Freedom turned to check on me. I saw his face shift. I looked to see what he was seeing.
The exes had figured out the way around the wall of cars. That’s too generous. Don’t want to over-estimate the enemy. They’d figured out a way around the same way water figures out how to get out of the sink when you leave the tap running. They just started spilling off the road and into the fields on the south side of the road. It had been a couple dozen when I first looked. It was a hundred, easy, already. Just like a sink.
Section Thirty-one was closest to that flank. They were laying down fire while Twelve moved back in to give them some support. I could see a couple of them twitching and called out a stand your ground to Sergeant Boyle of Thirty-one.
Then someone in the section flipped their rifle to burst. I saw the chest of one dead man ripple just below its neck. The next burst came a moment later. It was a little higher and tore through the corpse’s neck. Its head hung by a flap of skin and muscle for a few seconds and then tore loose. The zombie fell over.
“Unbreakable Thirty-one,” I said, “this is Seven. Controlled burst only.”
Another burst of fire from Thirty-one. And another. Section Twelve was in position and now they were firing big, long bursts from their Bravos.
“Unbreakables Thirty-one and Twelve, this is Seven. Single shot only. Boyle, Washington, get your soldiers under control.” I tried to map another path across the abandoned cars, then saw Freedom was already heading that way with most of Eleven.
Then I made my mistake. I jumped for the SUV, then to the station wagon. At the second minivan, though, I switched course. I cut across to a pickup. Then up onto a different SUV. From there to a Volkswagen. I needed to get back to Freedom before he did anything foolish. Officers are good at that sometimes. No offense to any officers reading this.
I shouldn’t’ve changed the plan. I don’t know what made me do it. Deciding to change objectives in the middle of the plan is stupid. It gets people killed.
A hand grabbed my ankle on the Volkswagen. I yanked out of instinct. Out of training. It threw me off. My next leap landed me right in the middle of a good-sized group of exes. They were so focused on Twelve they didn’t notice me. I was on my feet and pushing through them in a second.
Then they grabbed me from behind.
I slogged forward, trying to get as far away from those dead things as I could. Their skin’s like old paper. Gives me the creeps. Two of them dropped off while I ran. One hung on and ran straight into the butt of Sgt. Washington’s Bravo. The front of its skull just caved in.
Exes were overwhelming our flank. Section Thirty-one had gotten it under control with Freedom there, but they’d let the corpses get too close. It was turning into a close quarters fight, and that’s not where you want to be with these things.
I charged in to get by the captain. He’d pulled out Lady Liberty, that monster sidearm he’d made from an AA-12, and was turning skulls into mush. Washington’s soldiers were using their Bravos like clubs. I saw a few heads go flying.
Someone from Thirty-one screamed. Specialist Richards. One of the last ones to wash out of the program. She’d been bitten on the hand, right through her glove. A corporal reached to pull her back. He got grabbed himself. Half a dozen hands latched on and pulled him into the crowd of exes. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him screaming. Freedom fought his way there. By the time he made it he was too late.
I shattered an ex’s knee with my boot and broke its neck as it spun to the ground. Lady Liberty’s drum was empty, so Freedom was using those big hams he called fists, throwing punches that’d put any prizefighter to shame. He broke necks and cracked skulls with every one.
A call came from Unbreakable Twenty-seven, Sergeant Johnson. All other squads had embarked and they were pulling up transport for us. Five minutes of fighting later and we were all in or on a Humvee.
We’d barely made it a mile past the city limits. We’d lost eleven soldiers. Eight Real Men, three supers. Half our ammo was gone. Freedom called the retreat and it killed him to say it. You could see it on his face.
Of course, we weren’t even halfway back and I started feeling sick. Tried to ignore it but Freedom took a good look at me and called up Franklin, the medic from Eleven. He gave me a good once-over. He found the scrape on the back of my neck, right between the collar and the back of my helmet. Teeth marks. Shallow ones. Just deep enough to draw blood. I’d been so amped up I hadn’t felt a thing.