Skull Island, South Pacific, 25 July 2010, 0600 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 6 days

Slim Thomas emptied his MP-5/10’s magazine into the zombies. Some of the hunting moans were cut short. Most weren’t. Slim needed to open up room between the zombies and his trio of zombie killers. Thankfully, zombies were not very agile creatures. The few that Slim took down with his burst tripped other zombies. The horde slowed as it struggled with the stumbles. Slim darted back to Quentin and Sport. Quentin stood in front of Sport with a submachine gun in each hand. The MP5/10’s looked like oversized pistols in Quentin’s massive hands. Quentin was following Slim’s lead with careful sprays of automatic fire to drive back the zombies as they got too close to their fallen comrade.

Slim dropped next to Sport. The man was flailing about uncontrollably. Slim didn’t know what the minion had done to Sport, but he needed to get his teammate under control. Slim snagged Sport’s left arm and held it tight. A few quick touches and the PDA mounted in the armor’s bracer rebooted. The medical program shrieked at Sport’s condition and dumped painkillers and sedatives into the man’s system. Slim held fast as the drugs took effect. The flailing slowed and then stopped as Sport dropped into unconsciousness. The damage was done though. As Slim looked up, dozens more zombies turned towards them. Another chorus of hunting moans filled the dawning morning.

"Quentin, it’s time to leave. Grab Sport. I’ll cover you," Slim said to his teammate as he inserted a new magazine into the submachine gun and slammed down the charging handle.

"Sure thing," Quentin said as he dropped one of his MP5/10’s. He let the other dangle on its sling as he hoisted the limp form of Sport over his shoulder. Any other time, Slim would be amazed at how Quentin easily scooped up Sport. Now, he was too busy taking out zombies and trying to survive this insanity.

"Where to?" Quentin asked. He used the submachine gun like a pistol and double-tapped a zombie that managed to get within a few yards of the team. The question caused a tingling in Slim’s mind. There was something important he couldn’t quite remember. The team didn’t have time for him to stop and puzzle out what little piece of information was tickling the back of his mind. They needed to move before they hit crush.

"Back to the forest," Slim said. Quentin turned and ran back to the tree line. Slim fired off another quick pair of bursts and followed his teammate. Slim had gone a few yards before he knew he’d made a mistake. Slim didn’t know what it was, but there was the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned and carefully placed several more bursts, taking down nearly a dozen zombies. Slim ejected the used magazine and slapped in a new one. From the sounds of Quentin’s yells, the big man was in the tree line. Time to leave.

Slim turned to sprint into the forest. He took a few steps and stumbled over what he thought was a clump of grass. He let go of his submachine gun as his arms shot forward to break his fall. The grass was slick, and his hands slid out from under him as they hit the ground. The breath whooshed out of him as his MP5 was driven into his chest. Slim’s mind screamed for him to get back up and run. His body just wasn’t responding. His legs were stuck in something. Then he felt the bite.

Everything came into sharp focus as Slim’s body dumped every last bit of adrenaline into his bloodstream. The pistol was in his hand before he realized he was lining up the front sight on the zombie’s head. The crawler started to moan when Slim double-tapped the Glock. The moan stopped abruptly, and Slim felt the grip on his legs loosen. Panic fueled his mind as he scrambled onto his feet and sprinted the last fifty yards to the tree line.

"What happened?" Quentin asked as Slim slid into the ground next to him.

"My God, that zombie bit me," Slim said in horror. It was a death sentence. Worse than a death sentence. Images flashed through his mind as he realized what had just happened to him. He knew he was babbling, but he didn’t care. It was the worst nightmare of every zombie hunter. There was only one real option. He brought the pistol up

"Stop!" ordered Quentin as his hand clenched down on Slim’s wrist and wrenched the pistol away. Slim saw the rage in Quentin’s face. He didn’t understand why Quentin stopped him.

"The bite didn’t go through," Quentin said forcefully. Slim looked down at his leg. The tight fabric wasn’t punctured or torn. The zombie’s bite was no worse than a bad pinch. Slim felt his legs go wobbly as relief flooded his mind.

"Easy there partner," Quentin said soothingly and braced Slim up against a tree.

"I’m not going to die. I’m not going to turn into one of them," Slim said breathlessly.

"Well not yet anyway," Quentin said, motioning to the oncoming horde. Then Quentin let out a string of curses. Slim gave him a quizzical look.

"We should have run the other way," Quentin said, "The bunkers are back that way." The realization hit Slim. That was what his mind was trying to force him to remember. The bunkers. The heavily reinforced and supplied bunkers used as waypoints when Zombie Strike was only a reality television show instead of the prime zombie hunter force. The bunkers with direct lines back to the complex. Slim barely had time to beat himself up over the mistake before the forest echoed with hunting moans.

They were now surrounded.

Washington DC, 26 July 2010, 2200 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Mateo Cortez barely kept his emotions under control as he sat in the molded plastic chair. Rage, sorrow, and fear flooded his mind. His little girl was hurt. Hurt badly, and she might not see the morning. His best friend was shot and also might not live to see another dawn. His ex-wife was in the hands of his enemies. It was all he could do to just sit in that chair and not fall apart. He felt Jess leaning against him and Billy curled up at his feet. One of the hospital people tried to take away the spirit wolf pup. Someone, Special Agent Tredegar, Mateo thought, made it very clear that the animal would go where it damn well pleased. Mateo knew he should be grateful to the FBI agent, but he just couldn’t work up the emotion.

The last forty-five minutes were a blur for Mateo. He knew seconds after the shot, Mercedes was snatched from him. He watched helplessly as the paramedics worked frantically on his little girl. It felt like both a few seconds and an eternity before the paramedics hustled the little girl into an ambulance. Mateo was ushered into a police car, and the two vehicles shot through the city streets with sirens blaring. The DC Metro police officer calmly disarmed Mateo before letting him into the Washington Hospital Center. Mateo didn’t even realize he was unarmed until he sat down in the chair the nurse showed him.

Mateo was told to wait for the doctor. That was all he could do. Mateo Cortez, the zombie hunter who faced down death countless times and gone up against horrific powers, could only sit in an uncomfortable plastic chair and wait. Shame joined the other emotions, and he could feel his reserve start to crack. A feminine hand pushed a cup of coffee into his hands. The warm cup broke Mateo out of his brooding. He looked up into the worried face of Robyn Adams. Mateo wasn’t sure why the lawyer from MacKenzie and Winston was still there. This was beyond anything her duties demanded of her. Mateo had to admit that her presence was comforting.

"You look like hell," Robyn said quietly as she sat down next Mateo. His usual discomfort around attractive women roared up, but he couldn’t summon up the strength to move away. Mateo did the next best thing and stared down into the black, steaming liquid.

"Special Agent Tredegar has every agent he can find looking for Ted and Maria," Robyn said, her voice calm and soothing, "The hospital pulled in its best trauma teams in to take care of Kenn and Mercedes. It’s time to let other people do their jobs." The last statement caught Mateo off-guard.

"What?" he half-sputtered, almost dropping the cup of coffee.

"You’re beating yourself up because you can’t do anything," Robyn said. Her blue eyes bored unflinchingly into his. "You’re used to being in control, and this is tearing you up." Mateo wanted to scream at her, tell her wrong she was. The problem was he couldn’t.

"She’s right Matt," Jess murmured. Mateo shot up off the chair and whirled on the two women. They were almost mirror images of concern. He couldn’t handle their earnest compassion. He let out a strangled scream and stormed out of the hospital. He stepped into the humid night air. Well, it was humid for the locals. Mateo was from Florida. Days where it was like walking around with a wet towel across your face were not unheard of. Still, the fresh air helped. Some of the pent-up frustration lessened. Mateo was taking deep breaths when he felt his phone vibrate at his waist. The sudden vibration startled Mateo. With the destruction of the satellite constellation, cell service was spotty at best. Still, if you were near a hotspot, most phones could download all of your messages. Mateo stared down and saw a message from Collin. That didn’t make sense. Collin was back on Skull Island. It was easier getting a telegram from there than an email. Mateo tapped the icon and listened to the message.

Stunned shock banished all of Mateo’s other emotions. Disbelief followed. Collin couldn’t be working with the minions. He couldn’t have killed Nigel. He couldn’t betray Mateo like that. Disbelief fell away as the message ended. A cold rage surged through Mateo. As he looked back to the shooting of Kenn and Mercedes, Mateo could see Collin’s style in the attack. His fingerprints were all over it. Of all the things that Mateo kept under control, the most important was his killing side. Now it was completely unleashed. Mateo was going to find Collin and kill him.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 50

Skull Island, South Pacific, 25 July 2010, 0430 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 6 days

Slim Thomas crept along the tree line. He kept a wary eye on the ever closing line of the zombie horde. A cold chill ran down his spine. Slim, like all of the field operatives in Zombie Strike, was among those lucky few humans who didn’t suffer from an overriding fear at the sight of the undead. Still 10,000 was more than a bit disconcerting. Especially when he needed to infiltrate the line and find the minion controlling the horde.

Slim winced at the rustle of leaves and the unmistakable sound of a human body hitting the hard packed dirt of the forest ground. Quentin cursed as he slowly stood. He froze as he realized how much noise he was making. Zombies homed in on loud noise until their other degraded senses could detect you. Slim, Sport, and Quentin silently stood, listening for the distinctive hunting moan. A minute passed and nothing. The team continued on.

The team had found the minion by simply scanning the horde from the roof of the Zombie Strike compound. The minion was in the middle of a three hundred strong group of zombies towards the rear of the horde. It might have been harder if the minion wasn’t wearing the distinctive ninja costume. Slim wondered if the costume was some sort of uniform. It didn’t seem to have any real utility. Slim held the minion in his sights, desperately wanting to squeeze the trigger. Unfortunately, the range was just a bit too long. Slim didn’t want his target to know he was being hunted.

The plan was simple. Sport, Slim, and Quentin would slip out and make their way to the forest some thousand yards from the edge of the compound. The forest would break up the line of zombies and give the team the best chance of breaking through. Once through, the team would sneak up on the minion from behind and take him out. Without the minion to direct the assault, Zombie Strike should be able to hole up behind their fortifications and slowly whittle away the horde until it was destroyed or help arrived.

The team walked quietly through the forest. The deathly silence was eerie. Slim was used to hearing the sounds of life every time he walked into this forest. Not this time. The only sound was the ragged cacophony of moans from the horde. They were halfway through the forest when they found their first zombies. Normally, the team would have just quietly dispatched the four zombies. The suppressed MP5/10’s each carried would have done the job easily without alerting any other zombies nearby. Killing every zombie between the team and the minion sounded good, but had one major drawback – ammo. Slim, Sport, and Quentin only carried ten spare magazines each for their MP5’s. Three hundred and thirty rounds of 10mm sounded like a lot, but it would go fast if they had to fight off a sizable piece of the horde. So each man was covered in Nasty Stuff.

Nasty Stuff was the latest brainchild of the same lab that developed the ZKC and the armor the team used. It was a foul smelling goop designed to hide the user’s human scent from a zombie. The team braced with their weapons ready. If this worked, they shouldn’t have any problems breaking through. If it didn’t Slim was saving his last bit of ammo for himself. His corpse wasn’t going to be used against his friends and colleagues. The zombies shambled by, completely oblivious to the three team members. Slim let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Sensing the others eyes on him, Slim pointed to the edge of the forest and slowly crept through the trees. In less than ten minutes, the three were through the line of zombies. Slim paused for a moment to locate their target. The tight-packed group of zombies was easy to spot.

Slim, Sport, and Quentin moved in with a predatory stalk. Three hundred against three weren’t good odds, but the team had one of the best tactical advantages – surprise. The team crept to less than twenty yards from the edge of the zombie pack. Slim stood to his full height and took aim at the minion. The man was just under six feet and screaming at the zombies in what sounded like German. The minion’s head filled Slim’s scope. With a gentle motion, Slim caressed the trigger.

With impossible speed, the minion yanked one of the zombies into the line of fire. The three bullets made a ragged mess of the zombie’s head before it collapsed to the ground. The minion whirled to face the team. The pack of zombies let out a ragged chorus of hunting moans. Quentin and Sport opened fire, cutting down zombie after zombie as Slim fired twice more at the minion. The first burst sailed harmlessly over the dodging minion. The second cut off the arm of a zombie trying to turn around. Slim ducked as the minion fired back wildly with a pistol. Slim fired again as the minion darted between two of his zombie shields. The two traded fire for what seemed like ten minutes, but was probably less than a minute. The minion made the first mistake. He slipped behind a zombie an instant before the zombie moved away. Slim saw the opening and placed a clean burst into the minion’s chest. Blood and gore shot out of the minion’s back as the three ten millimeter rounds tore ragged chunks out of him. The minion made no sound as he fell to his knees.

"You haven’t won yet," the minion said in strained tones. The minion pulled what looked like a silver die out of his pocket and tossed it. Slim’s eye caught sight of the small metal cube as it arched in the air. Slim was blinded as a bolt of white lightning shot from the cube. As his eyesight cleared, Slim saw several things. The minion was slumped down dead. Sport was on the ground in a fit of violent seizures. Most important, the pack of zombies finished turning around. Slim opened fire as the zombies’ hunting moans echoed through the night.

Washington DC, 26 July 2010, 2015 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Mateo Cortez quickly pulled on the bracers and helmet. There wasn’t time to put on the entire armor set. These would give him some protection. A simple vest went over his casual clothes. Magazines were quickly stuffed into pouches. The M4 felt both foreign and familiar as Mateo picked up the stubby carbine.

"Glass bullets folks," Mateo reminded Jess and Kenn as the two loaded their own carbines. Glass bullets were excellent for use in the close quarters and thin walls of the hotel. They weren’t actually glass, but made from a ceramic that would fragment when they hit a solid object. Most importantly, they wouldn’t penetrate through the walls of the hotel. Now, Mateo could only hope that the other people in the hotel were smart enough to stay in their rooms and not get in the way. Looking back, Mateo saw Special Agent Tredegar standing in front of the door to the bathroom with a shotgun and a determined look on his face. That man wouldn’t let a zombie come close to Mercedes.

Mateo nodded to Jess and Kenn. With practiced ease, Jess opened the door as Mateo and Kenn strode through. Six zombies clustered around the elevators. From the looks of it, they managed to catch one of the other guests as the poor fellow stepped out of the elevator. Mateo placed a hammer pair at the nearest zombie. Even suppressed, the weapon thundered in the hall. Kenn followed suit. Within seconds, the six zombies were dispatched. Joined by Jess, the three zombie hunters moved to the unmoving corpses. The fallen guest snarled at the trio as they neared and struggled to reach out to them. Mateo felt sorry for the man to have his life ended so horrifically. With sadness, Mateo placed a single round between the new zombie’s eyes.

"Matt, they’re all wearing the same shirt," Jess noted as she examined the corpses. She was right. Something about the shirts were tingling something in the back of his mind. Some detail he wasn’t putting together.

"Saw a bunch of those in the lobby," Kenn said, "I think someone was having a family reunion." The realization hit Mateo like a hammer.

"Yeah, in the big ballroom downstairs," Mateo said. The three traded looks for a brief moment. There was no hesitation as the three bounded the stairs. They could hear the screams mixed with the hunting moans echoing through the stairwell. The sounds urged the trio on.

"Let’s keep it simple," Mateo said as they neared the first floor, "Sweep and clear. Stay together. Try not to shoot anything that’s not a zombie." He didn’t wait to hear their agreement as he kicked open the door. Two zombies were caught by the door. Mateo shot them both as they rolled on the ground. Kenn emerged next, quickly picking off a half-dozen zombies before coming up next to Mateo. Jess matched Kenn’s kills as she flanked Mateo. Kenn and Jess gave Mateo a few seconds to survey the scene. There were another twenty zombies in hotel lobby, most feasting on hotel patrons who didn’t manage to run away. More zombies were coming out of the hotel ballroom. That was definitely the source of the outbreak.

"Clear the lobby and see if we can push them back into the ballroom," Mateo said. Jess led off this time, moving towards the main entrance. They needed to clear an escape route for anyone trapped in the lobby. Mateo followed his foster daughter with Kenn covering their rear. It was methodical and efficient. Scan, find, and kill. Rinse, repeat. Pause for a moment to change a magazine and continue. The biggest problem was the panicking people. In their minds, zombies were terrifying enough. Now, there were armed gunmen opening fire. The patrons darted across the lobby in a desperate attempt to find someplace safe. Mateo winced as one of the guests jumped in front of his line of fire and took a graze to the shoulder.

Within minutes, the trio was advancing on the zombies coming out of the ballroom. The zombies fell as steadily from the continuous and almost rhythmic fire from the zombie hunters. The doorway of the ballroom made a perfect bottleneck. The three zombie hunters formed a line some forty feet from the entrance to the ballroom and let the zombie horde impale itself on their wall of fire. The battle was over quickly. Then came the hard part. The three zombie hunters and some hotel staff worked their way floor by floor to evacuate the hotel guests and search for any zombies that managed to find their way upstairs. It was stressful and time consuming. Mateo heard the arrival of police and fire rescue, but he just concentrated on the task at hand. Once the last guest was evacuated, Mateo and his team made their way to the waiting police. Tredegar met them in the lobby with a dozen or so Metro police officers. The FBI agent had things under control. Mateo allowed himself to relax a bit. Everyone walked out of the hotel where guests were being treated by a fleet of paramedics and fire rescue personnel.

"Daddy, Sissy!" screamed an upset Mercedes. She wriggled out of Robyn’s arms and sprinted to Mateo and Jess. A policeman moved to grab the running five-year-old. Kenn slid in between and fended off the officer as Mateo scooped up his daughter. He just wanted a moment to feel his daughter before he started hunting down Ted and rescuing his ex-wife.

The rifle shot snapped Mateo’s eyes away from Mercedes. The police officer and Kenn were on the ground with blood leaking from both of him. Then he felt a warm stickiness in his hands. Terror clenched him as he looked at his little daughter. She was soaked with blood.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 49