As soon as the bomb went off, Jerrod opened the gate on the horse trailer and watched as the rest of the zombies surged towards the road. So far without fail every caravan except for this one had stopped immediately to help their traveling companions. The walkers proved to be the perfect way to find out if they were armed, or how much fight they had in them.
Jerrod was giddy with excitement as he climbed down from his tree stand. This was the sixth time they had staged an ambush on this highway, never in the same place though and each time the outcome had been different. Sometimes there were women survivors. That was what Jerrod hoped for this morning. It reminded him of Christmas because Randall Trask, his mentor and former employer, let him keep some of the spoils gained from their exploits. That’s also how Jerrod got his very first lay and the AR-15 he now carried. He was hooked after his first ambush. As grateful to Randall that he was, it would only be a matter of time before the government would regroup and start to restore order. After the infection was sorted out and all of the walking dead were dispatched they would come calling. This, Jerrod was certain of.
Before the outbreak he had worked for Mr. Trask at his gun store. Eventually he wanted to join the Navy SEALs and become a sniper. Now his only goal was to take some ill-begotten supplies and hopefully a girl back to his dad’s compound up North. There was no way Jerrod was going to stick around. When the United States military came looking for their missing soldiers, he would be long gone.
From a safe distance he watched the zombies attack the two people in the small red car. The other ghouls were a sight to see as they tried to get to the remains of the driver in the Bronco. Smart ass racist that he was, Jerrod said out loud, “Donner, party of five. Will we be having white meat or dark?” He laughed like a maniac at his own joke while the black kid and white girl were dying. Jerrod’s comrades climbed down from their tree stands and cautiously edged towards the highway.
Trask had appointed Jerrod the official zombie wrangler, even going so far as to try to convince him it was a prestigious posting. This was a dangerous job but Jerrod was used to the dog catcher’s pole. On the user’s end there was another loop of wire that had to be pulled to tighten the noose. It was very effective and it kept the undead out of biting range. The other men helped prod the infected in the direction of their makeshift pen. If the world ever returned to something that resembled normal, at least Jerrod had found his calling. He figured he would make a hell of an animal control officer.
While Jerrod hurriedly locked the horse trailer, the other men pulled Rawley’s headless body from the Bronco and started a thorough search. One of the attackers let out a wild rebel yell and held up the SKS carbine, showing off his prize to the others and then rattling off twenty rounds into Rawley’s headless corpse.
Hearing the distant gunfire, Cade grabbed his M4 and sought cover off of the road. Duncan drove his truck into a copse of trees. He and Harry joined Cade inside of the tree line. There, the three discussed their next move.
Cade would go it alone. He could move faster and quieter that way. First he wanted to get info on the size of force they were dealing with. If the opportunity presented itself he would kill as many as of them as possible. The ruthless way these fuckers operated had turned this into a personal vendetta for him.
Harry and Duncan would stay behind with the vehicles and keep in contact with Cade on the hour. It was decided that if he failed to make radio contact two times in a row, they would leave the keys to the Sequoia on a predetermined tree branch nearby and then continue on in Duncan’s truck.
Cade extracted the long canvas bag from the back of the Sequoia; he removed his ballistic vest and knee pads, and then swapped his Blazers cap for the flat black, low profile, tactical Kevlar helmet. Cade randomly applied camouflage paint to his face and neck. Lastly he extracted his Remington Modular Sniper Rifle from the bag. The gun was chambered in .338 Lapua Magnum and had a magazine that held ten rounds. It was very easy to carry with the stock folded and the suppressor removed. Cade slung the weapon over his shoulder and picked up his trusty M4.
“Stay frosty,” was all he said before he slipped into the thicket of trees bordering the road and stealthily padded in the direction they had come from.
Hunkered down, he watched from cover as the four attackers looted the food, weapons and anything of value from the Bronco.
The VW was still burning with the bodies of Leo and Sheila inside. Their blackened corpses were frozen in death and still appeared to be wrestling with the now molten seatbelts.
The Bronco leaned on two flat tires, both on the passenger side. After dragging Rawley’s headless body off of the road, one of the men started the Bronco and used it to push the blackened hulk of steel, which used to resemble a car, off of the asphalt. He then drove the useless SUV into the trees and abandoned it there.
It appeared the attackers were getting ready to bug out. Like a ghost, Cade silently moved through the trees, his head constantly scanning, the lethal carbine held at low ready.
Harry stayed concealed, cradling the Mossberg and trying to remain alert. Duncan was on the other side of the median armed with his shotgun. They would be waiting for Cade to make contact, every hour on the hour, either by voice or with two microphone clicks if he couldn’t respond verbally.