pants. He had his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I felt his breath, quick, shallow and hot on my neck. “How are you doing, buddy?”
“I’m okay, Dad.”
Behind me was Charlene, and behind her, Allison. Dave and Sues stood beside me. Spencer took up the rear, and right side. Pettenski had the rear and left covered.
The idea wasn’t much different from when pioneers crossed the new frontier. When natives attacked, the wagon trains ran in a tight circle. It was an attempt to create a kind of moving and fortified structure. I never studied the era, and westerns were never my style, so I had no idea how it turned out for them. Skilled Native Americans launching arrows at covered wagons. Seemed like the guys at the reins were sitting targets. Literally.
Right now, with three military guys around us, I didn’t feel that safe, or secure.
We weren’t out of bullets, but I couldn’t help worry there were more zombies than ammo. Hand-to-hand combat seemed like a terrible idea. I was ahead of myself, I know. We weren’t there, yet. Not yet that far gone.
“Keep moving, keep moving,” Spencer said. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t know who he thought had stopped and looked back, because our group was walking. Everyone pushed forward. Spencer might just be barking out orders for the sake of yelling. We didn’t need the added tension.
Spade ejected a clip, dropped it, slapped in a new one and went right back to firing off shot after shot without missing a single beat, or skull. We continually had to step over and walk around the wake of proof. If there was still a government in place at the end of all of this, I planned to nominate the guy for whatever awards were available.
“Dad,” Cash said.
“Yeah, buddy? What?” I said. Now was not the best time to talk.
“They’re getting closer,” he said.
“We’re okay,” Charlene said. She spoke to her brother the way her mother might have--her voice calm, soothing. I knew she was just as scared as Cash, and as I was. Her insides had to be as shaky as mine felt. I didn’t catch a trace of any of that in her tone of voice.
“We just keep walking, Cash. We stay close. We keep walking,” I said. I smelled something burning. Nearby something had to be on fire. The sky was blue. I did not see any pillars of black smoke rising. There was no mistaking the combined odor of old clapboard, wires, carpeting, clothing, upholstery and flesh.
Cash had been right, though. As good a shot as Spade was, as much as we were able to keep moving forward, there seemed an endless stream of monsters converging. Simply an endless wave of them.
It felt hard not to run. Running seemed more natural. If we ran, there would be no way to stay in a tight group; no way for the encircling protection to work as well as it had been. Fighting the urge to sprint took willpower.
“Something’s on fire,” Dave said.
“I smell that,” Sues said. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”
“It’s behind us,” Spencer said. “A house or something. Forget about it. We’re going the opposite way. Keep moving.”
“I’m out,” Spade said. “Out.”
My heart and stomach swapped spots. I think my knees wobbled some. “Now what?”
“Me, too,” Pettenski said.
Spencer nodded. “We’re going to run. Launch grenades there, and there. And there.”
Spencer pointed to the front, left and right. At angles.
Spade threw the first grenade. It landed toward Lake Avenue, at the largest group of gathered zombies. Limbs flew when it exploded.
There was little time to take in the horror. We were running. I kept my arms behind me, holding onto Cash. Charlene and Allison were on either side.
More grenades detonated around us, the soldiers pulled pins and tossed more and more as we ran. It was an effective way to take out large numbers of zombies at once. But not all of them. Not nearly enough of them,
Over all, it did seem to be working. “Dave,” I said.
“We’re right behind you,” he said.
That was what I wanted to hear. We came to the Lake Avenue intersection. The O’Rourke Bridge was dead ahead.
“Fast zombies, sir,” Spade said. “I’ve got one left.”
“Pettenski?” Spencer said.
“One.”
We ran. They talked. Spencer used his radio. “Sergeant Vitale? Sergeant? This is Corporal Spencer.”
I just noticed the pod in his ear. I wasn’t going to be able to hear the second half of the conversation. I did not know where Spade spotted the zombies. Must be behind us, but I couldn’t look back, because I would trip. Cash and I would go down. I needed to pay attention to my footing--on reaching our destination.
The one thing that looked a little promising was that the bridge finally appeared clear.
“Throw them,” Spencer said.
I did not see where the last two grenades were launched, but I heard them explode. It was behind us.
“We’re out,” Spade said.
I ran as fast, and as hard as I could. Felt the burning in my lungs. Muscles around my stomach tightened. Squeezed. I wouldn’t be able to keep it up. Adrenaline only lasted so long. We’d been at it awhile, and I felt drained.
“Keep running, Daddy,” Cash said. I wondered if he heard my thoughts, or read my mind.
“We’re not stopping, not until we’re somewhere safe.”
Spencer said, “Pettenski! Pettenski, get back here!”
“Sir,” Spade said.
“No, we keep running.”
I had to look. I did not like being blind.
Pettenski had stopped on the bridge. He held a long knife in each hand. He was going to take them on alone. With knives.
“I can’t let him do this alone,” Spade said.
“We have orders. We need to get the civilians to the Coast Guard. You know that, Private First Class! Pettenski is buying us time to complete this mission. You will stay with us!” Spencer sounded as winded as I felt.