Category: Monday Fiction

Tampa Florida, 15 September 2010, 1630 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez watched as his five-year-old daughter was lifted into the backseat of the silver SUV. Mateo buried all of his heartbreak as he waved back at the smiling Mercedes. The two of them enjoyed a very busy day at Busch Gardens, the biggest theme park this side of Orlando. The little girl was still clutching the stuffed animal Mateo bought for her. This was the last time he would see his daughter for some time. Christina, his ex-wife’s sister, almost slammed the car door while scowling at Mateo. He did his best to ignore the woman. She looked too much like Maria when she scowled.

"When will we get the money?" asked the impatient man Mateo had been ignoring for the last few minutes. Tim, Christina’s husband, was an annoying, pathetic jerk of a man. With a pinched, weasel-like face, balding head, and over-priced mall clothes, Tim looked more like a middle manager than an attorney.

"The funds will be transferred to the account set up by the trust company," answered Robyn Adams as she approached the two men. She pulled a manila envelope from her purse and shoved it into Tim’s hands. "The trustee will call you and set up a meeting. She will explain how to submit child care expenses for reimbursement."

"That’s not what the judge ordered," Tim protested.

"The judge required Mr. Cortez to provide for his daughter and place the full extent of his ex-wife’s estate to that end," Robyn shot back, "If you bother to check the paperwork I’ve just handed to you, you will see the judge has already signed off on the arrangement." Tim tried to stare Robyn down. Against the tall beauty, he had no chance. Without another word, Tim stormed back to the waiting car.

"What are you doing here?" Mateo asked Robyn.

"You disappeared after the hearing yesterday," Robyn answered. There was something odd in her voice. Over the past couple of months, Robyn worked closely with Mateo, both in her role as MacKenzie & Winston’s liaison with the Zombie Strike team, and in helping Mateo with the custody battle over his daughter. Mateo finally managed to get over his normal nervousness around attractive women and be able to talk normally with Robyn. He owed her that much.

"I was worried when you didn’t show back up at the hotel," Robyn said. Mateo’s nervousness surged back as her blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the afternoon sun. "Yesterday didn’t go as well as I hoped."

"Sorry, I should have called," Mateo said, "I visited Maria’s grave and then just kind of drove all night." Robyn smiled, and Mateo looked down at his watch. Damn it, he could face off hundreds of zombies. What about this woman made him so uneasy? Even Maria didn’t do that to him.

"We should head back to the hotel and get packed," Mateo said, "We’ve got a late flight to catch." He started to walk towards Robyn’s rental. She stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"No need to hurry, I’ve rescheduled the flight until tomorrow," Robyn said, with a devious smile on her face. "I believe you owe me a tour of this little city of yours." Mateo’s nervousness vanished as he led her back to the car.

Skull Island, South Pacific, 15 September 2010, 1630 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 16 days

Chief Warrant Officer Stahl, recently retired from the US Army, was getting used to his new home. He’d been surprised by the job offer from Mateo. He talked it over with Col. Allen, the commander of the U.S. anti-zombie task force. Stahl had literally grown up in the Army. His father and grandfather had both risen to master sergeant in this man’s Army. Stahl expected Allen to chew him out for even thinking of leaving. Instead, the colonel encouraged the move. The old soldier expected the battle between Zombie Strike and the Truth cult to heat up after the Battle of Rosca. The ZS team needed experienced soldiers, and the colonel needed someone he trusted on the team.

Stahl had taken to regularly walking the perimeter of the Zombie Strike compound. The old hotel and surrounding buildings had been nearly destroyed during the battle between the Great Horde and the Army. A new complex was rising up from its ashes. This one was built more like a modernized castle, complete with moat, drawbridge, and high surrounding wall. At the center was a fifteen-hundred-foot metal spire. Until the constellation of communications satellites was replaced, radio was once again based on atmospherics and radio towers. That tower could communicate with almost anything in the Pacific, including M&W’s office in Sydney.

As Stahl came onto the new firing range, he could see the girl firing a bench-rested SCAR. Stahl had put away his concerns about women in combat after his LRRP team was sent in to rescue a convoy caught by insurgents outside of Baghdad on the Tampa road. The women soldiers on the convoy proved themselves that day. This girl, Jess, proved herself numerous times, according to the rest of the team. The huge wolf that followed her around was curled up at her feet, ignoring the noise. There was something odd about that animal.

"Nice groups," Stahl observed as he stood behind Jess. She fired two more rounds before standing up and facing him. Even coated in sweat and cordite, Jess looked better than she had in weeks. She still wasn’t smiling much. The neurotoxin the Truth’s monster hit her with did some pretty severe damage to her mind. She’d only returned from some intensive psychiatric care two days ago.

"Thanks Chief," she said her voice almost normal.

"Listen, I know you just got back, but the team is going to be doing some field exercises. I think it might be good for you to come along." Jess turned back and picked up the rifle.

"I don’t know," she answered. "I think it may be time for me to quit this."

"Why?" Stahl asked.

"Because, it seems like every time I go out there, someone dies," Jess said.

"And you think you’re the reason," Chief Stahl replied.

"You think I’m foolish, don’t you?" Jess asked her blue eyes boring into the Chief.

"Nope. I think you’re in the middle of a nasty war," Stahl answered, "I think you just got hit with an evil weapon that terrified you. And it isn’t going to get any easier."

"So you think I should quit?" Jess demanded.

"Nope. I think you should want to murder them that did all of this to you," Chief Stahl said, "I can show you how." Jess looked warily at the former soldier and nodded.

Keflavik, Iceland, 15 September 2010, 1630 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 16 days

Castle strode into the safehouse’s kitchen. He stared at the man busily stirring a pot of that American travesty, chili. The man didn’t seem to notice or care that the leader of the Truth and the Flayed One’s own chosen was impatiently tapping his leather shoe on the linoleum.

"I see you’ve finally recovered," Castle finally said, breaking the silence.

"Pretty much," Alan said, ladling up a bowl of the horrid stuff. "I see you finally had time to come and see me." Castle hated the American’s flippant attitude. If he didn’t need Alan’s incredible skill with the mystic power, Castle would have rid himself of the sorcerer months ago.

"Some of us have better things to do than nearly get themselves killed in a project that they had no business in," Castle answered. "You were supposed to be working on the Key."

"I needed to go to the nursery," Alan said flatly.

"Why?" Castle asked.

"One of the nasty side effects of spending so much time working with magical forces is that sometimes it lets you peek into the future. Sometimes just enough to drive you insane, or sometimes just enough to act."

"What does that have to do with you being in Rosca instead of Barcelona working on the Key?" Castle demanded. Alan set down the bowl of chili and motioned for Castle to follow him. Alan walked down the stairs into the safehouse’s cellar. It was cold, barely above the freezing outside temperature. In the center of the dark cellar was a crystal cage. Castle saw the man inside huddled under the blanket and gave Alan a quizzical look.

"I didn’t go to Rosca to stop Zombie Strike from destroying the nursery," Alan said. "I was fulfilling the prophecies surrounding the Flayed One’s return." The man in the cage turned towards the two. Castle’s eyes widened as he recognized the man.

"I found the Betrayer," Alan said, motioning to Collin DuBois, "I’m just keeping him safe until it’s time for him to kill Mateo Cortez."

Zombie Strike Part 7 Chapter 65

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0320 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez watched as the monster slid on its snake-like body out into the corridor. That was the only part of the monster that was even remotely recognizable. Above the snake was a mass of gray flesh crisscrossed with pulsing vessels. Four appendages sprouted irregularly from the torso. Two ended in three finger hands while the other two were more like tentacles. And the eyes. Unblinking human-like eyes of different colors were dotted across the front of the creature. It was the closest thing Mateo had ever seen to the horrors that Lovecraft described.

One of the monster’s tentacles shot out at Mateo. He sidestepped, but he wasn’t fast enough. The tentacle ripped across his bracer and tore the PDA off. Mateo winced. It felt as if he’d just blocked a fast ball with his forearm. The other tentacle punched his chest plate. Mateo fell back as the wind was pushed out of his lungs. He gulped air trying to get his breath back. Before he could get back up, Jim stood over him. The tall cowboy fired his Big Horn .500 as fast as he could into the monster. The booms came fast and furious. It sounded like Jim was firing a machine gun instead of a lever action rifle. The bullets tore ragged holes in the monster. Thick, black fluid spurted out. A noxious odor filled the corridor. The monster made no sound. It whipped one of its tentacles across Jim’s face. The cowboy dropped to the concrete floor and didn’t move.

Mateo raised his M4 and emptied the magazine in one long burst across the front of the creature. It flinched back as a line of black ooze billowed up from Mateo’s burst. Mateo quickly jumped to his feet. He could hear the others firing, but after the concussive blasts from Jim’s big rifle, they sounded far off. It took Mateo a moment to realize they weren’t firing at the creature in front of him. He needed to see what was happening behind him, but Mateo didn’t dare turn away from the monster. Not until it was dead. Both tentacles shot out at him. He ducked the first one, but the second wrapped around his M4. More from instinct than tactical knowledge, Mateo let go of his carbine and drew his pistol. The tentacle yanked on the M4. Connected by the weapon’s sling, Mateo was jerked off of his feet and flew towards the monster. He lined up the Sig’s sights on one of big holes from Jim’s rifle. Mateo squeezed the trigger. The pistol roared once, twice, and kept on firing until the slide locked back on an empty magazine. The tentacle quit pulling on the M4. Mateo fell to the concrete floor. He felt his shoulder dislocate as it took the brunt of the fall. As Mateo changed the magazine on his carbine as fast as he could one-handed. Another thing Collin drilled into him over the past few months. The monster’s left side didn’t seem to be working. The tentacle and hand on that half of its torso hung limply. All of the haunting eyes were fully dilated, to the point they were almost completely black. The other tentacle and arm swung wildly. Mateo aimed the carbine at another hole. His shoulder screamed in pain. Blinking back tears, Mateo fired a two second burst into the hole. The other two appendages froze in mid-swing. The creature slid back into the doorway it had emerged from.

Mateo wanted to sink down to the floor and wait for Tredegar to come and fix him. He didn’t have that luxury. Letting the M4 hang on its sling, Mateo turned to see what the rest of his team was fighting. Quentin, Sport, and Tredegar were fighting a five-foot tall humanoid creature. Humanoid in as much as it had two arms with hands and two legs. It had no head. Two red eyes the size of saucers blinked from the shoulders. A mouth of dagger-sharp teeth snarled from the creature’s midsection. Mateo watched as Sport poured an entire magazine from his MP5/10 into the monster. The bullets didn’t even puncture the thick leathery hide. Billy was facing off with what looked like a red leather saber tooth tiger. Jess was still balled up on the floor.

Billy could probably handle his enemy. Mateo wasn’t exactly sure what Billy’s limits were, but he was pretty sure the pup wasn’t going to hit them facing off with the monster. The others needed his help. Mateo strode over to them, his shoulder protesting every movement. The headless monster jabbed at Sport with a meaty fist. The Brit nearly tripped over his legs as he scrambled back from the punch. Quentin saw an opening and clubbed the creature in its mouth with his warhammer. Two of the teeth broke. A booming scream of pain filled the corridor. Tredegar uselessly fired his M4 at the creature.

"Sport, can you pitch a grenade into its mouth?" Mateo asked.

"Are you bloody insane?" Sport said, "The blast will kill us all."

"We’re going to die if we don’t kill this thing," Mateo countered. Sport clearly didn’t like either option, but he plucked a concussion grenade off his chest. Sport fell into a pitching stance and froze. A few seconds passed as Mateo, Quentin, and Tredegar placed shots at the monster’s huge eyes. The bullets didn’t puncture the eyes, but they did hurt the monster. It roared in anguish. Sport hurled the grenade into the monster’s open mouth. The maw clamped shut as the grenade slammed into the back. There was a muffled thunderclap an instant before the team was coated in sticky pieces of monster. Tredegar and Sport both bent over and vomited. Mateo turned to face the last monster. It was already over. Billy had the monster on its back. Fleshy bits were strewn around the spirit wolf. The wolf’s pure white pelt wasn’t even dotted with blood or gore. Billy leapt back over to Jess. He stood protectively over the girl’s still form.

"Well that was disappointing," Alan said from behind his invisible shield. Mateo stormed to the edge of the shield. Alan met Mateo’s glare and shivered involuntarily. There were reasons Mateo was the leader of Zombie Strike.

"Lower this shield, give us Collin, and I’ll let you live," Mateo said in a tight, controlled voice.

"I don’t think so," Alan said.

"The rest of my men will have cleared out your few remaining cultists upstairs and probably have the horde you made out of the townspeople under control," Mateo told Alan, "We’ve beaten back everything you could throw at us. We can wait you out." Alan cocked his head like he was listening to an earpiece.

"Right now, the rest of your team is holed up at the edge of town with the zombies surrounding them. I will give those Army boys some credit. They did manage to wipe out the Truth’s forces here before the horde pushed them back into that little store." Alan looked sincerely impressed.

"I can hold this shield up as long as I need to," Alan continued, "Which is about three hours. After that, Mikhail and his elite forces will port into the facility and take all of you. So, why don’t you make yourselves comfortable and just wait for the inevitable? I’m sure that medic of yours could patch up that shoulder. It must hurt something fierce." Mateo snarled incoherently at Alan. The sorcerer laughed.

Mateo hit the floor as the sound of gun shots boomed through the corridor. Alan collapsed to the floor. Behind him, Mateo saw Collin’s outstretched arm fall limply back to his side. The Glock clattered across the concrete floor. The man looked utterly exhausted. He must have expended the very last bit of his energy to shoot Alan in the back. Mateo got up off the floor and walked towards Collin. Pain and purple light sparked across him. The shield was still up.

"Go Mattie," Collin said breathlessly, "I don’t know how long that shield is going to be up."

"You know what’s going to happen if we leave?" Mateo asked.

"Better this way," Collin said. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two men. "One other thing Mattie."

"Yeah?"

"Get that warrant officer on the team," Collin said, "You’ll need him." Mateo nodded. He already decided to make the offer to Stahl. Collin’s request gave Mateo a boost of confidence. Mateo turned away from Collin, unable to say good-bye to the man. His emotions were still too conflicted. The team didn’t say anything as they collected Jim and Jess and hustled up the steps. Mateo looked back at Collin just before he climbed the steps. Collin simply nodded. Outside the town center, corpses littered the plaza. Mateo could hear the gunfire coming from where the rest of his team fought the zombies.

"Stahl, this is Cortez," Mateo said over the radio, "Can you be extracted?"

"Yeah," came the clipped reply, "We’re on the roof right now."

"I’m calling Blackout," Mateo told the warrant officer.

"We’ll be ready." Mateo switched frequencies on his radio. His team had overheard his half of the conversation. They were already getting prepared.

"Blackout. I say again, Blackout," Mateo said into the radio.

"Confirmed. Blackout," a neutral voice replied. Mateo signaled to Sport. The man cracked two large chemlights. No visible light came from the two sticks, but they would glow brilliantly in the infrared goggles of the helicopter pilots. Ten minutes later, the night was turned to day by the brilliant halogens from a hovering helicopter. Three black-clad soldiers rappelled down. In less than two minutes, the entire team was secured in the cargo bay. Mateo saw a similar helicopter hovering above where the Stahl’s team was fighting. He closed his eyes as the helicopter roared seaward.

Fifteen minutes after the two teams were extracted, the C-17 Globemaster loitering over the town opened its cargo doors. Two GBU-43 MOAB’s opened their drag chutes and were pulled out of the cargo bay. The designers joked that MOAB mean "Mother Of All Bombs" with good reason. These were the most powerful non-nuclear bombs that the American military had in its inventory. The first bomb dropped quickly and detonated about five hundred feet above the town. Everything standing was obliterated. Then the second bomb pounded into where the town center once stood. It penetrated down into the base’s lower level and exploded.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 64 – Epilogue

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0310 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez scowled as Alan emerged into the hallway. The tall sorcerer’s dark robes stood out against the concrete gray of the walls and floor. He looked surprised and amused to see the Zombie Strike team. Alan was holding a bloody knife in one hand. With the other he was dragging the rigid form of Collin DuBois. Mateo couldn’t tell if Collin was alive or dead.

Jim stepped to Mateo’s side, his Big Horn lever action at his shoulder. The hallway rocked with the rifle’s booming report. Red splattered the sterile gray wall as Alan spun and fell to the ground. Mateo shook his head, trying to clear the concussive effects of the big gun. He spun to reprimand the big cowboy. Jim had good reason to want Alan dead, but that didn’t give him a reason to deafen the team. Mate froze as Alan stood back up. The smiling face was gone. Alan looked annoyed.

"Nathan, that’s twice you’ve shot me," Alan said, calling Jim by his old name. Alan’s voice sounded tinny to Mateo’s recovering ears. Jim didn’t say anything. The cowboy just casually worked the lever action and brought the weapon back up. Alan sniffed at the weapon pointed at him.

"Don’t bother, I’ve already invoked a protection spell," Alan said. To demonstrate, he waved his knife in front of him. Purple energy sparked in the air. Mateo waved his team down. No sense in wasting ammunition.

"I told you to stay away from these people Nathan," Alan said pointing his knife at the team. "You had the chance to be spared their fate!"

"You really expect me to believe you? Or stand aside if I did?" Jim asked in response.

"I suppose not. I guess I owe Mikhail five euros." Mateo’s ears perked up. Mikhail, better known as Giant to Zombie Strike, had been the leader of the Truth’s so-called Champions. Zombie Strike still called them minions.

"So he didn’t die in Mexico City. That’s annoying," Mateo said, trying to keep his voice even and casual.

"You didn’t think something like that would have killed him?" Alan asked, sounding a bit surprised, "Haven’t you figured it out? He is more than just a Champion; he’s the Chosen of Xipe-Totec. The man is immortal." Alan made it sound like this was common knowledge.

"I’ve seen him bleed. I’ve seen him hurt. If I can hurt him and bleed him, I can kill him," Mateo said.

"You would need that attitude," Alan said, musingly. The sorcerer fell silent. Mateo wasn’t sure what to do. Alan had them dead to rights. With that magic knife, Alan could unleash a blast that could incinerate all of them before they could move. They couldn’t do anything against that shield. So what was the sorcerer waiting for?

Billy growled. The sound caught Mateo off-guard. He was turning to look at what Billy was growling at when Jess let loose a string of curses. Mateo heard the quiet pop of her SCAR. At the sound of gunfire, the team moved to face the new threat. Mateo whirled to see the alien-looking creature as it stepped off the stairs. He’d lost track of it during the fight with zombies. He hoped it wasn’t a fatal mistake. Jess kept firing, her hits ranging from center mass to head shots. The creature just absorbed the gunshots. Thick, black fluid oozed out of the bullet holes. If it felt pain, it didn’t show it. The creature lashed out, using its long arms like whips. One arm slashed across Jess’s body. Her SCAR clattered on the concrete floor as she shrunk back to a kneeling position, whimpering in pain.

The creature’s other arm lanced out at Quentin. The big man casually batted the green-wrapped appendage with his warhammer. As big as Quentin was, Mateo sometimes forgot how fast he could move. Quentin charged the creature. He thrust his hammer into the creature’s midsection. It swayed with the blow. Quentin didn’t wait for it to spring back. His arm drove the hammer down into the creature’s foot. The creature let out its unearthly screech. Quentin shoved the creature to the ground. With ruthless determination, Quentin hammered each joint starting from the ankles up. The creature couldn’t even muster a defense. It just writhed on the floor. With each wet crunch of the hammer finding a new mark, the creature screeched in pain. After both shoulders were destroyed, the screeching took on a new tone. It almost sounded as if the creature was crying. Mateo walked up and laid his hand on Quentin. The big man stopped.

"Finish it," Mateo said. Quentin just nodded and brought the hammer down on the creature’s head. The disturbing sounds stopped. Mateo crouched down next to his foster daughter. She was clutching Billy as if the wolf was a life preserver. He tried to coax her into looking at him, but she just flinched from his touch and gripped Billy tighter.

"What did that thing do to her?" Mateo demanded from Alan. The sorcerer had propped Collin’s still form against a wall and was sitting cross-legged on the ground.

"I really should have considered that you might use that kind of blunt force trauma on Albert," Alan said, focusing on the still form of the creature. Mateo slammed the shield with the butt of his M4. Brilliant purple sparks of energy cascaded in the air where the gun hit the shield. A startled Alan looked up at Mateo.

"What in the Flayed One’s name do you think you’re doing?" Alan asked, scooting back a few feet.

"What did you do to my daughter?" Mateo asked again, his voice tight with rage.

"Oh that. Enhanced neurotoxin. She’s feeling all of her emotional trauma for the last year or so all at once. From her reaction, I’d say she has had a rough year. I’m going to have to remember that." Alan looked absolutely pleased with himself. Mateo could only stare at the sorcerer in shock. Alan looked past Mateo.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Alan said to Tredegar. The FBI agent was standing over Jess with an injector in hand. "The toxin reacts poorly to sedatives. It’ll set off every pain sensor in the body."

"You’re a monster," Tredegar said, putting away the injector.

"Actually, I’m not. I’m a faithful and powerful servant of the Flayed One," Alan said. "Those are monsters." He produced an alarm fob from under his robes. With a press of a button, the other doors in the corridor slid open. The team fell back to surround Jess in a circle of firepower. Billy growled. As Alan giggled, something out of Mateo’s nightmares slid out of one of the doors.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 63

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0245 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez took a step back as a zombie grabbed at him. It was too close. Mateo let his M4 fall on its sling and drew his pistol. The Sig 250 barked twice and the zombie fell back. Mateo slid back another few steps as more zombies lunged from the broken kiosk. Mateo took down the first two with double-taps. The third grabbed Mateo’s pistol. Mateo let go of the pistol. He hated close quarters with zombies. Mateo yanked his fighting knife and jabbed it through the zombie’s eye. Mateo jerked the blade out. The last zombie pushed Mateo to the ground. Mateo rolled, trying to bring up his M4. The zombie lunged down.

Billy slammed into the zombie. With one savage snap, the spirit wolf crushed the zombie’s head. Mateo rose to his feet as Jess ran up to her foster father. She took another half-dozen zombies down with a series of shots. Mateo took a second to survey the plaza. His team was fighting the two hundred zombies that attacked from the kiosks and the fountain. From the echoing sounds of hunting moans, hundreds more were boring down on them.

"Jim, you and Sport fall back to the town center," Mateo ordered. The tall cowboy slammed the butt of his rifle into a fountain zombie and nodded. "Quentin, Tredegar, get over here!" The team’s close-quarters specialist had his warhammer out and in action. A pile of crushed undead laid at his feet. Quentin decapitated two more zombies with a lighting pair of strikes before retreating back towards the team leader. Tredegar followed the big man eagerly. He still looked in shock at the sheer number of the undead. At least he was firing his weapon.

Mateo needed to get his team together where they could hold out against the zombies. The only place to make a stand looked like the town center – the building his team was supposed to be assaulting. Well, the worse that would happen is his team would get pinned between Truth cultists and a horde of zombies. They’d been in worse spots before. As soon as Jim and Sport were at the front of the building, Mateo ordered the retreat. The four humans and one spirit wolf sprinted to the door. The zombies, sensing their prey escaping, let out a chorus of hunting moans and shambled as fast as they could. The horde grew as smaller groups of zombies joined the pursuit. By the time the team joined up at the front of the town center, the horde easily numbered over three hundred – and that was just the first wave. There wasn’t time to dally. Mateo looked over the door quickly. It was a large steel double door maybe ten feet high by six feet wide. The door lock was a key card type, like the hotels used. Probably too strong for Quentin to knock open. That left one other option.

"Sport, blow the door," Mateo ordered. The Brit nodded and trotted over to the door.

"Wait," Tredegar said as he fumbled through one of his bags. He pulled out what looked like a credit card. "Try this." Sport looked over at Mateo. The team leader nodded. Sport slipped the card into the lock. The metallic click was audible over the ragged chorus of hunting moans. Mateo quickly signaled for Jim and Quentin to clear the entryway. As Sport opened the right door, Jim and Quentin charged through with guns up.

"Where did you get that key?" Mateo asked Tredegar as they waited for the clear signal.

"I found it on one of the guys we killed earlier," Tredegar answered, referring to the firefight when the team entered the town. "It looked kind of important." Mateo nodded. This was why he’d brought Tredegar along. The man was almost psychic when it came to intelligence.

"Fair enough," Mateo said.

"We’re clear Matt," Quentin said over the radio. Mateo hand signaled for the rest of the team to get into the building. Mateo waited until his team was in before he trotted inside. As soon as Mateo was in, Sport slammed the door shut. Mateo was glad they didn’t need to blow the door. Now, he only needed to worry about the cultists in the building. Getting back out might be interesting, but he’d worry about that later. Worse came to worse, they’d Saigon off the roof of the town center.

The room was pitch black. There wasn’t enough ambient light for the nightvision to work. Mateo turned on his weapon light. The rest of the team followed suit. The lobby of the town center looked more like a bank than a town hall. A row of teller windows was opposite of the front door. There was some kind of work space behind the teller windows. On either side were conference rooms. The team had already cleared those. To the right of the teller windows was a door with a sign in Italian. Mateo didn’t know Italian, but his Spanish worked well enough to get a rough translation. "Village Offices." Or something close to that.

"That way," Mateo said, pointing at the door. Quentin tried the handle. Locked. Quentin hit it with his hammer. The door slammed open. Two cultists in badly fitted tactical gear squinted as the white beams of high powered lights hit them.

"Alive," Mateo growled. Jim stepped into the door and slammed his rifle butt into the right cultist’s face. The man went down without a sound. Quentin’s hammer connected with the other cultist’s knee in a wet crunch. The man screamed in pain. Mateo scowled as Quentin clamped his massive hand over the man’s mouth. The screaming went to a muted noise. Tredegar knelt next to the man and injected him with a pain-killer.

"What are you doing?" Mateo demanded.

"Wait," Tredegar said, holding a finger up. Mateo bit down his angry retort. Tredegar was a professional. Mateo had to trust him to know what he was doing. The screaming lessened as the drug took effect. Tredegar waited for several long moments. Then, Tredegar talked to the cultist in a language Mateo didn’t know. It sounded similar to Spanish. The cultist replied in slurred Italian. The two exchanged a few quick bursts of unintelligible speech. Finally, the cultist leaned back and went still.

"There’s a stairwell at the back," Tredegar said, "It’s normally guarded, but most of the guards left to deal with Collin’s team. He didn’t know how many more Truth members were down there, but it should be support staff and leadership. Just the people we’re here to apprehend."

"Thank you Edgar," Mateo said, and then looked over at Sport. The Brit walked over to the resting cultist, drew his pistol, and placed two rounds into the man. Tredegar let out a strangled cry.

"We’re not here to bloody apprehend these people," Sport said, "We’re here to wipe out this base and every member of the Truth on this island." He casually holstered his weapon and stepped back. Tredegar looked pleadingly over to Mateo.

"Sport’s right, Tredegar," Mateo said in a low voice, "If we can capture any of the high rankers for you without undue risk, we will. Otherwise, anyone who willingly joined the Truth will not leave this island alive." Tredegar looked to the others in the team. Only Quentin looked disturbed by Sport’s actions, but he didn’t say anything. Defeated, Tredegar didn’t say anything further. The team crept down the hallway. As they approached the stairwell, light began to filter up from the lower level. The team slinked down the stairs with weapons up.

The lower level was brightly lit with rows of fluorescent lights running the length of the ceiling. As the team came out of the stairwell, they were in a corridor some fifty feet in length. At the end of the corridor was some kind of arch. Shadows hid what was under the arch. The floors and walls were unpainted concrete. There were three evenly spaced, metal doors on either side of the corridor. Mateo motioned the team forward. They had gone only a few yards when a wave of power swept the hallway. Mateo hated the nauseating feeling. A familiar voice echoed through the corridor.

"Seriously Collin, you should be thanking me right now," Alan said as he exited the arch dragging a wounded Collin behind him. The tall sorcerer for the Truth stopped as he saw the weapons of Mateo’s team leveled at him. He was surprised by the team’s appearance, but showed no sign of fear. A devious smile spread across Alan’s face.

"Oh good, I don’t have to go looking for you."

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 62

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0215 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Collin DuBois always wondered how he was going to die. Getting his head lopped off by the obsidian axe bearing down on him wasn’t one of his preferred choices. Now, if he could just get his body to cooperate and stop the blade. Collin strained to bring up his M4 in front of the axe blade. The blow landed with all the force of a cannon. Collin felt bones crack along his body as he was driven into the pavement. Collin screamed with agony.

Collin’s cry of pain was drowned out by the gollum’s roar of frustration. The monster was not happy it didn’t bury its axe deep into Collin’s chest. Collin gritted back the pain. He wasn’t stunned anymore, but the pain brought a fog all of its own. The gollum swung down again. Collin could hear the blade as it whistled through the still night air. Collin deflected the blow with his battered M4. He felt the shock of blow as it painfully traveled down the length of his body. Collin heard the grinding sound of the obsidian blade sliding across the street’s cobblestones. The gollum roared again. Collin wasn’t sure if he could fend off another blow.

"YEEHAW!" hollered The Steve as he barreled into the gollum. The medic wasn’t a big man, but he had two things going for him – the added mass of his battle rattle and an impressive sprinting speed. The collision knocked the unprepared gollum off of its feet. The Steve didn’t take a moment to gloat. He grabbed Collin and dragged him away from the monster. Collin finally got a look at the creature. Normal gollums were barely five feet tall with tar black skin pulled tightly over a wiry frame anointed with runes in blue body paint. This creature had the same tight black skin, but it was easily seven feet tall with a massive frame. It sort of reminded Collin of his teammate Quentin. Except for the bright red runes painted across its body, and that it was snarling like a rabid dog.

"Where’s its bloody medallion?" Slim asked as he stood next to The Steve. The stone medallion was a gollum’s weakness. Until it was removed or destroyed, the creatures were essentially invulnerable. The medallion was usually worn about the neck on a leather cord. This gollum wasn’t wearing one. Collin watched as the gollum took one plodding step towards the zombie hunter, and then another.

"Shoot it," Collin ordered. Slim didn’t hesitate. He’d switched from his SR-25 sniper rifle to a tiny pump shotgun. The thing only held four rounds, and Slim made each one count. The creature’s torso erupted in geysers of flesh, bone, and fluid as the dozens of double-ought buckshot tore into it. The creature let out a stifled scream before collapsing to the street. Thick, black fluid oozed out of the dozens of holes. Collin barely kept from gagging from its noxious odor.

"That wasn’t a gollum," Slim said. His eyes were fixed on the corpse as he reloaded.

"Yes, but I have no idea what it was," Collin said, "Steve, I’m in a bit of agony. Could you remedy that?"

"The Steve, dude," the medic corrected as he fished out an injector, "The Steve’s patented Happy Juice." With a small flourish, The Steve slapped the injector into Collin’s arm. "The Steve wonders if you are good to go."

"Give me a minute for the pain-killers to take effect, and I’ll be golden," Collin said. The Steve jabbed a finger into Collin’s side. Pain flared and Collin let out a groan.

"Dude, give him your scattergun," The Steve said to Slim. The tall Brit grimaced, but handed Collin the diminutive twelve-gauge. The Steve dragged Collin to the side of a building.

"The Steve and Slim are going to finish this," The Steve told Collin. "You are going to sit here and try not to get killed. The Steve will check back with you afterwards." Collin wanted to protest, but he was still too much of a professional.

"At least give me my carbine," Collin growled in resignation.

"Dude, that thing nearly broke your gun in half," The Steve said, "Never seen a receiver bent like that." The medic gave Collin a quick once over and trotted towards Slim. The two zombie hunters raced down the street. Collin leaned back against the stone wall. He could hear the distinctive bark of Slim’s rifle. The enemy’s machine gun stopped. They might still have a chance of wiping the enemy militia. Or at least dealing it a significant blow.

The drugs started to take effect. The pain-killers reduced the pain to a bearable level as the stimulants cleared away the remaining fog. Collin wanted to get back into the fight, but he waited patiently for The Steve to return. Collin knew he was badly banged up. The pain-killers masked the extent of the damage. If Collin pushed himself to operate normally, he could easily destroy himself. He’d seen more than one fellow SAS do just that. Collin heard a rustling in the alley next to him. He started to roll but a hand shot out of the alley and stopped him. At the touch, Collin felt his body lock up. The shotgun clattered to the ground as it slipped from his hands. A tall, thin man in dark robes emerged from the alley. He looked familiar, but Collin couldn’t place the face. The man knelt down next to Collin and smiled. It was hauntingly eerie in the green tones of nightvision.

"Collin, what are you doing here?" the man asked, feigning concern. As soon as Collin heard the voice, the man’s identity clicked in Collin’s mind. Alan. The American was one of the Truth’s so-called sorcerers. This was the man who kidnapped and twisted Jim’s daughter. Collin struggled against the paralysis. He needed to get to his gun – or even his knife.

"Don’t bother, the spell will last for at least the next hour or so," Alan said as he watched Collin’s face contort with effort. Alan’s smirk vanished when he saw the unmoving gollum. There was a flash of anger that melted into an expression of annoyance.

"I see you managed to kill off George," Alan said, his voice tight.

"You gave that monstrosity a name?" Collin asked. He needed to hold Alan’s attention long enough for the others to return.

"Don’t you name your pets?" Alan asked in response. Without another word, Alan drew a large, crude knife from under his robes. Collin’s eyes locked on the blade. He’d seen Alan use that knife to unleash blasts of energy that killed dozens of soldiers.

"Oh don’t worry Collin. I’m not going to kill you," Alan said. He lifted up Collin’s hand and slashed across the palm. Pain flashed through Collin as blood welled up from the cut.

"Useful little blade. Shame it needs human blood to activate," Alan said as he looked at the blood-streaked knife. "Time for us to go back to the nursery." Alan touched the knife to a shadow. The blade slipped into the shadow. Alan grabbed Collin and dragged him through the portal.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 61

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0215 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez squeezed the trigger twice. The zombie’s head shattered as the hammer pair tore through it. Sport and Quentin advanced out of their building with weapons up. Two bursts took down two of the rising zombies. Jess took another one down from her perch. Sport cleared the last two with a pair of short bursts. Tredegar stood paralyzed for a moment as the gunfire surrounded him. The gangly FBI agent swallowed hard as the gunfire ceased. Tredegar, like every member of the Zombie Strike team, was one of those few humans who didn’t panic at the mere sight of the undead. That didn’t mean he did well in a gunfight.

"Edgar, go check the bodies for intel. You have less than four minutes now," Mateo said. Tredegar nodded and hustled into the ruins of the café. Mateo motioned for the team to close up. The experienced zombie hunters moved quietly outside the café.

"Those buckos rose back up bloody quick," Sport said as he kept watch towards the center of the town.

"Makes you wonder what the other team’s going through," Quentin said. Jim grunted in agreement as the sounds of gunfire drifted through the streets.

"Someone’s watching us," Jess stated flatly. The entire team pushed back against the café’s wall. Mateo looked up where Jess was aiming her rifle. At first, Mateo thought Jess misidentified the cathedral’s gargoyles as a target. Then, one of them moved. The minion – it had to be a minion – loped across the sloped roof of the cathedral with an inhuman gait. It was barely visible in the nightvision, almost as if it were slipping through the shadows. Mateo felt an icy chill climb his spine as he watched the minion slip into the bell tower.

"Can you take him down?" Mateo asked.

"No," Jess answered simply.

"Matt, are you sure that was even human?" Quentin asked, with an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice. Mateo didn’t answer the big man’s question.

"Tredegar, grab what you can stuff into your bag. We’re moving." The FBI agent looked perplexed as he rejoined the team, but didn’t say anything. Mateo took one more look up at the cathedral’s bell tower. Mateo couldn’t see the minion, but he could feel the minion watching him. Mateo did his best to ignore the icy tentacles and focused on the plan.

"Jim, you’ve got point," Mateo ordered. "We head down this street for another three blocks, and then we head in towards the town center." Jim trotted down the street. Sport traded his M4 for the XM25 grenade launcher before jogging behind the cowboy. Jess, Billy, and Tredegar were next with Mateo and Quentin bringing up the rear.

"Matt, shouldn’t we deal with whatever that was first?" Quentin asked.

"No, I got a feeling that whatever it is, it’ll come to us." Quentin grimaced but didn’t say anything further. He looked up once more before following Mateo down the street. The team moved through the streets of Rosca. With every twist and every alley, Mateo expected his small team to be ambushed. This was when the team was at their most vulnerable. Any of the townspeople could rain down fire on them. Mateo was startled when the team took the final turn and halted at the edge of the town plaza. He’d fully expected to lose one of the team by now. Mateo’s breath quickened as he felt the paranoia creeping into him.

"That was too easy," he murmured as he scanned the plaza. The town center stood in the middle of the plaza. It was a small, squat building with useless plaster columns surrounding the outside. Mateo guessed it was supposed to give a Greco-Roman feel to the building. Instead, it looked like a Greek version of South of the Border. To complete the useless extravagance, there was a wide fountain some fifty feet in front of the town center with a ten foot tall bronze Neptune jutting up from the center. Surrounding the town center was a cobblestone courtyard. Small kiosks and stands were littered across the plaza, the remnants of the last bazaar.

"Jim do you see anything?" Mateo asked.

"Still as a grave out there," Jim answered warily.

"The other team could have succeeded in drawing off all of the Truth’s forces," Tredegar said. A dark chuckle rolled through the Zombie Strike team. Mateo didn’t join them.

"Jess, what does Billy think?" Mateo asked. Jess knelt beside the spirit wolf pup and placed her hand on the pup’s shoulder.

"Alert and wary Matt," Jess answered, "Not at anything specific. If there’s something out there, he can’t sense it."

"I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse," Jim said, voicing the thought running through the team’s minds. Mateo scanned the plaza once more. He couldn’t tell if his hesitation was reasonable caution or just paranoid fear. Almost against his will, Mateo began to ask himself what Collin would do. Mateo hated the man with an almost blinding fury, but he couldn’t deny how much he’d learned under Collin’s tutelage.

"Jim, Sport, move up to the fountain and take up an over-watch," Mateo said, "The rest of us will mad dash to the building. Then, we’ll cover Jim and Sport as they link back up. Once the team is collected, we bust the door and follow the plan." The team formed up. At Mateo’s signal, Jim and Sport sprinted towards the fountain. The crunching sound of boots pounding on cobblestones sounded thunderous in the still night. Jim and Sport crouched behind the low wall of the fountain. Their weapons swept the edges of the plaza before Jim clicked his radio microphone. It was all clear. Mateo let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Hand signals flashed. The team rushed out into the plaza. They hadn’t gone more than ten steps before Billy stopped and started barking. Weapons came up as the team searched for enemies. Mateo heard a light thud from above. He raised his M4 and saw the vague shape of the minion sitting crouched on the top of the town center. The nightvision goggles just couldn’t make out the minion properly. Frustrated, Mateo flipped the goggles up and illuminated the minion with his weapon mounted light. Mateo stopped paralyzed as the white light pierced the night’s darkness. If the minion had been human, it wasn’t any longer.

The creature stood six and a half feet tall easily. It looked like someone had taken a human and stretched until it was barely recognizable. Its elongated body was wrapped in a black and green cloth. No skin was visible, not even around the eyes. Just two slits in the cloth as it wrapped around the minion’s long pointy head. The minion held its rope-like arms in front of its face before it let out a high-pitched screech no human could make. It sprinted across the town center’s roof, fleeing the light’s brilliance. Jess recovered faster than Mateo. Her light tracked the minion for a few seconds before her SCAR coughed. Jess fired three rounds into the minion. The 7.62 mm rounds knocked the minion off balance, and it fell to the roof.

Billy kept barking. Whatever the creature was, three bullets were not enough to put it down. Mateo looked over to Sport. Maybe a grenade would do the trick. Before Mateo could utter a word, the minion leapt up. It slammed a small rod onto the roof. Mateo dropped to his knees as he felt a wave of nauseating power sweep through him. He swallowed hard to keep from puking onto the plaza’s cobblestones. The sensation passed as quickly as it had come. Mateo brought up his weapon. If that was the best this thing could do, someone was going to have a nasty surprise. The loud chorus of hunting moans erupted through the town. Zombies rose from out of the fountain, out of the kiosks and stalls, out of the houses surrounding from the plaza. Instinctively, Mateo turned to face the horde that was now converging on his team. His mind quickly realized two things. One, the reason his team had an easy time was because all of the townspeople were dead. Two, his team was already at the point of crush.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 60

The village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0200 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Collin DuBois dropped the spent magazine out of his M4 and slapped in a fresh one. These buggers were putting up more of a fight than he expected. Bullets splintered the corner of the building he was using as cover. Collin crouched, spun around the corner, and let out a pair of quick bursts. Screams of pain told him he’d at least wounded the gunmen. He darted down the alley. He needed to get his team back together. Collin had just heard the helicopter. Second part of the operation was underway.

The first part of the operation had gone like clockwork. Collin, The Steve, and Slim along with Chief Warrant Officer Stahl and three other soldiers from Task Force 11 jumped into the night sky and HALO’d in. They touched down in an LZ roughly three klicks west of the village three hours ago. Then, came the slow infiltration into the outskirts of the village. It had been a while since Collin did that sort of thing. With Zombie Strike, sneaking was done more for noise control. This was more like what Collin did when he was in the SAS.

As expected, the bloody cultists were all warm and cozy in their little hamlet. Running a proper guard schedule just wasn’t something they thought about. Why should they? They were safe in this village. The team made contact with the village about thirty minutes ago. The minion and some lesser cultists were taken down before they even realized they were under fire. Some of the villagers brought out their own weapons and attacked Collin’s team. They were brought down in short order. Collin was concerned his little group of shooters would plow through the village’s defenses before Matty and his group arrived. Then, the cult’s own shooters arrived.

The firefight that erupted brought back memories of desperate fights around Belfast in Collin’s early days with the Army. Whoever was commanding the Truth’s militia, as Collin started thinking of them, was bloody brilliant. He’d had Collin’s team in a right nice trap. If Slim hadn’t accidentally run into one of the fire teams, all of them would’ve been wiped out. One of the Yanks unloaded his funny-looking grenade launcher. It was amazing how much breathing room five air-bursting grenades could give you. The team was now strung out in pairs along a line of buildings. From the sounds of the firefight, they were dealing out far more than the militia. That would last only as long as their ammo held out. Collin needed to get them back into action before they were killed off one by one. He couldn’t fail. This was his last chance at redemption.

"Dude, The Steve thought you were a goner," The Steve said as Collin slid behind the low wall the medic and Slim were using as cover. It was pretty bad when even the medic’s insanity was comforting.

"The thought crossed my mind a time or two as well," Collin admitted. A hail of bullets cracked into the wall. The old stones held. Slim casually rose up above the edge of the wall and fired twice.

"About six left," Slim reported as he ducked back down an instant before another stream of bullets trimmed the top of the wall. His tone was professional, but his eyes glowed with hatred as they met Collin’s. Slim was not happy with Collin’s command of the assault team.

Collin was surprised when Matty brought him in to help plan the assault on the village. He’d been absolutely stunned when Matty assigned him command of the first team. Needless to say, not everyone was happy with the idea. As far as Slim was concerned, Collin should have been either locked in a dark, dank cell or swinging from a noose. The team sniper only grudgingly agreed that Collin was the best person available when Mateo directly asked him. Slim also made it perfectly clear that as soon as this operation was done, he would make sure Collin faced some sort of justice. Slim had been vague as to what form justice would take, and Collin just couldn’t blame him. As to the rest of his team, well, they were all soldiers. They’d fought under commanders they didn’t quite trust before. As long as Collin didn’t get them killed, they’d deal with it.

"Stahl, are you able to move?" Collin asked over the radio. Collin was really missing satellites at the moment.

"If we can take care of the guys shooting at us, yeah," the warrant officer answered, "Right now, we’re just bleeding them."

"Do you think your group can make it to the butcher shop?" Collin asked, looking at the map on his PDA. The shop was about a block deeper into the town. From there, the Yanks should either be flanking the militia or acting as a blocking force if the militia tried to flank them. At any rate, it would be easier to strengthen their position.

"We could," the warrant officer, his tone making it clear he was also studying the situation. "It might be better if I moved my group to the jewelry store." Collin swallowed his angry retort as the warrant officer’s plan dawned on Collin. Risky and bold, but a bloody smart scheme. Oh yes, this American would do nicely.

"I see what you’re after Mr. Stahl," Collin said, "Will our enemies act as you’re expecting?"

"Already have once, and we wiped out that little group," Stahl answered calmly, "We just need you to catch up with us."

"On our way then," Collin said, and looked over to his two comrades. The Steve understood the plan and gave Collin a thumbs-up. Slim just scowled as he fiddled with the scope on his SR-25 rifle. "Boys, let’s take care of these buggers. I think a Mexico City is in order."

The three Zombie Strike shooters spread out along the wall. Slim kept the center as The Steve and Collin moved to each side a few meters. The militia figured something was going on and poured more fire at the team. This was going better than expected. All three men lifted their nightvision goggles an instant before The Steve tossed a small grenade shaped device into the street. The "disco ball" bounced twice before landing on little legs. The ball rotated towards the militia and opened up like a flower. The small, but powerful LEDs flashed to light. Reflecting off the flower of intricately designed mirror panels, the brilliant white light illuminated the militia’s side of the street. The militia fire stopped as the men were blinded. The three Zombie Strike shooters rose up and took down the half-dozen militia with volleys of hammer pairs.

"Let’s move mates," Collin said, leaping over the wall.

"The Steve was hoping he wouldn’t have to use that so early," the medic said, scooping up the spent disco ball as the team hustled down the street. From the sound of gunfire, Stahl and his men were already moving. "The Steve didn’t bring the European adapter to recharge it."

"At least you didn’t lose the bloody thing," Slim commented, "Thousand pounds a pop, Mr. Cortez would be a bit miffed with you." Collin didn’t join in the banter. For one, he lost the right with his betrayal. For two, he was concentrating on getting his team into place. Chief Stahl’s plan was relatively simple. The jeweler’s shop was at the outskirts of the town, but to get there the Americans would have to advance at the militia and then retreat down a cross street from their current position. The same street Collin’s group was advancing down. From the crescendo of small arms echoing up the street, the Americans completed the first part – hitting the militia hard. The militia was better than the first gunmen the team engaged, but they weren’t professionals. When amateurs got their blood up during a firefight, they had a nasty habit of chasing a retreating enemy. Like the American soldiers retreating back to the jeweler’s shop. Stahl and his boys were leading those militia fighters into a nasty trap. The American soldiers were the anvil. Collin’s group was the hammer – if they moved fast enough.

A pair of stragglers stepped out of an alley. The two men froze in shock as they saw the three Zombie Strike team members. Slim and The Steve took them down without breaking stride. Collin didn’t even spare a glance at the falling bodies. They were less than a hundred meters from snapping the trap shut. Already, he could see black-garbed men advancing down the street in formation. A machine gun opened up. Collin’s ears perked up. That wasn’t the Minimi SAW machine gun the Americans brought with them. That sounded like an FN MAG. Lord knew Collin had enough experience with the weapon from his army days. That bloody thing could tear the Americans apart if Collin didn’t put it out of commission.

Collin took off in a sprint. He’d gone maybe a dozen meters before he slammed into a wall that suddenly appeared in the middle of the street. Collin grunted as he slammed back into the asphalt. The pain was bad enough. Then, the wall moved towards him. Collin’s vision cleared and saw the largest gollum he’d ever seen looming over him. Still stunned from the impact, Collin could only watch as the gigantic monster swung its axe down on him.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 59

Approximately 20 miles from the village of Rosca, island of Corsica, 14 August 2010, 0200 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 2 months, 16 days

Mateo Cortez gripped the handhold tighter as the helicopter bucked from a sudden updraft. He learned to hate flying in choppers. They were noisy, uncomfortable, and tended to jerk at the wrong moment. Mateo was half-convinced the machines wanted to crash. Unfortunately, there was nothing better for a rapid entry into a combat zone. Another jolt made Mateo wish he’d been able to lead Collin’s part of the mission. Then, he remembered he hated sky-diving more than flying in a helicopter. That was better left to the experienced people.

"Two minutes, Mr. Cortez," the pilot said over the headphones. Mateo held up two fingers to his team in the helicopter’s cabin. The red light cut out, plunging the cabin into darkness. Mateo took off the headphones and put on his helmet. A few quick attachments and his eyes lit up with the distinctive green of nightvision. Mateo checked his team. Jim was almost hanging out of the helicopter’s door by one hand. The other was firmly gripped on his precious Big Horn .500 S&W lever-action. The team’s resident cowboy demanded to be a part of the offensive, and Mateo was glad to have him along. Sport sat next to Jim, looking almost asleep. Sport was one of those good utility shooters. For this assault, Sport was the team’s grenadier. He carried an M4 and an XM25 20mm grenade launcher the Army lent the team. Sitting next to Mateo was Jess. The girl had become very serious over the last couple of weeks. She pushed herself almost as hard as Mateo. He knew it wasn’t healthy for her. Robyn Adams told him as much the day before. Zombie Strike’s new liaison from M&W practically demanded Mateo leave Jess behind. One look in his foster daughter’s eyes, and Mateo knew that wasn’t going to happen. The girl needed vengeance as bad as Mateo. She caught him looking at her, and she patted the SCAR-H strapped to her chest. She preferred the semi-auto rifle to her previous bolt gun. The team sharpshooter was ready. Billy, the spirit wolf pup looked up from her feet. He was ready as well. Quentin McLintock was pulling triple duty for this operation. Not only was he the team’s close-quarters person, but he was also acting as Mateo’s tactical deputy. Those two roles would have been hard enough, but Mateo knew that Kenn Blanchard, the commander of Zombie Strike, asked the big man to keep an eye on Mateo and act as the team conscience. The last member of the team was a surprise. Special Agent Edgar Tredegar of the FBI was lounging in the helicopter seat. Tredegar was acting as the team medic and intelligence specialist. Apparently, Tredegar made his way into college via the US Army, where he’d been a medic in the 101st. Mateo still thought Tredegar looked out of place in battle rattle with an M4 strapped to his chest.

Gunfire cracked over the sound of the helicopter. From the sound, it was all small-arms fire, and none of it was coming near the helicopter. Collin’s team must have made contact. Earlier than expected, but well within the plan’s parameters. Well, Collin’s team had all of the experienced shooters for a reason. Mateo looked out the opened cargo door. The town’s power had been cut an hour ago. There were a few lights, either from generators or torches. Tracers from the gun battle between Collin’s team and the town’s defenders gave the scene an almost sci-fi feel. Mateo’s stomach revolted as the helicopter dropped out of the sky only to flare to a hover a bare few feet from the dusty ground. The crew chief forcefully gestured for the team to get out. Jim, Jess, and Billy jumped out and sprinted about twenty yards away from the helicopter before crouching down with their weapons up. Sport and Quentin were the next out, hustling across the ground to their positions. Mateo and Tredegar jumped out an instant before the helicopter roared back into the night sky. The downwash pelted the team with stinging dust. Mateo remembered another reason he hated helicopters.

The team was motionless as the dust settled around them. The edge of the town was maybe three hundred yards away from them. The buildings stood in shadows, just barely visible in the team’s nightvision. Mateo waited, and listening for Billy. The spirit wolf pup wasn’t growling, so the team wasn’t in immediate danger. Even so, they didn’t have time to waste. Mateo motioned to Jim. The cowboy gave a short nod and trotted towards the town. The team filed in behind him. Jess and Billy were next, following about ten yards behind Jim. Quentin jogged behind the pair with Tredegar right behind him. Mateo came next with Sport covering their rear. All of the team was anxious as they neared their target. This mission was different than any they had done before. In the past year, Zombie Strike engaged the cult known as The Truth several times, but it was always in reaction to the Truth’s operations. Contain a zombie outbreak here, or try to prevent the cultists from stealing an artifact there. This time, Zombie Strike was on the offensive. This town was one of the Truth’s strongholds, and Zombie Strike was here to wipe it out.

Billy growled an instant before the darkness was broken by the twinkling of muzzle flashes and the distinctive sound of assault rifles from the town. The team instantly scattered as bullets kicked up plumes of dust. There wasn’t any cover on this side of the town, and precious little in the way of concealment. The team managed to duck behind sparse bushes and small rises in the ground. More weapons opened up on the team. Not ARs or AKs from the sound. Probably something German.

"Jess, Jim suppressive fire," Mateo ordered over the team’s radio net, "Quentin, Sport, we need a hole opened up." A chorus of double-clicks acknowledged Mateo’s commands. Jim’s rifle boomed over the puny sounds of assault rifles. One of the muzzle flashes stopped suddenly. Jim racked another cartridge and continued firing. Jess was methodically taking out targets. Her suppressed SCAR was essentially silent next to Jim’s thunderous lever-action. The incoming fire lessened as the Truth shooters were either killed or hid from the two sharpshooters. Sport and Quentin sprinted the last hundred yards to the town. Mateo waited impatiently as the two kicked their way into a small building and set up a cross-fire against their assailants.

"Matt, we’ve got them pinned down in a shop catty-corner to us," Quentin reported after a tense two minutes, "We could use some help." Mateo leapt to his feet and charged towards the town. The town was essentially a large diamond with several neatly laid out blocks of homes and shops clustered around what Mateo thought of as the town hall. Scattered single buildings, like the one Quentin and Sport were fighting from, dotted the edges of the town. From what Mateo remembered of the town’s layout, the bad guys were using a shop on the edge of one of the city blocks. Mateo and the rest of the team lined up behind Quentin’s building.

"Jess, see if you can get up on the roof and rain down some fire," Mateo said. The teen nodded. She slipped around the corner with Billy in tow. Mateo wished the wolf pup was coming with him, but he had to admit he felt easier knowing the pup was guarding Jess. Directly across from Mateo was a vacant lot the town had been using as an impromptu dump for large appliances. Discarded ovens, refrigerators, and other junk were scattered across the grass and gravel lot. It wasn’t great cover, but it would have to do. The bad guys opened up with a new fusillade. Mateo ducked into the scrap lot with Jim and Tredegar in tow. A couple of the more observant bad guys saw the three men running and fired bursts at them. Bullets panged off of metal. Close. Too close. That just wouldn’t do. Mateo rose up just enough where the building was in sight. He could see maybe a dozen or so pale green figures in what had been a café across the street. Mateo aimed and squeezed the trigger. The suppressed M4 stuttered like an electric typewriter. The figure collapsed to the ground. Tredegar dropped another. Then, Jess opened fire from her roof perch. Three went down in less than three seconds. Another two went down, victims of Quentin and Sport. The remaining five threw their weapons out into the street and raised their hands. Under the cover of Jim and Jess’s rifles, Mateo ordered the bad guys out into the street.

Four of the five were just townspeople, not active members of the Truth. Mateo didn’t feel any guilt as he watched them zip-tied. These men weren’t innocent people defending their town from invaders. Zombie Strike had good intel the townspeople were willing partners of the Truth. Whether it was because they believed in the Truth’s mad plan or just because they wanted the Truth’s money wasn’t clear. In the end, it didn’t matter. If they were willing to take up arms in defense of the cult, they were targets. If they surrendered, Mateo was willing to tie them up and stash them until the fight was over.

Tredegar had the last man off to the side with his arms bound behind him and lying on his stomach. This one was definitely a member of the cult. He was maybe twenty, if a day, with his brown hair in a fashionable cut. At least, that’s what Jess said. Duct tape across his mouth muffled the unending string of angry protests. Tredegar was busily sorting through the contents of the cultist’s jeans and out-dated web gear.

"Anything useful?" Mateo asked.

"Doesn’t look like it," Tredegar said. "He’s just a flunky. Probably not even one of their Champions." Mateo grimaced as Tredegar used the cult’s name for what Zombie Strike called minions. It felt like the special agent was giving the cult respect it didn’t deserve.

"I’ll check the ones that didn’t survive the fight," Tredegar said, starting to walk to the bodies.

"We don’t have time for an investigation," Mateo said. Over the past two weeks, Mateo gained a newfound respect for the investigative abilities of the FBI special agent and his colleagues. They could do some amazing detective work, but they did it at a methodical pace. Excellent for preparing a criminal case. Not so much in the middle of an operation.

"Five minutes?" Tredegar asked. Mateo scanned the surrounding area. No sign of additional bad guys. He nodded. Tredegar took two steps towards the café before he stopped suddenly and cursed. Mateo looked back as the dead began to rise.

"Team, we get to kill them twice," Mateo announced over the radio as he brought up his M4.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 58

Washington DC Beltway, 27 July 2010, 1245 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Mateo Cortez felt something hot and hard pushing on his back. It took a few moments for him to realize he was lying on the asphalt. Why was he on the ground? Oh yeah, that entire trailer went up like a baby nuke. Grunting with effort, Mateo managed to roll over. He couldn’t see any of his team. Come to think of it, the road around him didn’t look like the overpass. He cricked his neck around. Sweet Savior, he was maybe three hundred feet from the overpass. What remained of the overpass, at any rate. Dear God, how had he survived that explosion?

"Finally, you’re awake," said a familiar voice. Mateo looked up and met Ted’s eyes. The minion was sitting on the remains of a sedan. His ninja suit was riddled with bloody rips. Ted wasn’t even wearing his mask. Mateo’s hand traveled down his side to his sidearm. It wasn’t there.

"If you’re looking for this, I’ll give it back to you in a bit," Ted said, holding up Mateo’s Sig. "I really wanted to kill you. I really wanted to kill your team. But no, Mikhail said you have to be alive. So, instead of just stepping away when you blew up my truck, I actually had to save all of your hides." Ted slid off the wreckage and stood over Mateo.

"You know, killing Kenn and your wife and wiping out your little base on that island was supposed to be messages, but you and your team are just too thick in the head to understand," Ted said. "Let me explain it all to you. You are not going to win. You are not going to stop the Truth. This is prophecy. If you keep trying to stop us, we are going to keep doing horrific things to the people you love. So do us all a favor, quit." Ted actually sounded compassionate. Mateo grumbled a sentence.

"What did you say?" Ted taunted, bending down to place his ear next to Mateo’s head. Mateo let the adrenaline take over. The blade flashed in the noontime sun a brief instant before Mateo planted it in Ted’s eye socket. The minion let out a horrific scream as blood splattered across Mateo. Both of Ted’s hands flew to his face as he gripped the slippery handle of the blade. The Zombie Strike field commander slowly stood up.

"I said I’m going to stab you in the face," Mateo said, gritting the words out in pain. He took two slow steps and picked up his pistol. Mateo worked the slide, feeling the bullet slide into the chamber. Pain and stiffness made bringing the pistol up a slow and arduous effort. Fortunately, Ted was preoccupied with trying to get the knife out of his head. Mateo had all the time in the world. The double-tap scattered Ted’s brains across the highway.

Before the body even started to fall, a wave of white energy erupted from Ted. The tidal wave of energy passed through Mateo like a ghost and continued speeding out in a circle. Mateo felt like he had been released from manacles. All of his pain and fatigue dropped away. Mateo felt better than he had in months. Even old injuries long since ignored were healed. As Mateo looked around him, he could see his team members standing up from where they landed. From their exclamations and movements, they too had felt the healing energy. Mateo waved them over. They still needed to get to his daughters. Mateo yanked his knife out of Ted’s lifeless corpse. He did a quick search. The Rod of Fiore was gone. Mateo kept Ted’s wallet and some bits and pieces that looked like they would be interesting to the intel folks. Two engines started. They sounded surprisingly loud against the quiet of the abandoned highway. A Mercedes sedan and a large Ford SUV roared up next to Mateo.

"Where to, boss?" The Steve asked from the SUV’s driver’s seat.

"Washington Hospital Center. And floor it."

Washington Hospital Center, Washington DC, 27 July 2010, 1230 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Jess Montgomery stared at Collin for just an instant. Then, she snapped the pistol up. Collin almost looked annoyed as he darted to the side. One strong hand gripped her wrist while the other plucked the pistol from her hand. Jess twisted and jabbed with her left. Collin dodged the punch easily, but he was clearly surprised by the move. He shouldn’t have been. This man had been one of Jess’s teachers for the better part of a year. Collin tucked the pistol in the small of his back before dropping into a loose fighting stance. At least he took her somewhat seriously. Jess fell into a stance Collin drilled into her. His eyebrow crooked upward. She just needed to hold his attention for just a bit longer. Collin realized an instant to late that Jess was just the bait.

Billy pounced on Collin. The spirit wolf was back to his normal size, but that was still huge. Almost three hundred pounds of wolf slammed into Collin. Billy and Collin slid nearly twenty feet across the tile floor before stopping. Collin punched Billy in the side, but the pup didn’t move. Billy just growled.

"Let him up," said a commanding voice. Kenn Blanchard, dressed in some borrowed scrubs limped into hallway. Jess beamed when she saw the Zombie Strike commander. She dashed over to him. He grunted in pain as she enveloped him in a fierce hug.

"Easy sweetie, I’m not that healed up," Kenn grunted. Jess chuckled and let go. She motioned to the spirit pup. Billy backed off of Collin. The former SAS commando leapt to his feet. With his head hung, Collin slinked up to stand in front of Kenn. He never saw the right cross. The punch landed with a meaty thwack. Collin staggered back before falling to the floor. Kenn took a step, but an FBI special agent slid in front of him.

"Ease away Mr. Blanchard," Special Agent Tredegar said. The FBI agent looked uncomfortable in the tactical rig. "Mr. DuBois was not the one who shot you." Kenn and Jess paused in surprise.

"We also know about the events surrounding the death of Nigel Brown," Tredegar said. Kenn’s face fell into a sorrowful look. Jess could tell there was something going on that she wasn’t in on.

"What’s going on?" Jess asked of the three men.

"Yes, please, tell us what is going on." Mateo’s voice boomed through the hallway. Jess saw the glint of anger in her foster father’s eyes as he walked in. Behind him, the other members of Zombie Strike waited with neutral faces.

"Collin came to me a couple of weeks ago," Kenn admitted, his voice husky, "He told me that he was being blackmailed into killing me. We figured it would be a good chance to get a mole into their operation. We had it all planned out, but then Nigel stepped in front of the bullet."

"And you didn’t tell me because?" Mateo demanded.

"Neither of us thought you’d be able to pull it off," Collin said, "Matty, you’re a good leader, but you can’t lie to save your life. We needed to sell it. We weren’t sure what kind of spies Giant and his people have."

"Wait, if Collin didn’t shoot Mercedes, then who did?" Jess asked.

"The best evidence supports either Ted or another member of the Truth," Tredegar answered, "Apparently, they didn’t trust Mr. Dubois to finish the job." Mateo stormed back out of the hospital. Jess chased after her foster father. There was an uncomfortable silence as the members of Zombie Strike stood hard-faced at Collin. Slim was the first to speak.

"You bloody piker," he said, "You blinded us and disarmed us right when ten thousand of the undead attacked." Collin’s eyes widened at the number. "You may have left us some supplies and some intel, but we lost people during that assault. People you knew." Collin didn’t flinch. He just stood there as Slim’s words lashed at him. "What, no pretty excuse to spring yourself?"

"I was told what to do by one of Giant’s minions and when to do it," Collin said, "I managed to guess the rest, but I had no idea they would use that many zombies against Skull Island. I don’t even know how they could have gotten that many zombies on the island." Collin shook his head. "What do you want from me, Slim?"

"Vengeance," Slim said with an air of finality.

"You’ll get it," Mateo said, rejoining the team. Jess followed behind him. She was trying her best to hide the tears that stained her cheeks and reddened her eyes. Mateo must have told her about Maria.

"The minion we fought today told me that all of this was a warning to us to stay away from them," Mateo said to the gathered group, "We’ve been fighting this Truth group for nearly a year now. We’ve lost more than we’ve won, but they’ve still gone to great lengths to deal with us. I am tired of playing catch-up to these people. It’s time to make them dance to our tune."

"Sounds good Cortez, but exactly how do you plan on doing this?" Chief Warrant Officer Stahl asked.

"They had to launch all of this from somewhere," Mateo said, "We have the resources of the FBI and M&W at our disposal. We’re going to find them. Then, we’re going on the offensive."

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 57

Washington DC Beltway, 27 July 2010, 1200 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Mateo Cortez ducked as a beam of fire shot overhead. For a second, he could feel his entire body burn. For that eternal instant, Mateo could only concentrate on breathing and holding onto his weapon. The air mercifully returned to normal, and Mateo only felt the echo of the pain. Adrenaline was truly a wonderful thing. Now, if they could just deal with the minion and get off this overpass. Mateo and his Zombie Strike team members were up and firing the moment the beam ceased. Jim, Slim, and Quentin were busy on zombie clearing. Mateo focused on Ted. The minion was standing on top of a semi. Mateo fired another useless burst at him. The bullets smacked harmlessly into Ted’s invisible shield, melted, and dropped onto the trailer. The globs of melted lead and copper sounded like loose hail as they struck the metal roof of the trailer.

Ted paced back and forth. After the first five minutes of the ambush, Ted seemed almost bored with tossing blasts of fire energy. Mateo needed to figure out a way to end this. His team – including the small group of soldiers they picked up – needed to get back to the Washington Hospital Center. Jess, his foster daughter, was there to guard Zombie Strike’s leader, Kenn Blanchard and Mateo’s other daughter. Four calls all resulted in a busy signal. Jess knew to keep the line clear during an operation, which meant something bad was happening. Mateo didn’t even want to contemplate what might be happening at the moment. Slim crawled up next to Mateo. The tall Brit was paler than normal and his brown eyes were bloodshot. From what The Steve said, Slim did very well in the fighting on Skull Island. Slim rose from behind the car they were using as cover. He fired twice before ducking back down.

"Mr. Cortez, approximately how much ammunition do you have available?" Slim asked in his odd, formal tone.

"About another four mags," Mateo answered, "Why?"

"I believe I may have deciphered a way off the bridge, sir," Slim answered, "With your leave, sir, I need to confer with Chief Stahl." Mateo nodded. Slim darted between the abandoned cars to where the Army soldiers were covering Zombie Strike’s rear and flanks. Slim traded a few words with the chief warrant officer before dashing back to Mateo.

"Okay, what’s the plan?" asked Mateo as another red beam of painful heat lanced over the team.

"If the team can keep the minion’s attention for a few seconds through concentrated weapons fire, then I can lob this under his perch and blow it up," Slim said, brandishing a grenade. "Even if the blast doesn’t kill the minion directly, it should disrupt him long enough for us to wound or kill him on our own."

"Not bad, Slim," Mateo said, a predatory smile crossing his face, "Are you sure you can get that grenade under the trailer?"

"Mr. Cortez, I am an excellent cricket player," Slim said, "It should be a trifle of a thing." Slim’s smile matched Mateo’s own.

"Okay folks, here’s how we’re going to play this," Mateo said, "Chief, find us a couple of cars and load up. Quentin, you and Jim are going to unload full magazines at Ted. As soon as you’re empty, fall back to the chief. I’ll cover Slim as he tosses the grenade. As soon as Ted is down, we get back to the hospital."

"My troops and I can’t leave if there are any undead," Chief Stahl said, "We’ll finish up here and meet you up at the hospital." Mateo grimaced, but agreed. He hated the idea of leaving shooters behind, but he hated the idea of leaving an outbreak to spread even more.

"Jim and Quentin, GO!" Mateo yelled. The two zombie hunters sprang up and emptied their magazines at Ted. The minion was surprised by the sudden hail of concentrated gunfire, but unconcerned. He posed dramatically as the bullets slapped against his shield. Mateo took over as his teammates’ weapons went dry. The M4 tore through the thirty round magazine only a few seconds after Mateo squeezed the trigger. It was all the time Slim needed. Mateo saw the matte-black metal ball sail through the air, bounce once off the asphalt and roll under the trailer. Mateo smiled as he saw the explosion of the grenade. Then Mateo’s world went white as the entire trailer exploded.

Washington Hospital Center, Washington DC, 27 July 2010, 1200 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Jess Montgomery picked herself up off the tiled floor. She still felt a bit dizzy and fuzzy, but she needed to move. Billy was still alive. The bond between her and the spirit wolf pup was still strong in her mind. She could feel Billy’s protective fury. Jess took a few steps towards the front of the emergency room. Medical equipment was strewn over the floor. Most of it had been torn off the walls by the same explosion that tossed her halfway across the emergency room. She picked her way through the debris. Jess still had a magazine left in her Glock. Billy needed her, and nothing was going to stop her from helping the pup.

As she crept around the admission island, Jess could see the zombie horde that initially attacked the hospital. They were standing in the huge entranceway. Zombies avoided gollums. If they weren’t moving, it was because the gollum was still in the front of the emergency room. As Jess rounded the desk, she spied the gollum facing off against Billy. Jess blinked as she saw her pup. The animal was normally the size of a large German Shepard. Billy was now the size of a pony, easily four feet at the shoulder. He was still glowing with an angry white light. The two were frozen in place.

The gollum attacked. The obsidian axe whistled through the air. Billy leapt away from the blow and then dashed in with his own attack. The gollum jumped straight up to avoid Billy’s snapping jaws. As the gollum landed, it whipped its axe around. The blade caught Billy in his front left shoulder. Billy let out a wounded yip. The gollum slashed out again. Billy caught the gollum’s arm in his maw and slammed the gollum into a wall. The gollum scrambled to its feet just in time for Billy to land a double-kick with both of his rear legs. The gollum was driven hard back into the wall. It was enough for the gollum to leave an impression in the dry wall. The gollum staggered forward and lashed out with a sloppy swing. Jess was shocked when the blow connected. Then she saw why. Billy let the blow land. In his teeth was the gollum’s stone medallion – the object that gave the creature its nigh-invulnerability. With a short jerk, Billy tore the medallion from its leather strap and swallowed it. The gollum let out an ear-shattering screech. Billy ended the noise as he stomped on the gollum.

As soon as the gollum withered away to a skeleton, the zombie horde started to pour into the hospital. At this range, Jess wasn’t worried about hitting her targets. She lined up her first shot and let the muscle memory take over. Billy darted in between shots to crush a zombie or two. They’d taken down over twenty zombies when the Jess’s Glock locked back on an empty mag. Her eyes darted over the debris on the floor. Maybe there was something there that she could use to take down a few more. Jess felt her phone vibrate earlier. Mateo had to be on his way. All she needed to do was hold out long enough for her foster father to arrive. Someone grabbed her arm. Training and instinct kicked in. In three moves, she had her assailant on the floor. Unfortunately, it was Agent Blackie.

"Get down!" he screamed at Jess, pointing frantically for the door. What was he talking about? She needed to fight to protect her family. Wait, Blackie had a gun. She knelt down next to him and snatched the weapon from his hand. She popped out the magazine and quickly verified it was full. Before she could jump back into the fray, the budda-budda-budda sound of a heavy machine gun roared through the emergency room. The zombie horde was chewed to bits as the heavy bullets vaporized flesh and bone. Jess heard the cracks as bullets whipped over her. The machine gun stopped, and Jess heard the crackle of suppressed rifle fire. Mateo and the others must be here. She jumped up. It wasn’t Mateo. Jess’s mind froze as she saw Collin DuBois finishing off a crawler with a suppressed M4. Collin smiled as he caught sight of Jess.

"Hello Jess," Collin said, "Aren’t you happy to see me?"

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 56