Anno Viventes Mortuae Ch. 02

It took Draga a second to realize he was talking to her - using her last name. She scrambled up and stood by uncertainly. Leer handed her the binos and directed her to lean forward across the roof of the cab. She rested her elbows on the hot metal of the roof and set about focusing on the zombie-type down range. After taking a moment to settle into the position she spoke up.

"Go."

He must have been ready and waiting. It seemed the rifle cracked deafeningly almost before she had finished speaking. Before it had registered she saw the side of the targets head burst. A spray of blood and brain erupted and dissipated in the breeze. Dragas brow knit as she watched the thing stagger sideways one step before dropping.

She opened her mouth to say 'Good shot', but her breath caught in her throat. The zombie had risen back into view, ruined head and all. There were bits of what Draga could only imagine was brain matter clinging to the things bloody shoulder.

"Oh, fuck me." she murmured in a sort of disgusted awe.

"That was a hit." Leer said darkly.

"Yeah. This didn't happen in the movies." Draga couldn't seem to pull her gaze from the gruesome spectacle.

"By volume then." Leer declared with a ring of finality to his voice.

Draga dropped the binos and clapped her hands over her ears as Leer put a half dozen rounds down range. The bullets stitched up from the center of the things chest to it's neck and head. There wasn't much neck or head left when the thing dropped this time.

Draga looked over at Leer, removing her hands from her ears.

"Think you got him that time?" she asked sarcastically.

"When in doubt..." Leer replied. He leaned toward Warrens window. "Note for future reference: single head-shot may not suffice. Overkill is advised." He checked that Draga had settled in and slapped the roof twice and slid back down to sit next to her.

"You heard the man," Warren said to Maria as he resumed the tedious task of muscling the truck onward. "Aim for the head and don't be stingy."

Leer found a particular Alice pack and withdrew a package of simple white safety masks. The kind that covered the mouth and nose, protecting against wood dust or soot. He held one out to Draga, then put one on himself. He put the rest back, then opened another of the packs outside pockets and pulled out two pairs of sunglasses. Draga examined the pair he handed her. There was soft padding around the perimeter of the lenses that would rest against the face.

When they had both adjusted the masks and glasses on their faces, Leer nodded.

"Not the best fashion statement, but according to the news, the guys in the white coats think this zombie shit is spread by bodily fluid. This," he indicated his mask and glasses, "should keep splatter from getting in the obvious ways. 'Course, it won't help much if one sinks its teeth in. You don't have any open cuts or sores, do you?" While she thought, then looked herself over, Leer shifted gear around until he found a sea bag packed with extra clothes. He ferreted around and came up with a couple pairs of military shooting gloves. He handed one pair to Draga and pulled the other on.

"Probably a little big for you. We can find a better fit when we get to town."

Draga nodded and pulled them on. She had a momentary vision of herself as some sort of mad scientist. Shades and face mask, spiked collar and too-large gloves. She had an urge to hold a hand out, palm up, and say 'scalpel.' Her mind made an associative jump and brought up Dr. Frankenstein from the movies crying 'It's alive!'. Under the circumstances, that ruined it.

She blinked and came back to reality when Leer offered her a bottled water. He made a comment about staying hydrated that reminded her of her father.

Warren hadn't noticed them until he was passing the little red Honda because they were crouching on the other side of it. As he drove by they rose suddenly to turn sharply toward the sound. A quick glance back revealed the reason they hadn't taken notice of the pickups approach sooner. They had been busy mauling the remains of some unfortunate person or persons. He turned his head and barked a warning.

Leer caught sight of the gore soaked quartet and was already turning, rifle coming up to his shoulder, when Warren sounded the warning. The zombies came scrambling between the Honda and the vehicle in front of it, hellbent on reaching these new victims. The truck was still moving, but from fifteen feet Leers first three shots all hit home. The leading zombies head disintegrated, spraying the one behind it with bone and brain.

The spray of grey matter apparently blinded the next in line, which tripped over and fell on the first. The two behind carelessly trampled over their comrade in their urgent pursuit of the truck. They made it out from between vehicles and put on a frightening turn of speed.

It was at this inopportune moment that Warren came to an impasse. He didn't dare try to nudge vehicles aside with Leer and Draga in the back shooting. Maria was turned around looking out the back windshield, cursing Warren and the abandoned traffic jam and zombies and anything else she could think of.

Dragas heart was racing. There was no ringing in her ears - just a constant tone and the cracking thunder of Leers AK. Everything else was distant and muted. She heard Leers rifle again and watched as holes appeared in the nearest zombies chest. Then its mouth was a bloody mess. Then the top of its head. It toppled in mid stride, actually tumbling a few feet before its momentum died. It stopped only a few feet from the back of the truck.

Draga gritted her teeth She was scared, but she was also becoming angry with herself for sitting there with her thumb up her ass while Leer tried to single-handedly defend them. She took a knee, imitating Leer, pulled the MP5 to her shoulder and sighted hastily. Resigning herself to shoot at another living thing, sort of, she remembered what Leer had said. 'When in doubt...'.

Without really thinking it out, she led the approaching zombie, aiming low, and squeezed the trigger. The thing ran into the stream of bullets. Draga had set the weapon to full automatic. As the zombie came closer the gun rose slightly with each recoil, as she had assumed it would.

What had once been an attractive young woman in a sun dress, now grotesque in its mindless rage and bloodied finery, took eight 9mm Parabellum rounds. It lurched and collapsed, a shattered left knee refusing to support it. It fell next to Leers last kill, still struggling to move forward, before Draga could manage to make a head-shot.

She stood and moved forward to lean over the tailgate. The ghoul-girl was clawing at the printed steel bumper, just beginning to push itself up on it's good leg. Draga barely noticed Leer firing again. She waited, sighting down her sub-machine gun, until the thing was standing, then fired point blank down into its face.

When she made herself let up on the trigger, the thirty round magazine of her weapon was two thirds empty. Looking up she saw that Leer had picked off the zombie that had tripped. Realizing that she was developing tunnel vision she shook her head and scrunched her eyes shut, then looked around. She flinched when Leer clapped her on the shoulder.

"Congratulations. You're not dead." He turned then to speak to Warren.

Draga turned herself and sat on a footlocker to lean over the side of the truck and see what Maria was saying. Maria was sitting in the window, with her legs in the cab and her hands on the roof. She held the sawed off shotgun in her right hand.

"You okay back there, chica?"

Draga smiled uncertainly, still getting over the mix of adrenaline and gun smoke in her head. Maria's voice sounded distant. "Yeah, we're okay." she was unsure how loud she was speaking.

Maria smiled. "It'll get easier, girl, don' worry. Jus' hang tough 'n' listen what the Jar Heads say. You be awright." she said sympathetically.

Draga nodded good naturedly. "Thanks Maria."

Then Maria was sliding back into the cab. Warren gave her a succinct run down of the discussion he had just had with Leer. Maria lit a cigarette while she listened, smoked, nodded.

"You're the experts." somewhat dismissively. Then, "You know I'll follow you." she smiled, teasing him.

"Indeed."

In the back Leer beckoned Draga as he squatted in their olive drab bunker. She sat next to him, swiping at her hair before regarding him expectantly.

"Eject the mag." he hooked a thumb at the MP5 while removing something from a breast pocket of his blouse. When she had done as he said, he took the curved magazine from her and ran a length of orange electric tape around it near the bottom. He then took a fresh, fully loaded mag from a pack and replaced it with the taped magazine.

"Load that. The nine millimeter doesn't have the same stopping or destructive power as something bigger. Better if you don't have to worry about loading a new magazine under pressure. You'll probably notice it's not full by the weight, but if you're in a hurry the tape will remind you. Nothing like coming to the end of your ammunition early to get you killed."

Draga fitted the magazine, rammed it home with the palm of her hand, and slapped the little charging handle with some satisfaction.

"You payed attention. Good." Leer commented. "You should practice doing that when we're not on the move. Same with the Sig."

She pulled her dust mask down over her chin. "Will do... Staff Sergeant, was it?"

"Payed too much attention." Leer spoke over the sound of skidding tires as Warren began pushing forward. "We're going to push on as far as we can, but we'll probably have to ditch the old girl and fall out on foot. When we can't go any further we'll have a good meal, divvy up the gear, and head out." He paused to find a water bottle, pull his dust mask down and drink, then continued. "We'll set you up with the lightest pack, but you'll probably be draggin' ass for a while before you get used to it. Regular aches and pains, we've got aspirin, but if anything chafes or you get hot spots from your shoes rubbing, let me know. We'll slap some moleskin on it or figure something else out. You don't wanna end up hiking with blisters on your feet or raw spots on your back from a pack rubbing. You have any medical issues? Allergies, diabetes, asthma?"

Draga watched with interest the way he unobtrusively but continuously scanned the jumble of vehicles around them while he spoke. She shook her head, brushed at her bangs.

"Nothing that I know of." she replied thoughtfully. "Had my appendix out when I was little."

"One less thing to worry about. While I'm thinking about it, do you have any physical condition that would prevent you walking long distances with a pack?"

She raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Other than having no particular desire to do so?"

He smiled, still not looking at her, but scanning their surroundings. "Yeah, smart-ass. Other than that."

"Nope."

Warren gave up. He sighed, put it in park and killed the engine. He slowly turned his head to look at Maria.

"Last stop."

"Good thing," Maria replied, arching an eyebrow, "You starting to look twitchy, Brujo."

Warren removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, replaced them. Maria started to open her door, paused and glanced back when Warren spoke.

"Gimme a smoke before you go brake the news to the passengers."

Maria fished the half empty pack of Marlboros from her hip pocket and tossed it, along with her lighter, at him before stepping out of the cab.

It was just shy of noon when Warren found their way blocked off by dense lines of vehicles ahead and on both sides. They had passed one more zombie on their way. This time Leer had waited for the monster to approach, then fired three shots. It stayed down.

When Warren left the cab of the truck and walked back he saw that Maria had climbed up into the bed of the truck to talk to the other two. He dropped the tail gate and sat on it.

"This is it." he said, obviously directing it at Leer. "We could backtrack a quarter mile or so in reverse, try another way, maybe get farther. I vote to enact Operation Long Walk."

"Yeah, one small problem."

Warren, cigarette bobbing between his lips, pulled a 'shocked and awed' face. "Just one?"

"Seems Private Grey has no particular desire to march." Leer informed him, apparently in all seriousness.

"Oh, fuck off!" Draga laughed, shoving at Leers legs with one foot.

Even Warren smiled, if a bit wearily. "Alright, give me the Thompson and I'll walk guard duty while you put together lunch and start repacking. I need to stretch my legs."

Leer shifted things around until he came up with Warrens Thompson gun and a bandolier carrying four extra stick magazines for the weapon. He passed both back to Maria who handed them to Warren. He donned the bandolier and walked slowly off toward the front of the truck, machine gun at the ready.

At Leers suggestion they broke up to relieve themselves, none of them straying too far. When they had all returned, they washed up and dug into the food. They passed around a feast of canned food, leaving the MREs to be opened and sorted into the packs they would carry on the road ahead. There were green beans, corn, Bumblebee tuna, Vienna sausages, B&M baked beans, and tomato soup. There was also a can of fruit cocktail, a jar of peanut butter and a box of Ritz crackers.

Leer seemed to eat less than the others, and while the rest were still eating he was sorting through the rest of their gear. When they were finished eating Warren and Maria each enjoyed a leisurely cigarette. Draga was thinking of practicing removing and reloading the magazine in her MP5 when Leer began tossing things at people.

Draga, picking up on a new fashion craze, had left her panties in a hamper that morning in favor of a pair of Leers pt shorts. Otherwise she was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing for three days. She got a camouflage fatigue ensemble to go with the pt shorts. While she preferred jeans, she was happy to change into something clean. While she was rolling up the overlong sleeves of the blouse Leer plopped a garrison cover onto her head.

Leaving Draga to adjust Leer sized cammies for herself, Leer gave Maria a similar treatment. Warren, like Leer, was already decked out in woodland cammies. He stood beside the truck and hauled an Alice pack over and had Leer pass him various articles to pack into it. By the time both women were more or less satisfied with their new clothes the men had packs loaded for them. They also had neat little piles of various and sundry goods intended for their many new pockets.

Maria wore the heavy leather gunbelt from which hung the holster for her .357 as well as a leather sheathed buck knife. The other three snapped on cartridge belts complete with full canteens, and, where possible, the proper magazine pouches. Draga got a machete to hang at her left hip. Warren, who would pass up a demonstration of samurai swordplay for a chance to disassemble a World War One Maxim machine gun, nonetheless had a certain fondness for a huge khukri he had picked up during a visit to Africa.

Maria opted to leave her shotgun in favor of the M-16 they had brought along for her. She didn't have many shells or a holster of any kind for the shotgun anyway. To Leers mild surprise she checked the safety and breach, ejected the magazine and reseated it, all immediately upon receiving the rifle. Well, maybe Warren wasn't all wrong about her, he thought.

Warren shouldered his A-pack, now with rolled foam mat strapped on top and an old military sleeping bag on bottom. He then amused himself by giving Maria some unnecessary help with a similar pack. Leer shrugged into what looked like an over-sized cammo backpack. It held a two liter camelpak bladder, but also had two separate, full sized zippered sections and a number of pockets and loops for web gear on the outside. True to his word he handed Draga what was by far the smallest and lightest pack, another camelpak. This one held 1.5 liters and had just two half size zipper pockets besides the bladder.

"You sure?" she asked Leer. "I mean, I know I'm the smallest, but you guys are carrying like four times what I am."

Leer smiled. "Shh. Speak up and Mr. Murphy might notice. Now turn around."

She looked at him as if he were showing distinct signs of dementia before turning.

He slid the straps of the camelpak off her shoulders and set it on the ground. "I wasn't quite done." he explained as he clipped a buttpack onto the back of her cartridge belt. He helped her with the little military suspenders to help support the belt, then gave her back the camelpack.

He looked her over, grunted. "Not exactly a regulation haircut, not to mention the brightwork needs Brasso. Tuck those bangs up under the cover."

"Try that middle part in English." she said darkly, brushing her hair back and adjusting the slightly overlarge garrison cover.

"Later." he turned away to retrieve his rifle, then walked off around the truck. He spared his pickup a last look, then strode past Warren and Maria.

"Let's go."