The Dead World Ch. 16

Oz had hoped they'd have been able to locate a vehicle and install them with the Firebird for backup and assistance, but no such luck would come now that their mission had been compromised. The noisy classic car would draw far too much attention and while it would be helpful to have in the event they came across their unfriendly neighbors to have a quick escape, shooting it out would be a lot smarter than fleeing and leading them back to the resort. Such a small number of scouters weren't meant for an attack, they were a recon team. The hostile party would probably try to rush off the moment they were spotted.

"Got it, Boss. We're gonna go 'round wide, try an' avoid the spots that'll look obvious fer someone to hide out." Slash nodded, and moved to swing the garage door up, greeted by a far heavier gathering of the dead, who had noticed their presence... they smelled them through the rain, and steel.

With a low growl, Slash planted a swift kick to the chest of the nearest reeking corpse, causing those in its vicinity to topple right along with it. The gathering of reanimates hissed their ravenous displeasure and swelled like a disturbed hornet's nest. It cleared enough space for the men to push through, the heavy packs on their backs containing precious cargo all the heavier when faced with the now slow falling rain.

The pair of men made their way rapidly around the far end of the wide gate, dodging the clusters of clambering, reanimated corpses, trying to grab hold of them as they hurried from the area. With the rain flowing heavily, they had to be mindful of their steps. Too many tracks would put them at a disadvantage, and they would not have time to go back and cover them... They'd have to pray the rain stayed strong enough to saturate the mud and do them the favor of removing the evidence of their presence.

Wandering the forests in the dim-lighting with heavy rainfall wasn't the difficult part. The groaning, snarling monsters lurking in the dark were the threat here. It was hard to see them and as they wove through the barren trees and dead winter foliage. They drew attention. It wasn't long before a trail of the reanimates were stumbling along after them, and all the monstrous beings nearby were drawn to the death march of the ravenous corpses seeking sustenance.

It felt like well over an hour when the appearance of old, overgrown houses broke through the trees. They crossed over a road littered with vehicles--many of them military units. It was familiar enough, but still too close to home... Just up ahead, they could see the military barricade within' eyeshot as the sky continued to grow lighter. Dripping wet now and eager to be done with it did not mean to be careless... they'd be wise to keep west, and that was precisely what they did.

The presence of the dead was far heavier in the area. Both men remained wordless and quick on their feet. These corpses were at advanced stages of decomposition. They couldn't see or hear well anymore, but they could smell them through the open, rotting flesh exposing the place their noses had been upon their faces; their jaws hung ajar, hissing and snapping at the scent of sweat and blood and living flesh as the men swept through the area.

Oz adjusted the backpack and left the Smith and Wesson 617 tucked safely away. The heavy, powerful revolver would only be drawn in the most serious of cases. Slash led the way through the trees, and they emerged soon after the brink of dawn at the far end of the road leading to the small town. The military vehicles lining the road were plentiful and appeared well supplied; evidence of awaiting a procession for evacuation that never happened. The outbreak in the safe zone had spread too quickly. The unfortunate loss of life was only for their benefit. Slash swept through the graveyard of vehicles, eagerly seeking one unit to match the batteries they carried. He'd consider it a gift from God if the keys were available. Hot-wiring a Humvee wasn't the easiest thing in the world to do, and it was precious time that he didn't want to waste.

"This one 'ere... same model, M1152A1. Fuck, we got lucky. Somebody upstairs is watchin' out fer us..." The Humvee they had taken from halfway across the country years ago was one such that had been moved into retirement, it was old and worn, but Slash assumed that in the desperation of the early days of the end of the world the Feds did any and everything they could to maintain control. This was the same model, yes, but it was in far better condition. "It's got the keys. Let's get 'er done."

The gathering of the dead slowly emerging from the trees pulled the attention of both men, and Slash scowled, moving rapidly to lift the hood of the vehicle and lower the backpack from his shoulders. Oz followed suit before stretching his toned arms over his head once he had done so. "I'll play crowd control."

"Careful, Bossman. Lotsa 'em. I come back without ya an' lil' brother's gonna put a bullet in my fuckin' head, no questions..." Ricky's dry amusement to those words held seriousness. He hurriedly fished tools required for removing the dead batteries from the HMMWV as Oz moved to the cargo bay of the unit and rifled through the weapons there. He happened upon a long sheath buried beneath the machine guns and assault rifles, nodding to himself as he drew it from beneath the clustered rifles and hopped down from the back of the transport.

The rain was slowing. They'd see no sunrise through the thick, dark clouds... but what Oz could see was the rapidly multiplying numbers of the dead slowly weaving their way toward the vehicles from the treeline, and off he went. The presence of a living being among them drew them like flies, away from Slash diligently working on trying to get the vehicle up and running. His broad palm closed around the hilt of the machete, drawing the weapon from its sheath.

Oz drew the dark bandana up over his face to protect him from inhaling the stagnant droplets of coagulated infected blood, and from there he started hacking. Leading the reanimates into the herded cars clustered was easy enough. He utilized the advantage of being able to climb up and over the vehicles with ease and sever heads rapidly from a higher vantage point as he went. There were so many now. Too many to fucking count. It seemed for every ten he dispatched, twenty more came dragging themselves from the forest.

Some thirty or forty deep Oz felt his muscles burning. Wiping sweat and rain from his face onto his dampened sleeve, he pushed back the lengthened jet and silver strands of his hair before he switched to his less dominant left hand. Drawing the growing horde of the dead further down the two-lane highway had taken him farther from Slash but had insured that not only would the carnage be easy to overlook by anyone passing by, it kept the horde distracted and gave the man time to work. The task had always been monotonous, clearing the corpses. There seemed more lively, still human-looking reanimates in the crowded gathering than older, rotted corpses of skin and bone. The various stages of decomposition suggested that some of these might have been survivors passing through a few months ago... it didn't paint a good look for their hostile neighbors.

He was alerted at once to a low call of the loon. Slash cupped his hands over his mouth and let the sound echo, their most common unspoken signal to call back their group in most cases of separation, and at that Oz slid over the roof of a car to keep the horde focused in the opposite direction. He crouched low once he hit the ground and moved mindfully between the vehicles, not wanting to distract any of them or draw them back as he swiftly returned to find Slash securing the canopy top over the cover bows in the back cargo bay.

Once done, Slash dropped back into the driver's seat and pushed the key into the ignition. The mechanic smoothed back his soaked blonde locks and grinned as Oz moved to flop unceremoniously into the seat beside him, thoroughly exhausted from their early and extremely trying morning at this point. The key turned, and with a stutter, the vehicle lurched to life.

"Shit, if we ain't get fuckin' lucky Oz, don't doubt it ain't gonna fuckin' happen like this again... let's get the fuck back and pray we still got the element of surprise on our side when we get the fuck outta here." He put the transport into gear and started slowly down the overgrown median, mowing through the clusters of reanimates still shuffling from the dark, dead forest to the left of them. There would be no taking the easy way through. Keeping west and going down and around was their smartest bet. If anyone happened upon the mess they left behind, they'd be headed in the wrong direction.

The rain grew heavier as the HMMWV grew further away; the snarling, groaning croaks of the dead that shuffled aimlessly after the glowing tail lights of the vehicle broke the peace and silence of the world beyond the walls. Ghost watched patiently as the vehicle moved down the side of the road, weaving through the abandoned, rusted cars and rolling over the dead as if it were nothing until it was no longer in his line of vision. From the cover of the overgrown forest to the right of the road, the young Asian man eyed them with patient and unwavering focus. If the trespassers carried on in that direction, they would inevitably meet at Route 17 not far from the head of Sidney Lanier Bridge... they'd be driving right into Hell if they carried on that way. He had no doubts they had other thoughts in mind, though.

They were going around, likely taking rough back roads to wherever they had come from, if not meaning to dip southwest and head toward one of the smaller outskirt towns. The dark almond-shaped eyes of the young Chinese man blinked away raindrops. He was unfazed by the weather. He had left the quad farther back near the border of the coast guard safe zone town and doubled back on foot on pure speculation that there was more to investigate in this area. It had been the source of all the trouble lately, after all. He knew now that his suspicions had not been wrong.

The shifting of feet behind him directed him to draw his hunting blade with smooth and soundless skill. Ghost turned just in time to face the rotting corpse advancing upon him, sinking the blade with skillful and calm indifference into the temple of the corpse, before placing a gloved hand against its exposed breast bone and giving just enough pressure to allow the still reanimate to slide free from the weapon.

He cleaned the blade rapidly and returned it to his sheath before drawing the radio from his back pocket, and slowly sliding the stark white fox mask pushed up atop his head down over his young, nearly androgynous face. He brought the radio up and held the button. His heavily accented voice delivered a single quiet statement of confirmation to his cohort abroad. "Eyes on."

Taking the Humvee directly over the bridge to park it out front of the resort would've been asinine now that they had seen their enemies canvassing the area with their own eyes. Slash and Oz made their way further down from the bridge beyond the resort and the surrounding hotels to the southernmost point of the island. The structures there were few and far between; storing the military transport safely in the back of an exceptionally sprawling untouched estate would keep it out of sight and mind of any potential company snooping around the island.

Both men felt fortunate they had not seen or encountered the scouts combing through the area on their way back. The mile walk back to the hotel in the still falling rain was a small price to pay for security and peace of mind. The vehicle would be there when they needed it most. There was an exceptional amount of ground for the hostiles to cover, even on four-wheelers.

There were fifteen miles from the coast guard safe zone to the bridge of Jekyll Island. It was an incredible distance, with small motels, fuel stations and ample homes littering the abandoned coastal paradise from there to the island town. The hostiles would be hard pressed to pin down their origin point without making visual of them on the move, especially in the rain, with the thickening presence of reanimated dead clustering into the forests and over the roadways now. They made their way back to the resort without any unfortunate disturbances, aside from the promise of Oz to continue their earlier conversation when they were dry and preferably in better, well-rested moods.

It was nearing sundown when Skully summoned everyone to the lobby. Within the hour, they were all in attendance, gathered in their usual places around the resort's grand entrance hall. Slash perched on the welcome desk. His pale green gaze was set on the switchblade in his hands, casually flipping the knife opened and closed with practiced focus. His lengthy blonde hair had been pulled back and away from his face into a knot by the usual thin black band, the disorganized length teasing down his neck and shoulders.

Ruthless positioned himself near the wide doors. He held the semi-automatic rifle in his broad, muscular arms, the barrel angled toward the floor. The tall, formidable blonde Russian had not left his room again without it since the brothers had fallen out, for good measure. Diablo had taken a place in one of the armchairs toward the center of the room around the remains of the coffee table the brothers had destroyed in their fight.

The tan-skinned Latino medic looked troubled and worse for the wear. He combed a hand back through his loose, dark brown locks. His thoughts seemed to travel off elsewhere as he waited impatiently for the remainder of their party to gather. Just across from him rested Dog, who draped himself over the adjacent chair with his long legs kicked leisurely over the armrest, and his attention absorbed in a small pad of paper he was aimlessly doodling on.

Charlie's goggles pushed back the long strands from the front of his face, and every now and then he would glance up to Skully standing aside Slash at the front desk. His hazel gaze caught the older man's piercing blue gaze as he observed him in wordless scrutiny, before Dog's eyes dropped back down to the paper and he pushed the tenseness of their wordless exchange to the back of his thoughts.

Charlotte had made her appearance just before Oz. When she emerged from the end of the hall after descending the stairs, all eyes were drawn to her, causing a twist of discomfort to rise in the pit of her stomach. Dove spurned the more elegant feminine styles the group leader had left in her room for her once again. She favored her worn jeans, and her laced black boots paired with the simple albeit revealing t-shirts that had been offered. She wouldn't be caught dead in any dress Skully left for her.

She'd have much preferred something less skin-tight; something long sleeved and loose to hide under. She had taken to wearing a bra beneath the thin material of a dark v-cut shirt now that she had been offered one, despite her disdain for the feathery feel of lace and the push-up style that forced her cleavage to perk up. She really hated accenting her womanly assets now more than ever. Her long hair was damp and loosely braided over her right shoulder. She looked significantly less irate than she typically did, but still uncomfortable...

Diablo looked away from her shyly. Dog couldn't stop himself from staring at her. Ruthless turned his back on them all to peer through the wide glass doors of the front entrance. She dared not glance at Slash, or Skully...

She preferred not to note their reactions to her presence as she moved quietly to take a seat in one of the armchairs circled around the destroyed coffee table in the center of the room. Across from her, a fleeting smile tugged at the lips of the youngest member of the group and tempted a mirror of the expression to her mouth, before Dog carefully focused back upon the paper as to not pull any attention to the subtle fondness shared between them.

Oz emerged from his room and joined them at last. He stood just in the head of the west hall, looking no less tired than he usually did. He hadn't much time to unwind when they returned from replacing their most valuable asset, but he felt significantly better in clean, dry clothes. The unruly length of his salt-and-pepper locks had been combed back and temporarily tamed. He hadn't shaved, not since he had arrived, and was now sporting a thickening beard and mustache because of it. He crossed his strong arms over his broad chest and leaned against the wall, nodding to Skully to begin.

"We're shutting the generator down in one hour. The remaining drum will be put into getting us upstate, hopefully into the Carolinas, before we have to stop and salvage fuel," Skully began, his deep voice firm and even-tempered. The mixed reactions were to be expected. "One hour. Gather what sources of light you can find and enjoy the hot water while you can. Get set with extra padding for warmth going forward... It's gonna get cold."

The men were silent, but slow nods of understanding and confirmation made their way around. Dove set her eyes on the velvety carpeted floor with nervous uncertainty, her tongue teasing over her full lips in her anxiety.

"Oz has been granted leniency. He and Slash went out to the safe zone and, by the grace of fuckin' God, recovered a Humvee. So we're on schedule. It's midweek by my count. Three more days before we pack it up... and only because our fuckin' neighbors have finally made their way to our backyard. So nobody leaves until we all do, understood? We're going to have one shot at this, and only one... if anyone gets caught out, you give away our position and you fuck all of us. Got it?" Skully's deadly tone of voice suggested he would not be undermined by this direction. His eyes shifted over the men, and lingered particularly on Dog, who nodded his head in silence.

"Sweep the hotel tomorrow one final time for anything of use out on the road. Blankets, provisions, whatever you can find here that we can use... see that it's in this lobby and ready for transport." He pushed away from the desk and moved forward toward the gathering of the group in the center of the room. Dove tensed visibly as he stood before them, his eyes shifting slowly between her, Diablo, and Dog. A cool smirk tugged at the edges of his full mouth, and he spread his gloved hands before them.

"Any grievances? Now's the time to speak up."

There was silence and stillness in the room. Charlotte averted her eyes uncomfortably in response to the almost provocative statement Skully made to the group. His eyes swept the room from one man to the next, and not a soul dared to speak up. Oz glared at him pointedly from his place across the way, leaning against the wall. He said nothing; not yet. Now was not the time... but soon, yes... very soon. Once they were out of the path of immediate danger, he would have quite a bit more to say to his younger brother about it all.

"Rendezvous three days out, 2100 hours... Dismissed."

The men slowly broke off and, one by one, made their way for their personal tasks. Diablo was first to vacate the area. Not wasting time to linger in the tension, he headed for his room and closed the door quietly behind him. Oz stood there against the wall, waiting for Charlotte to move to stand and quietly make her way down the western wing before he turned his back on the gathering and trailed along at a distance behind her. He did it for good measure; he watched her disappear into the stairwell, far too eager to put distance between herself and the leaders of the group. She was thankful that Oscar had not rushed off before she could safely clear the area.