Zombie Fallout 14

  Zombie Fallout 14

  The Trembling Path

  Mark Tufo

  Copyright © 2020 by Mark Tufo

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To my wife, even though we’re stuck inside, she hasn’t once, I mean twice, threatened me with physical harm! I love you!

  I want to thank Sheila Shedd my editor, she always brings out the best in these stories.

  Also a hearty thank you to my beta readers, Tiffany Naiman, Amanda Walker and Patti Reilly, you always catch stuff before release and for that I am grateful.

  As always to the men and women of the armed forces, first responders and care givers. All of you are the reasons why this nation is so great.

  And lastly to you my dear readers, thank you for your support. I hope you enjoy the book.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE ONE - CHARLIE

  PROLOGUE TWO – GUNNERY SERGEANT FORSYTH

  1. Mike Journal Entry 1

  2. Mike Journal Entry 2

  3. Mike Journal Entry 3

  4. Mike Journal Entry 4

  5. Rescue

  6. Mike Journal Entry 5

  7. Mike Journal Entry 6

  8. Mike Journal Entry 7

  9. Mike Journal Entry 8

  10. TOMMY and JUSTIN

  11. Mike Journal Entry 9

  12. Mike Journal Entry 10

  13. Mike Journal Entry 11

  14. Mike Journal Entry 12

  15. Tommy

  16. Mike Journal Entry 13

  EPILOGUE - OBSERVATIONS

  About the Author

  Also by Mark Tufo

  Also From DevilDog Press

  People also purchased

  PROLOGUE ONE - CHARLIE

  Charlie Blaylock, along with his wife Laura and fifty others from the Texas Initiative Militia, sat on a hill some two miles away and peered down at the scene laid out before them.

  “You know, Captain, I kind of thought you’d lost your mind when you said we needed to come to Washington state to find some needle in the haystack base,” Staff Sergeant Plankard said.

  Charlie was peering through a pair of powerful binoculars and rolling a piece of hay in his mouth. He put the binoculars down, pulled off his wide-brimmed jungle hat, and grabbed a blue handkerchief from the back of his camouflage pants to wipe his head and brow. His long, dirty blonde hair and full beard were rippling with the breeze. Plankard often thought his leader looked somewhat like the ill-fated Custer. However, unlike that vain, narcissistic man who thought he could do no wrong, Charlie was very thoughtful and weighed out all the input from his advisors before deciding on a plan of action. Intrinsically, he knew his commander would never leave any of them out to dry.

  “And now?” Charlie asked his second in command.

  “The proof is right there in front of us! Now I know you’re crazy,” he said.

  “I loved you the first time we met,” Laura said. She’d grabbed the binoculars and was looking. “Don’t believe you’ve ever purposely lied to me once, the entire time we’ve been married. Having said that, I always thought that story about how something in the Colorado mountains ‘told you’ to come out here after a zombie invasion was likely something dreamt up by your time in the Corps, or maybe out of the various drugs you did before and after, but there it is. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  “Don’t worry my love; I doubted myself right up until this very minute,” Charlie replied.

  “So, you really think Mike, Tracy and the kids are down there?” Laura finally turned away.

  “The base is there; it makes sense that whatever that person said all those years ago is true too.” Charlie put his hat back on.

  “Lovebug?”

  “Laura, you know I’m not a fan of that in front of the team.”

  Plankard turned to the side and coughed, doing his utmost to ignore the exchange.

  “Lovebug?”

  “Yes, Princess.” Charlie looked over to Plankard, who just happened to be checking out the color of his boots.

  “I love Tracy, and I love Mike. I love the fact that you two kept each other alive when you were deployed; all of that means something. But we’re not even sure they’re down there, and God help them if they are…what are we going to do against that?” She pointed her chin at the ten thousand-strong horde of zombies standing just outside the gates to the base.

  “I owe him.”

  “You said that when you brought this expedition up, but you’ve never said why you owe him,” Laura said. She knew something traumatic had happened in Afghanistan all those years ago but Charlie had never once spoken any details about it—not during his waking hours, anyway, though many a night she had been jolted awake as Charlie cried out.

  He wore a tortured expression on his face as he warred between bringing up something he never wanted to relive again and the desire to tell her everything.

  “Could you excuse us, please?” Laura asked of the staff sergeant.

  “Of course, ma’am. Sir,” Plankard said to Charlie as he went back to where the rest of the platoon was.

  “I get that you feel there’s some form of debt owed, and if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to press, and where you go, I go, always. But can you risk the men and women under your command for this? Do they owe him too?”

  “I could ask for volunteers.”

  “My sweet, you know how that’s going to go. Most of those people are Texans and they’ve been under your command for over a year. You’ve personally saved the majority of them at least once. You ask for volunteers and they are going to beat each other up in an effort to be first. You have to ask yourself if that’s fair.”

  “Laura, I’d just as soon go it alone if I thought I was risking lives. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you, and Plankard will flat out refuse to let me go without personnel by my side. So, there’s the quandary. I’m going down there, hell or high water. I’ll be a Marine until the day they lay me down, and we never leave one of ours behind.”

  Laura stood on her toes and kissed him on the lips. “I don’t know why I find your steadfast unwillingness to yield so endearing.”

  “It got you to marry me, didn’t it?”

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. I knew I was going to marry you the first time I met you.”

  “Then why’d you put me through all that?”

  “Wasn’t it worth it?” she smiled.

  “And then some.”

  “I’ll set up a briefing once we get more information from the drones.”

  “Thank you,” Charlie said, though he did not turn to watch her go. “Mike, you’d better be in there, or I’m going to have some serious explaining to do.”

  Two hours later, Charlie, Laura, SSgt. Plankard, and Sergeant Jill Kendall were standing at the back of the Ford F-350. The tailgate was open, and they were looking at a series of high-resolution images shot from the RQ-7 Shadow drone. They had larger craft at their disposal, but this one, with its twenty-foot wingspan, was perfect for transporting. With a range of nearly seven hundred miles, it was an ideal reconnaissance tool.

  “Haven’t seen this many zombies since I left Houston,” Sgt. Kendall said, looking at the laptop.

  “And more coming,” the staff sergeant said. “It’s weird they’re amassing…it’s a lot weirder they’re not doing anything.”

  “It’s like they’re waiting,” Kendall said.

  “Yeah, but for what?” Charlie asked.

&n
bsp; “What we do know is that the personnel down there know about it. They painted our drone but did not fire,” Plankard said.

  “Jesus, Plankard! Why am I just hearing about this now?” Charlie looked up from the computer.

  “I just found out about it, sir. Gimble said he hightailed it out of there as soon as he got the warning.”

  “We know they have capabilities. Do we believe they can handle this threat on their own?”

  “There is every indication to believe this is a fully functional military base.” He pointed at his schematic. “Here are the guard towers. Aircraft hangars, tanks, and what we think are barracks.”

  “Not only are the zombies waiting, so is the base. Why the stand-off? Makes no sense.” Charlie was stroking his beard as he contemplated.

  “I think it makes perfect sense from the standpoint of Etna,” Laura offered. “The zombies have so far done nothing; why initiate a battle? Let the enemy do that.”

  “You know I normally agree with you, Laura,” Charlie said, “and when I don’t, I say I do anyway. With a normal enemy, I would say absolutely; if they haven’t fired, then don’t start. But zombies…they don’t know any other way. It could be they’re just waiting for reinforcements before they attack. We’ve seen that from them before. They’re waiting for the tactical advantage of numbers. It would make more sense for Etna to deal with the situation they have than the one they must know is coming.”

  Laura moved in closer to the laptop. “Did you see that? Rewind the playback.”

  “Can’t see anything with your head in the way,” Charlie quipped.

  “Too far.” She was referring to the recording. “Right there,” she said after a moment. “Back up and freeze.”

  She highlighted the area she was talking about with a stylus. There was a foot and a half long flash of light.

  “Gunfire,” Plankard said.

  “Could be why they’re not fighting the zombies; they have their own battle going on,” Charlie said. “Shit, Mike. What have you gotten yourself into? Hell. What have you got us into? This changes things.”

  “How so, sir?” Kendall asked.

  “They look capable of dealing with the zombies, but if they’re having a civil war inside, there’s no telling how much time they have.”

  “Charlie, hon, you know Mike’s penchant for authority.”

  “I know Mike’s penchant for those that abuse authority. Plankard, did the drone find a way in?”

  Plankard looked from Laura, who was growing angrier by the minute, to his commander. “Um, yes sir. The northwest corner, the far side from the zombies. It looks the least guarded, as it butts up to a natural zombie barrier, a river. And with whatever is going on, it’s very likely it’s not staffed at all.”

  “Then that’s where we’re going in.” Charlie made sure to avoid eye contact with his wife.

  PROLOGUE TWO – GUNNERY SERGEANT FORSYTH

  “Are you sure you’re reading that right?” Gunnery Sergeant Forsyth asked. He was part of a five-man SEAL team being sent to New York on orders from Colonel Bennington.

  “Not sure how I could have misconstrued,” Major Overland said, holding the unsealed orders folder in his hand. “Even have a picture of the ugly bastard.”

  “We’re traveling across the country to catch a zombie? How does that seem a worthwhile use of resources, sir?” the gunny asked. “And not only that, how are we planning on finding this one particular individual?”

  “If what I’m reading is right, he’ll find us. It would seem he’s self-aware and able to coordinate attacks.”

  “That’s worse. A lot worse,” the gunny said.

  The major agreed. Though he said nothing, he secretly wished the entire squad had gone on this mission instead of just the five of them. “We touch down in an hour. I’ll brief everyone on the mission parameters and then I want you and them to go through our gear again. I read Lieutenant Talbot’s report; I want to bring as much ammunition as we can pack out.”

  “Are you telling me this mission is based on that crazy-ass Marine’s recommendation?”

  “That crazy-ass Marine recommended dropping a MOAB on the identified zombie designated as Dewey, not picking him up.”

  “A mother of all bombs on New York? I didn’t think that guy was smart enough to be scared of something, and now I’m being forced to agree with him. I feel like it’s going to be a strange day, sir.”

  “Get the squad together.”

  Within two minutes, Overland was explaining the objective. “We have reason to believe our subject is in Bryant Park. We’re going to land twenty clicks away, take the electric bikes in, thus keeping the noise level down. We’ll be west of Hell’s Kitchen.”

  “We taking 42nd?” Corporal Baggelli asked. He had been born and raised in Queens before joining the Navy.

  “Lincoln Tunnel,” Overland responded.

  “Sir, there’s a good chance that thing is underwater without the pumps running, and it’s definitely not going to have any lighting. The tunnel was congested when the city was up and running; can’t even imagine what it looks like now.”

  “That’s the reason we’re not taking a Hummer. Intel has reason to believe 42nd is patrolled,” Overland said.

  “Patrolled by who?” Baggelli asked.

  “Dewey’s zombies.”

  “Sir?”

  “It would appear Dewey is sentient, and the Colonel wants him,” Overland summed up for the corporal.

  “Maybe the colonel should come out and get him himself,” the oldest member of the group replied. Private First-Class William Reed had been a Sergeant three times and busted back down to a private every time. The only reason he’d not been thrown out of the service was he was among the best at his profession. “What? Everyone’s thinking it.”

  “Don’t you ever get sick of being on point?” Baggelli asked him.

  “It keeps me away from your garlic smelling ass.”

  “I’ll make sure you’re downwind.”

  “Reed, you’ll be in possession of the tranq gun; you’ll have to be close to use it,” Major Overland said.

  “Yeah, I’d say ninety feet is pretty close,” Reed replied. “Darting an armed fugitive barricaded in his home is one thing. Getting the leader of a zombie force is going to be another.”

  “That’s why we need to come in quiet and unnoticed,” Overland reiterated.

  A half-hour later, they were on their bikes and heading quickly to the park. Reed in front, Baggelli was bringing up the rear, towing a small trailer to transport their target. In fifteen minutes, they were at the head of the tunnel.

  “Looks like The Price is Right with the three entryways,” Reed said as he straddled his bike.

  “The what?” Baggelli asked.

  “The longest-running gameshow of all time. Weren’t you ever sick and stayed home from school?”

  “Of course.”

  “You never watched it?”

  “When I was younger and stayed home, I played video games. When I was older, not sure what you were doing with your pathetic existence but I was busy with girls.”

  “Show us the right door, Vanna,” Overland said.

  “Oh, that’s funny, sir—just mess with two national treasures. I always liked door number three; that one always seemed to be the best.” He got his bike moving and swung over to the far left lane.

  “Does he not realize three would be on the other side?” the gunny asked.

  “Shit,” Reed said.

  “What’s going on?” Overland asked.

  “I don’t have money for the toll.”

  “You want to tell him number one would be on the right?” Baggelli asked his sergeant.

  “Leave him be. Maybe he’s on to something.”

  “Let us know when you get halfway in; we’ll follow you at that point,” Overland radioed.

  “Roger that, sir. Fifty feet in and the ground is wet. The way is clear, but at the far edges of my headlights, I can see cars.”
<
br />   “Keep it slow and steady,” Overland said.

  Reed wasn’t going more than five miles per hour—he was more walking than riding the electric motorcycle. The farther he went in and moved away from the opening, the more the walls of the tunnel seemed to constrict. Fundamentally, Reed knew this was due to the light, but that did little to appease the feelings of claustrophobia that were forming in his head. He knew the fear was irrational, that he needed to be more concerned with the many genuine threats out there, but when your brother locks you in a vintage travel trunk for over four hours while he’s babysitting you at the tender age of six…well, things like that tend to stick. It mattered little that his brother had been grounded for a month; the damage had been done. Another case where the perpetrator does their time and walks away but the victim is forever scarred, left having to carry the heavy baggage throughout their life. This, in part, was the reason Reed had joined the SEALS, mistakenly believing he would be in the wide-open desert or some equally expansive places. Reed’s boots were splashing down into water; it was now over an inch high. The resultant sound was echoing off the walls, making hearing anything else nearly impossible.

  “The smell is getting bad in here,” Reed reported. “Not the moving dead, not yet.” There was a subtle, yet distinct difference to the smell of the truly dead and deceased and their unliving counterparts. Both were pungent and not something easily ignored, but a corpse had an earthy smell, old and decaying, whereas zombies had a thicker, sharper smell that could bring tears to the eyes. “It’s old—smells like Baggelli’s room.”

  “Fuck you, Reed.”

  “Keep the chatter down.” Overland was tense. He felt like there were eyes on his group. He could detect no sign, but there were plenty of places someone could watch from without being noticed. “Sergeant Kendall, set up a perimeter,” he said to the fifth member of the group and the only female.