They all sat in the basement of the old church in Hvar, staring each other down, or at least staring at each other. Carla and Shelia sat across from each other on the old metal chairs, pulled around in a semi-circle. Carla was quietly sipping a french bottled water and Shelia, was checking her SAT phone every few seconds hoping something would come through adding more light on what had happened in Glasgow. Rick, Utah Blaine, Barett, Psy and Zeus were staring at the intel on the TV then back to the floor where maps and charts were laid out. The Church had been converted into some sort of Museum, but it also had the satellite connections that Rick needed. Several wires ran haphazardly across the floor connected to various pieces of electronic equipment and one humming laptop, piled onto the folding table in the middle of the room. The cool air and slight breeze from a open window on the far side of the room would have made things pleasant, but the tension in the room from the recent events made everything feel a little hot.Carla had know the museum keeper some how and helped them get set up in the basement, while the Museum was closed for some sort of renovation of the roof. They had just settled in, the afternoon heat starting to fade as evening approached. Rick was bent over the laptop typing voracously into it, like he was on some speed typing event. Utah was rehashing what intel they did know, trying to make sure they had covered all their bases, and going over the plan.
" Look we know that Roman has 'Medically Altered Zombies' he plans to use on the boat for some strange reason. That the 'Chirstina O' was going to be a trap seemed obvious, now we know what kind of trap. But Roman will be on that boat, so if it is agreeable to all, Rick and Shelia will take our invite and go onto the boat as guests. They will be wired up so that we can monitor everything from here. Carla will stay back here and relay information out to us. Psy and Zeus will sneak onto the Christina O and do some recon. Barett and I will be on the 'newly acquired Yacht' as back up. "
Utah paused, looking down at the map of the boat and the local island map.
" What we need to do is make contact with Dave and Maria, find out what they are up to and why the two of them are together in such a cozy way."
Rick made a coughing noise.
" Assumed cozy way. at least."
Utah continued, with out even acknowledging Ricks comment.
"Alright then, any other ideas or input ?"
36 comments:
Barett suggested that Carla go with him to back to Stari Grad, to make contact with Dave and Maria, it would be the least confrontational combination.
Everyone agreed and they set out on the motorcycle with one of the two-way radio's that Shelia had brought along, it was dark by now almost 10:30 pm., the shadows and helmets should conceal their identities. Barett made Carla wear the full facial helmet anyway. He had loaded up on weapons before leaving, well at least those that could be carried on a motorcycle without attracting attention, and that wasn't to much. knowing that at any point he may need to fight off several different groups that wanted Carla.
Rick and Utah continued working late into the night planning out the attack options on the Christina O', having obtained some plans off the internet. They debated the problems and logistics with Shelia and the two Macedonians, Psy and Zeus. Tommorrow night was the big party and intel from Shelia showed that before the attack on Glasgow the boat was just off the coast of Dubronivic.
Rick was taking a break from the planning session, walking the halls of the old church in the dark, about 12:45 pm., when he saw multiple shadows move past outside the window down the hall from him. His Zanshin started going crazy and he reached for 9mm in the small of his back, going to a crouch behind a white limestone column. They moved fast and quiet, at least a dozen of them, the shadows seemed familiar to him but he couldn't place where he recognized them from. He didn't think this was a random robbery, his warrior training told him that they were there for one of the group or all of them at least.
Suddenly there was the breaking of glass and four figures jumped through the opening almost at once, well more tumbled in, one right on top of the other. Rick's nostrils caught the scent at the same time his brain remembered. It was the medically altered Zombies from the Paris Park, except these ones were faster, and a bigger group.
Rick ran through the situation, Right now they were between him and the others, blocking the only set of stairs into the basement where Utah and Shelia were. He had a unproven shotgun slung across his back, and another pistol on his ankle. That made for 14 shots of 12 gauge buckshot, 17 rounds of 9mm hollowpoints and 10 rounds of 40 cal. armour piercing rounds in the back-up on his leg.
What does Rick do ?
“Wow Maria! Tu eres más feo que el culo de un mono.” Rick yelled at the four as he got a clean look at them as they clamored in. Translated: You are uglier than the butt of a monkey.
“Come eat some . . .”
But before he could finish his taunt the four up and advancing on him like a pack of rabid squirrels with their tails on fire. The only choice Rick had was to fling backwards, just escaping their grasping hands as they rushed him. Their smell sickened him and he had to cover his mouth and nose just to keep bile from coming up.
The second one of the left was a total spaz case and launched its ugly self at Rick who met the incoming freak with four shots from the 9mm right between the eyes. Its head snapped backwards and red sprayed back in four gazers, but the body kept on coming.
Rick grew alarmed as the zombie smashed into him at the same time as he fired off another two rounds. Point blank may not accurately give description the last shot at as the barrel of the 9mm entered the zombies left eye and the bullet erupted out of the back skull cap, spraying gray matter and thick purplish fluid everywhere.
Up close and personal, the stench was even worse.
But he didn’t have time to think about the smell. The other three nightmares were on him. The first one to reach him was a red headed hell cat with three long ugly weeping lesions across her face from right temple to her left jaw. She leaped and Rick emptied his last two 9mm rounds left in the gun into her but it did little to slow her momentum. With teeth bared, she collided into Rick. The two toppled to the wooden floor with a thud. The she-zombie's body was a crazed mass of flaying arms and legs trying to scratch, kick, and mostly bite off Rick’s face.
Rick’s hand quickly shot up and snatched her neck, giving it violent shake sideways. A sickening snap came from her neck. Her kicking and clawing stopped, but the ferocious focus of her white eyes didn’t diminish. Rick lifted and kicked to flip the she-zombie off him. She went somersaulting over him. But as he was still on his back the other two Zombies grabbed his legs and pulled. Their grip was like an iron vise clamp.
Rick was in mid-spring when they graded him and he fell but being a ring-tail cat hybrid wasn’t without merit. He twisted hard and gained his balance to land in a pushup position. The two maniac zombies were trying to take a bite out of his legs like he was bucket-O-fried chicken.
Rick liked his legs. They were one of his best features. Losing them to hungry monsters wasn't in his plans.
He had and advantage over them. Rick had studied hard to master Capoeira. It was more than just a sport. He was a military practitioner of Capoeira Angola, the style closest to the way the old-world black slaves used to fight against their overlord. Being upside down wasn't a problem. It was said of the old quilombo warriors that it took more than one Portuguese dragoon to capture a single warrior, since they would defend themselves with their strangely moving fighting technique. In fact, a governor had declared that "it is harder to defeat a quilombo than the Dutch invaders”.
So Rick was full of sneaky moves. He bucked up on his hands and delivered a malicious and thunderous kick to the head of the zombie holding his right leg. The force of the kick made the nasty thing obligatory to relinquish its hold as it was knocked back for a second. Still inverted and being held tightly by the other zombie, Rick tucked and swung like a pendulum into the monster. It was clueless of what was coming as it tried to bite through his boot. As Rick swung in he pulled out his knife out of his belt whipped it behind the zombie's legs. The knife sliced the backside of both legs of the barefooted zombie, cutting clean through the Achilles tendons, severing the cord that attached calf muscles to the heel, making it impossible for the monster to stand.
The thing, no longer able to stand, crumpled to the ground as Rick spun right-side-up. To his amazement and annoyance, the zombie maintained its iron like grip and continued to gnaw on Rick's boot. The other male zombie he had kicked was coming back at him while the she-devil wild cat, though slower was impossibly up again and screamed a high pitched wale. Similar sounds from multiple mouths throughout the church answered her with the same ear rending, fingernails-on-a-chalkboard call.
“Screw that you ugly gilts!” Rick said.
He kicked hard at the zombie still holding on to him and found he couldn’t shake it off so stepped on his own heel and yanked his foot out of his boot while he pulled out the Kel-Tec shotgun that was strapped to his back.
With no time to act, he used the gun as a club and batted the incoming zombie with an upper swing, taking it in the jaw and knocking it off its feet.
The zombie on the ground with the cut tendons, seeing that the boot was empty turned its attention back at Rick and grabbed at him.
“Gnaw on this!” Rick said and he fired the magnum shell point blank into its upturned ugly face.
The Kel-Tec KSG Jerked slightly in Ricks hand, discharging the magnum buckshot right into the skull and removing the contents all over the backside, the blast taking the hand off the approaching zombie behind it. There was a slight break in the noise, and the scene played out in a slowmotion like feel, as the one with the missing head flopped around on the ground, the female staggered/ran at him right over the top of her fallen commrade. Rick pumped the smooth action on the shotgun, pulled the bullpup stock to his shoulder and fired two shots in short succession right at her head. The purple and gray spray like some gorish fountain, the close range and rapid shots severed the head from the body, leaving it dangling from the back by a few tendons, what was left of it. Rick, jumped up and dodged the falling body as the arms swung randomly in the air at where he once was. Two more shots to the head of the zombie with the missing hand, and it fell to the floor. The bodies were still moving and writhing on the floor, like a pile of bloody worms. But for now the room was clear of fully intact Zombies. Pulling his boot back on he circled wide of the window they just came through. He could hear a steady stream of weapons fire from the basement and the scream of the Banshee like females.
These ones were faster and stronger than the ones he ran into in Paris.
He knew two things right now, there were more than just four of them, and removing the head worked, but that was true of almost everything, it always seemed to work.
He peered out the window to see six more ugly faces peering back at him from the darkness. They screamed a high pitched ear splitting call, that sent a shiver up his spine, only his training and Zanshin keep him from freezing. The call is replied by several discordant ones from inside the church farther away from him.
Right now Rick has two choices, stay and kill the targets outside in front of him, and then hunt down the ones in the chapel, or head down the stairs to Utah and the others and see what they are facing.
What does Rick do ?
10 rounds left in the Kel-Tec shotgun. He loved this gun! Five shots spent and he still had more than most shotguns held. There was not enough rounds to double-tap each ugly, but enough to kill most of them. He still had his 45 too and one more clip for the 9mm if he could find where the gun had gone. He made mental note on how many shots he would have before he need to make his way back into the basement. It was probably best to leave some in reserve incase he had to fight his way down.
Leaning up against a broken window frame, Rick sighted in two zombies, one in front of the other. The Kel-Tec belched out another magnum boom. The face of the first disappeared in a spray of red in the dark grounds. The one behind it was pitched backwards but wasn't down for the count.
“Come on you ugly hore-sons!” Rick yelled as loud as he could to get all the zombies attention. Eager yellow eyes turned to him in one and they rushed the window, climbing over each other and their fallen companion.
“Sh!!@” Rick swore. They were fast.
He fired indiscriminately into the mass of bodies attempting to climb in through the window. The action of the Kel-Tec was smooth and quick. Eight shell casings littered the floor around Rick's feet in lest than 3 seconds.
Rick knew things were under control, but didn't like where things were going, a "tactical retreat" wasn't something he liked. Unlike all the zombie movies they had watched as kids, these things didn't move slow, or act stupid. The real reason was that these guys weren't really dead, but they would be soon.
Rick turned on his heel, tossed a church pew that was againest the wall at the mass of them trying to get in the window and then ran full bore down the stairs to the basement room. The heavy gunfire from where Utah and the others were echoed through the whole building, it was a steady, controlled thump, thump, thump..pause, thump, thump, thump. Three round shots, just like in training at the range. Rick smiled, even the Macedonians were following suit, not losing control, saving ammo. Rick needed to get to his bag, the one with all the ammo in it, and some grenades.
He rounded the corner weapon first only to see the biggest zombie yet. The guy had yellow skin, the thick hair that was covering his whole body worn off in patches, with only a pair of black leather pants on, the dude was down right ugly. He was at least 6'7" and 350 pounds, Rick could smell him from where he skidded to a stop in corner of the hall. The huge guy had Shelia by the ankles and was banging her againest the wall like a rag doll. SHe must have been in the bathroom right here in the hall when things started, the big guy having ripped most of her cloths off her. He had two darts stuck in his neck and forehead, the dart gun lay in pieces on the floor.
Rick looked behind him to see at least four zombies coming down the stairs at him, and the big guy in front of him. There is a snort of recognition as the large yellow zombie looks straight at Rick.
What does Rick do ?
“Hola Senor Pendejo,” Rick said in mock sincerity.
The monstrous zombie didn’t reply. It just stood there, staring at him, holding Shelia like a forgotten toy.
“Why don’t you put the pretty lady down and we dance a few rounds?”
The lips of the zombie curled, revealing a month full of greenish teeth. Its grip on Shelia visibly tightened.
“Yeap. That is was I thought. Anda la puta que te pari.” He cursed the big yellow fellow. (Translation: Why don’t you crawl back into the prostitute that birthed you)
Rick spun on his heels and shot twice at the four incoming zombies behind him that were running at full throttle. They were aimed shots, one each at a head of a zombie. But he didn’t have time to see the effect other than noting two blood mists exploded like a cloud of dyed baker’s flower expanding in the air.
Out of shotgun shells.
He continued to turn, coming full circle and took two giants steps toward the super-zombie, who was advancing now. Rick leaped high into a flip, tucked hard, and then unfolded to lash out a full-on double footed kick into the yellow giant’s throat.
It was like hitting a brickwall, well a old brick wall. Rick bounced a little and rolled to a stop. The Large yellow and dirty gray zombie, part Yak from the smell of him, staggered a little then dropped Shelia and headed straight for Rick. His neck was twisted at a odd angle and Rick quessed that he had broken it, but still the beast moved at him, two of the four zombies from the stairs converged on him at the same time. The Hallway was short and narrow, only 7 feet at the tall points and 4 feet wide, it cornered in a L shape Right next to where He stood. Rick backed up squeezed one shot each to the head of the two smaller zombies then ran a tripping leg swing at the advancing Yak Zombie. Down he went with a sicking thud, his head cracking on the stone floor. Rick slide up on top of him and pulled the Tanto blade he kept in the small of his back out. He was rodeo style on the back of the Yak now, legs around his chest, left arm under his chin, exposing the throat to his razor sharp blade. The Yak almost leap to his feet, throwing Rick back into a wall, while he held tight to his back, they rolled and twisted in the hall. Rick slicing and cutting attempting to remove his head, and keep from being bitten. They Smashed down the hall, and into the second door into the room Utah and the Others were in. THe Yak going in head first.
Three guns came to bear on them as they busted through. Rick dodging on the back of the Yak Zombie, as Utah Blaine pumped two .45 cal shots into its chest. That was enough to distract it and Rick finished removing the head with his knife, tossing it to the corner of the room, A gory mess of blood and body parts littered the room, as the giant slumped to the floor.
Shelia came staggering in, most of her cloths ripped from her body, standing there in just her Bra and Thong panties. Rick rose up and fired two more shots at the advancing zombies behind her, dropping them with head shots, leaving thier bodies writhing on the floor.
Grabbing the gear and reloading the shotgun, they stare at each other.
" What next ?"
Utah muttered under his Breath.
What do they do next ?
Rick looked around at the gray stone walls of the room again, this time with a new perspective. They were in the churches crypt. And he noticed it was death trap if they got overrun as there were no escape routes.
“Nice place to hold up.” He said to Shelia as he helped her to the back wall and sat her down by an ancient tomb of a long forgotten nobleman.
“Rick, I am going to check the nave and the cloister outside to see if there are any more nasty surprises waiting for us.” Utah said as he rose from inspecting the body of the giant zombie. He grabbed his big 45 and turned to the two Macedonian. “Zeus, make yourself useful and come with me. Rick, is she going to be OK?”
Rick grabbed a pen flashlight and attempted to check her eye dilation. Shelia swatted him away.
“I’m fine.” She said with sharpness, and then she got an apologetic look on her face. “Just give me a minute and a blanked to cover up.”
“Shelia’s a tough cookie. She’ll be fine. I don’t see any bites on her.”
“Good, we’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Be careful not to get bit. I would hate to have to blow your head off.”
Utah gave Rick a cocky attitude stance that clearly communicated, ‘Hey, it’s me and there ain’t anyone tougher.’
Psy, the bald Komodo Dragon, looked nervously as Rick covered Sheila's body with a thin sheet. He snorted something inaudible as he continued to load ammunition into different magazines.
“What's bothering you big guy?”
“This necromancer voodoo isn't right.” Psy said in a small worried voice. “Somethings is going to go wrong with those scientist monkeying around and before you know it, there won't be a need for those high-tech bombs anymore. They will just get us with that nasty plague.”
Rick looked over at Psy. “You've seen this before?”
“Yea and it wasn't pretty. Whole town went up in flames at the end.”
“Where was this?” Rick turned to see if Sheila was paying attention. Her eyes clearly showed that this was new to her.
Psy stopped loading and stood as if he was trying hard not to remember something. “Eighteen months back now, out in Old Kazakhstan in a place called Aralsk. Something went wrong and the city was put under total quarantine. They sent us in to clean the place up.” The dragon shuttered at the memory.
“The total population just went insane.”
Meanwhile Barett sat on the bike in the busy street, staring at the Buggati of Dave's. Carla and him had driven around for a few hours from spot to spot before coming upon the parking lot for the Club 'Lavender', a all night high end Disco.
The Island was bigger than he thought, 42 miles long and 6.5 miles wide, it covered an area of 115 square miles, and that was a lot of area to cover searching for someone. They were lucky enough to find the car, but entering the club would be harder. They were not dressed for it and didn't have the cash to fake thier way in.
Carla hopped off the back of the bike and tossed the helmet over to Barett.
" I'll sneak in the back and see if I can find Maria and talk to her ."
Carla smiled at him.
Barett grabbed Carla's arm, and held her back gently.
" You can't go in there alone, like this...too many people want you. We will wait out here for Dave or Maria to leave. I think that will be our best bet, and safer."
Carla smiles sweetly at him again.
"Since when do you boys play safe ?"
She nods back towards the club.
"I know people and the language, the busy club will look less suspicious. Don't worry about me, I had my chance to play it safe, but came here to find Rick, and warn everyone. The trap on the boat is only one part of it all, there are more bombs that will go off, just like I told Rick. We are going to need everyone we can get to stop this before the whole world is thrown into a great and eternal war."
Barett releases her arm.
"just so you know, I do care, about my family and the rest of you. But you are a big girl, do as you wish. Your plan has its own merits. Take this small communicator with you. If it gets hairy, call me, I will wait by the back door for you."
Barett slides the full facial helmet on himself and sits back on the bike, scanning the area, and watching her casually walk right up to the backdoor and in.
Barett didn't like the end of the world talk from Carla. It wasn't that he didn't believe her, it was the fact that what she was saying was true. Having some Biblical like event wasn't going to be a good thing, it would really mess up his future plans. They only had six more months of required duty with the Brits, then a trial probation and if things went well they could all return to the West coast. Barett didn't know if Dave would go with them, but he was sure Utah was ready to return home. Their "Global Eyes" had been opened, and L.A. would always be Home and home base, but staying there all the time, it just wouldn't be the same, and that was ok.
He started the bike up and moved around a little, keeping a eye on the club. A little white on white mini-cooper roled in to the parking lot and Bianca got out, dressed in white leather, skin tight pants, a low cut silk shirt and white pumps. You couldn't miss her as she strutted across the parking lot to the V.I.P entrance. There was something about the way that women moved that made his loins stir, and he was forced to adjust himself. She had the body of a fitness model, long toned legs and flat belly, with perky just the right size breasts. Barett was thinking, having Rick and some extra money to head into the club right now would be a great idea. He knew from past experience that picking up high class women always went much better.
He watched, like many others in the area, her talk her way into the club, flirting shamelessly with the bouncer, it was a show almost worth paying for. After she was gone, he turned on the radio and listened into what Carla was doing. He had left her end of the channel open to recieve but not send so that he could follow what was happening. It wasn't really like he was spying on her, he just liked to be on top of anything that might go down.
He left the bike running on low idle, sitting in a dark alley with a view of the back door and side of the club. It wasn't long before he was listening to Carla talking to Maria.
Barett listened while Carla and Maria talked inside the noisey club bathroom. The whine of the music almost drowned out everything Maria was saying. He only caught the last few bits of the conversation.
" That will work, bring your boyfriend by the boat in the morning for breakfast then."
Carla was saying just loud enough to hear over the music.
" Fine as long as there are fresh pastries and fruit, we will be there. But he doesn't like to many people for breakfast, he likes to eat alone, or only with me. Perhaps you can just send us over a sampling of the dishes and we can decide ? "
Maria was kindly trying to tell Carla that Dave wasn't interested in meeting up with anyone. She seemd to have taken a real personal touch to this one, and Barett worried that it might have developed into something more, something personal, not professional.
The loud music drowned out the rest of the conversation as the bathroom door was constantly opening to the club dance floor. It was really Dave's kind of music, and Barett was thinking that he could hear one of Dave's mixes on the sound system.
He Scanned the parking lot one more time and then went back to listening to the radio. Carla was talking rapidly to someone in a language he didn't understand, the tone seemed friendly enough.
He was watching the clubs parking lot, memorizing the plates on the white mini and, contemplating going in and finding Bianca when the radio started to squelach and crack.
He tried tuning it in but with no luck. Then his zanshin kicked in, and he saw two large delivery trucks pull up to the club. The first backed right up to the front door, running over people standing by the door, and blocked the entrance. The second rolled around to the back vip entrance and backed right up into it blocking the two major entrances and exits of the building. Only the service entrance was left, and four guys from the second truck were heading over to it, and they didn't look right.
The biggest guy walked with a limp, but moved fast, he was tall at least 6'6" and 270 pounds, with thick patchs of yellow fur. He carried a metal looking club and was swinging it wildly in the air. There was a ear splitting screach from one female at the back, then things just went crazy.
Barett Stared for just a second, he had to admit, a Zombie apocalypse was not what he was expecting at this moment. Cyborgs yes, Russian mafia hitmen defineatly, but not Zombies.
From his backpack he pulls out the short barrelled mossberg five shot 12 gauge, and a bandolier of ammo, slapping five rounds of Sabot shot into the gun, checking the tactical light on the pistol foregrip and slipping ten rounds into his pants front pockets, he dismounts from the motorcycle. Tucking the Gurki into his belt in the small of his back while running across the parking lot. He let the years of training and combat experience kick in, no time for complicated A-team type movie plans, just a no non-sense approach to the problem, see zombie, kill zombie, move on.
These zombies didn't act like the ones in the 80's movies he'd seen. They were fast, organized, just as ugly, and probably just as contaigeous, he had no intention of going toe to toe with any of these guys, get Carla, Maria and Dave out of the club and make a safe tactical retreat, that was his only goal. The bouncers and security guys were dead before Barett even got to the building, the back service entrance a bloody pile of limbs and intestines, spread about like a Jackson Pollock painting.
He wasn't concerned about that, the roof was his plan. Running straight at the cargo truck parked in front of the VIP entrance, Barett blinded the driver with the tactical light and placed one shot of 12 gauge solid slug sabot round right into his forehead, ran over the top of the cab and across the cargo area, leaping up to the roof.
He didn't stop to even see if the guy was dead, he would be soon Barett was sure of that, shotgun blasts to the head at close range almost always make that a sure bet.
Five seconds later he was standing over the skylight to the dance floor, from the limited amount of recon that he had done, this was going to be his best bet for entry and exit.
The wide, low pitch red tile roof was open ground, plenty of room to shoot and kill. Kicking in the glass dome, Barett attaches the small climbing rope from his pack into a AC unit on the roof an jumps in Shotgun first.
Back at the church . . .
“What happened?” Sheila asked as she continued to rest against the ancient tomb.
Psy turned. “You ever hear of Voz Island?”
Rick shook his head in the negative.
“You mean Vozrozhdeniya?” Sheila asked, a look of horror creeping on her face.
“Yeah, the very same. It isn’t an island anymore and it’s the most godforsaken outpost on mother earth I ever set my foot. Voz used to be a testing ground for the old Soviet Union's biological weaponization. What they did was horrifying even measured by human standards. If it could kill you, they had it there. Anthrax spores, smallpox, brucellosis, you name it, it was grown, mutated, and stored.”
“And then they abandoned it and left it as a garbage dump from hell when the Union fell apart.” Rick guessed.
“A bioweapons laboratory nightmare left to the elements.” Psy agreed. “We knew about the mess but the problem was mostly ignored and left for someone else to deal with. But then, three years back, a dearth hit the area and inhabitance had to turn to the toxic waters of Lake Aral. Something had mutated out of the refuse from Voz Island and began to spread. First it was the birds and the cats. Then the people started to change.”
“Zombies.” Sheila said, “The walking dead or nearly dead; people just mere shells, walking transport systems of the pathogens.”
“We had to quarantine the town the burn it all with its messed up inhabitants to a blackened crisp. Even when they were engulfed in flames, they kept on coming.” Psy said. His face shown with stress one usually sees in PTSD individual. It was clear Psy had suffered some psychological trauma. He continued. “It should have stopped then but some ass-hole of a human elite purist wanted to get his hands on the stuff.”
“I guess they succeeded.” Rick stated flatly as the sound of gunfire thundered above them.
“Here they come again.” Rick stated emotionlessly. He was tired.
But Sheila was worse. She just couldn’t get up. She sat there against the cold stone wall, looking like a frightened girl. The zombie yack had done a number on her.
Meanwhile back at the club ............
Barett rappelled down slowly from the twenty foot ceiling, right into the center of the dance floor.
Hanging from the thin spider steel wire reinforced rope, he surveyed the scene. It was mass carnage by the kitchen where the first few zombies had come through, several were still ripping through the bodies of those unlucky enough to have been there when it all started. He surpressed the urge to shoot them, knowing that he would need every last round to get him back out. The Music had stopped and just screaming and breaking glass filled the dark dance hall.
Barett swung from the rope over to the mezzanie level and grabed a post. The club was a converted apartment building, and the dance floor, once open to the outside, was the old courtyard. The second floor was the VIP area, now swelling with people fleeing the zombies below. He hung on the inside of a post, ignored by everyone fleeing the carnage below. Gun shots started echoing from the space below him, a rapid uncontrolled clip emptying sound, that wasn't Dave, he'd never fire a weapon that way. He swung around and scanned the front entrance area. The place was full of Zombies now, at least twenty moving targets. They worked in packs of three or four, cornering then shredding their victims.
He saw Carla moving up a set of stairs on the far side from him, Maria in tow, the larg yellow guy with a limp following them, as they pushed forward againest the crowd.
He flipped the laser sight on the Mossberg, and let the green light walk him right to the ugly beasts chest. The shotgun bucked in his hands as he fired two shots into the yellow and gray flesh. The force of the high brass sabot rounds ripped open the chest cavity of the beast, exposing the organs behind, as the large rounds exited bringing with them bone and flesh. It was a great shot, all lungs and heart. The Zombie dropped to his knees, trying to pull his intestines back into his body.
Barett was stunned, anything else would not be moving, it couldn't breath, it couldn't pump blood. But it staggered back to its feet, intestines dragging behind it as it continued to stumble up the stairs after Carla and Maria, Knocking people away with the massive metal club.
Barett Leveled the shotgun at his head and fired again, the impact knocking the beast from its feet. The round taking the top half of the Zombies head right off. The body fell backwards and down the stairs, arms and legs still moving, but not getting back up. Barett swore outloud " Mother of a two headed whore hound", these guys were hard to kill. He started rethinking getting on the ground.
Carla and Maria both looked up at Barett, a smile crept across their lips. He waved them over to where he was. They Rushed through the crowd towards his location.
Barett slid three more rounds into the mossberg, and scanned the crowd looking for Dave. The club was not well lit and he had no idea what Dave would be wearing, and to be honest everyone was kind of dressed the same. He made eye contact with one of the female zombies that was with the big guy he'd just shot, she stared at his gun then back to the still writhing body of the decapitated zombie, and let out that same piercing cry from before.
Barett shot her right in the mouth as she was screaching out some syrians call. The solid slug removed her entire lower jaw and took out the top of her spinal cord, leaving just her body standing there like some statue.
It was a beautiful shot, he was starting to feel confident about being able to take these abominations out. The Girls arrived at the edge of the mezzanie and looked at Barett with a what next look. Sporatic gunfire was going on all over the club now as anyone with a gun was making their last stand. Barett swung over to them and disconnected his harness from the rope, tying the loose end to the railing.
" Quick, head up the rope to the roof and find a safe way out of here, it will hold both your weights so move, go, go."
Barett screamed above the din of the crowd.
The girls didn't wait to be told twice, up Carla went followed closely by Maria. People started to gather over to the rope now hoping to climb up themselves, the panic clear in their eyes.
Barett swore under his breath and swung the rope over to a big guy with a short little hottie of a girlfriend under his arm, after Maria was safly on the roof.
"Carla, catch.."
He threw up his .45 cal H & K with two clips, to her.
"Get as many people out of here as you can....when it gets bad, cut the rope and leave...I'll call you on the radio later. I'm going looking for Dave, see you outside..........Hey where did you see him last ?"
Maria pointed to the other side of the top level to a set of double doors. Barett waved goodby and jumped over the railing and into the swarm of bodies, pushing his way to the far side. Unknown to him four of the female zombies were watching him, after he had killed the big guy and the little banshee, they started out to ambush him by the far staircase.
Barett pushed his way through the thinning crowd. Across the way to the double doors marked private no entrance. He topped off the tube magazine on the mossberg and did a mental check on his weapons list. He still had the .357 mag on his ankle, the Gurki in the small of his back, a backpack with four grenades and some survival supplies and 96 rounds of 12 gauge in a bandolier on him, he felt kind of naked, for this situation. He really could use some body armor, and gasmask and a chemical suit, incase these guys were really contagious.
Crossing in front of the staircase right before the double doors he saw movement in his periphial vision, and ducked, just as a metal bar struck the wood post, splintering it into pieces.
He rolled low and came up with the shotgun right in the face of another female zombie, her face was slashed in the same manner as the first one, and if he didn't know any better he would have sworn that they were twins. He pulled the trigger and jacked another round in all in one clean motion. The sabot round ripping through the neck muscles of the girl, completly severing the head.
Barett whipped and rolled, jumping to the side as another girl zombie, dressed the same as the last hurled herself at him. He fired and missed her, figuring that head shots were his only choice. The round striking off the stone floor and hitting people in the fleeing crowd. He worked the smooth action on the pump and fired another shot striking her in the back of the head, the force of the round forcing her to the ground, arms flailing the rest of her face splattered across the floor and wall.
Suddenly two more females appeared behind her, moving very quick and overran him. Holding the shotgun out straight he fired right into the chest of the first, severing her spine. THe second one caught him with a left hook to the shoulder, trying to roll with it he pitched over the top rail to the dance floor below.
The benefit of being a Ringtailed cat was reflexes and balance, landing on his feet, he looked up just in time to see the last girl throw herself off the mezzanie right at him. Firing his last shot in the gun at her head, he dodged just in time as a clawed hand ripped open his backpack. Her head crushed into the cement floor, arms and legs still moving.
These guys were bad news, and Barett started to re-think finding Dave. Thats when he spotted Bianca hiding out under the stairs he was standing next to, as he rapidly reloaded the shotgun. She looked up at him in a surprised kind of way, and he motioned for her to join him.
Bianca hesitated a little then came out, a brushed stainless Walter PPK in her hand. Barett was scanning the area, watching for more zombies as she walked over.
" How many rounds left do you have ?"
She dropped the clip to look and shook her head.
"I'm dead out, I don't even remember firing all of them."
She was steady, not hurt and was gaining her wits about her. Barett didn't know her well enough to hand her a grenade or his back-up gun, but saving her seemed like a good idea so he went with it.
"Ok, if you want to survive, follow me back up the stairs to the double doors, cover my back, and keep and eye out for these guys, holler loud if you see one coming for us."
She nodded and started after him as he ran up the now empty stairs.
He ran straight at the closed doors and came to a sudden stop just to the left of the door frame. She came up right behind him moving fast, and stopped to his right againest the wall. The noise from the club was dying down, in a literal sense, the main areas of carnage were by the blocked doors. Only a few zombies were on the second floor, but they were working through the crowd on the far side into the open bar area where people had gathered, trapped into a corner.
Barett leveled the shotgun at the lock and fired, just like they had trained with the LEO guys on the swat teams. The door popped open and Barett rushed in low, gun at the ready, a crowd of very stoned, very surprised people stared back at him. A few guns were pointed in his direction, but no one fired yet.
Bianca followed and closed the doors, a few people tossed some leather couchs againest the doors to hold them shut. It was a Mexican standoff, three guys with small caliber handguns. Staring at Barett with the shotgun in his hand and a gurki tucked into his back he looked intimidating. Bianca started talking fast in a language he didn't understand at that speed, and soon all guns were pointed down. Barett tossed some more furniture in front of the door then started towards the back areas. There were a lot of high end call girls, and very expensively dressed guys floating around, all with very scared looks on their faces. Barett smashed open a window and peered out through the security bars down onto the parking lot below. He was expecting sirens and screaming, but nothing the whole scene was quiet outside, except for the two big trucks backed againest the building and a few randow bodies on the ground it didn't look like what it felt like inside. He checked his watch, less than five minutes had pasted since the trucks backed up to the club. He scanned the crowd, looking for Dave, and a escape route.
Bianca was talking with two guys over by the door that had the guns, it was a language that Barett didn't understand.
The crowd was looking nervous, but didn't seem to understand what was really going on out in the club. There was a hall in the back that lead to more rooms and doors. He was going to sweep the back rooms when the doors came crashing in, at least a dozen Zombies busted through the doors, mouths drooling, covered in blood.
Barett wasted not time, and soon five empty shell casings lay on the carpeted floor. But that didn't stop the rest, they moved right over their own dead without so much as looking down.
Barett was trying to keep the zombies away from Bianca. He speed loaded the mossberg with five more shells, the clicking of the brass againest the steel a silenced echo in the screaming of the room. He held his combat stance near the back of the room, quickly beading up on a target, firing then moving on to the next. Bianca had ducked and rolled for cover under a overturned couch while Barett drew their ire, and they advanced towards him.
Five more shells emptied and smoking on the carpet and nine decapitated zombies squirmed on the floor, blood and gore covering the floor and walls. IT became a literal killing field as they pushed into the room through the doorway. He reloaded again as two fast females flung themselves at him, the last to push through the doorway. The first one hitting him low on the legs, as he tried to dodge and reload the shotgun at the same time. He spun to the left and got hit across the arms, knocking the shotgun out of his hands. Rolling with the hit, he came up on his feet, as the mossberg bounced along the floor to the far wall. He stared at the two females, as they screamed and jumped up and down in some sort of victory cry.
They didn't dance for long, in no time they both rushed at him. The first one was swinging wildly, teeth bare, drool all down the front of her open shirt, exposing her breasts. Barett ignored the mythological connection between them and harpies and swung the Gurki up and out at the same time he quick stepped to the left. The cold hardened and razor sharp blade did almost all the work, but Barett put some extra strengh behind the blade, making sure that the head was completly severed from the body, and that meant cutting tendons and spinalcord. It was not as easy as it seemed, decapitating a humanoid, the head was designed to stay on, under some very tough situations.
It made a sort of popping sound, then a gurgling noise before hitting the floor. Barett planted his foot and snap kicked the second one right in the knee bringing her down to the wood floor.
But she grabbed his leg and knocked them both to the ground rolling and kicking across the floor. Barett was trying to keep the gurki between his body and her, blocking punches and kicks, occasionally getting in a good punch, but none of his hits seemed to be affecting her. It seemed like the more he hit her the stronger and crazier she got.
With his sensative hearing he heard the slide on the mossberg 500 rack a fresh shell, then a boom. THe whole back of the head came off the she-zombie in one quick thump. Barett kicked the now flailing body off of him, there stood Bianca with the shotgun, jacking another round into the breech.
" Where to now Cowboy ?" She smiled at him, a look of complete satisfaction on her face, that Barett had only witnessed on women after they had spent the night with Rick.
" I say we Vamanos, and leave this hell hole, right now."
He ran to the window, kicked out the bars from the wall and leaned out to check the roof line out, and check for zombies.
Barett looked around the room, everyone but Bianca and the dead zombies had fled. She handed him back the shotgun and he reloaded. He clicked the radio three times, signaling Carla to answer.
" Go ahead. We read you." Carla's smooth female voice came over the line.
" Gald the radios are working, I'm ready for a self extract, hows the cargo ?"
Barett Replied.
" Fine, two plus one, we have all the personal now, last one in sight, not in building, you are free to extract, but don't leave the way you came in, repeat, do not leave the same way you came in." Carla was smooth and calm, amazingly.
Barett on the other hand was all combat wired up, the adrenalin was really pumping.
" ROGER that, I'll be leaving on the south side...see you soon, over and out."
Bianca looked at him as he slide out the window onto the small ledge and scanned for a soft landing, from the twenty foot height. The landing wasn't for him, it was for Bianca, he could jump from this height with no concern at all, benifits of training and Genetics.
" I'll go first, you follow my lead, everything should go just fine. "
She nodded and climbed out on the ledge with him. Barett heard movement back in the room to see six more abominations enter the room. He pulled a flash bang grenade from the pack, pulled the ring and flung it in. The grenade bounced twice, and the zombies stared down at it in confusion.
Barett Pushed Bianca from the edge, to a spot of grass on the edge of the parking as he jumped to. Midway down the grenade went off, the crack and flash lighting up the area below them.
Bianca landed first with amazing reflexes, rolling and coming to a stop in a controled fashion.
Barett landed next to her, gun at the ready. The parking lot was quiet, eriely so.
Barett clicked the radio again, as he swept the parking lot visually. Bianca was up and moving just fine, she was scanning the area as well, nothing was moving.
The Radio was all static again, it worked just fine in the club, but was being jammed out here in the parking lot. From his training as a special forces radio man in the Unification war, he could deduce two things. It was only working short range, and it was close, with a transmitter mounted mobile tower. That meant no 911 like calls were going out, no calls for help, this was planned out in advance, and was not random. He suspected Roman, but didn't know why he would attack a club. At first Barett thought it was about Carla, but this plan conoted more planning than the randomness of them showing up here.
Bianca was heading to her car, in a light jog, looking back at Barett in a follow me and lets get out of here with our lives, kind of look.
Carla and Maria were coming off the roof, down a fire escape ladder, followed by a group of people from the club. Barett pulled his spandex and silk ski mask from the backpack and covered his face, not wanting to be identified by anymore people than he had to. The situation had gone from bad to fubar and was now a clusterf**k. Carla and Maria were running towards him now, Carla pointing to the radio, and shaking her head.
Barett headed towards the car of Bianca's, motioning them to follow him.
They all gathered at the Mini-cooper, looks of shock on their faces.
" Look, you should all leave now, I have some unfinished business."
Barett tells the three women. Bianca clicks the unlock button on the doors and motions for Carla and Maria to get in.
Sooner or later the zombies will come out those doors and he doesn't want some x-files type of cover-up to explain this one away.
Bianca smiles at Barett and starts the engine on the car, Carla and Maria are already buckled up.
" Thanks for saving my life, I guess will do that date later? "
Bianca says coyley, looking at the beautiful Maria and Carla, hoping one of these two is not his girlfriend.
" No problem, we'll catch up later, Carla, take them back to the church, I will meet you there."
Barett slaps the side of the car and turns to head back towards the club. The zombies from the trucks are starting to file our now, and he wonders how many of them are there ?
The Mini-Cooper roars out of the parking lot as Barett jogs over to the first truck with the now dead driver, shooting and running at the same time, trying to draw them away from the fleeing crowd.
Open ground was a lot better, but still these guys moved at him fast. He dropped the first five quickly, but it seemed they were learning. The last four spread out and tried to sweep in a ambush like back door move on him. Barett stopped, reloaded and shot the two advancing guys right where they stood as they attempted to come in from his left and right. The last two rushed him, but it was to late for them, the last ones body fell headless at Baretts feet.
He looked up to see flames coming from the club, probably from the grenade. People were now streaming from the club, and fire seemed to disorient the remaining zombies. He poked his head into the cab of the truck, and pushed the dead body out. It was a mutant partial looks rat, but he was no zombie, which made sense. The radio equipment control was mounted under the dash, a high end digital jammer, very nice piece of equipment. The attenna mush be in the back box part of the truck.
Barett checked his back, and looked around the area. His hyper hearing picked up the sound of sirens in the distance, as the flames licked up out of the window. The area was starting to draw a crowd, and the zombies were starting to wander off. Barett grabbed the jammer and yanked it free from the dash, using the gurki, he cut the wires loose and put that and a H & K MP5 that was sitting the seat from the dead driver, along with the dead guys wallet into the backpack.
Running away with the fleeing crowd, he doubled back to his Motorcycle and did a last minute check, taking photos with the small digital camera that Rick had given him.
Barett was torked about Dave escaping and leaving Maria behind at the club. His car was gone, thats all he reall knew. He didn't have all the details, so he couldn't be sure what all the reasons were. But Maria was safe, so was Carla and Bianca that would have to be good enough.
He started up the motorcycle and turned the headlight off, driving the back alleys and streets of Stari Grad, looking for Daves Bugatti Veyron. Siren's began to fill the resort town and lights started coming on, Barett clicked the headlight back on and pulled onto a main road.
" Looks like the game is over for tonight." he said to himself and headed out of town to meet up with the rest of the gang.
His shoulder and arm throbbed from where the Zombie had hit him. It was like being struck with a sledgehammer. He wondered how contagious the zombies were, based on the movies you needed to be bitten. Based on medical science and contagious diseases, body fluids and contact would be enough. Barett started thinking of ways he was going to De-contaminate everyone, just as a precaution.
He had some time to think, but all he kept coming up with were questions. As he rode the motorcyle down the dark island rodes back to Hvar and the church.
Why did the Zombies attack the club ? They let Carla and them go with relative ease as far as Barett could tell, then again he was the deadly guy with the shotgun blasting their heads off.
Why did Dave leave without saying anything ? Barett knew that He was deep undercover, and if anyone saw the two of them together it would allow some speculation. One ringtailed cat from out of town, no big deal, but if some one saw all four of them together, it could spell trouble. They were all related, and looked enough alike that it would not be to big a stretch to draw some conclusions and do a little research. In certain circles they were infamous.
He was sure Maria could help fill in the missing pieces.
What was he going to do with Bianca ? Saving her seemed like a good idea at the time, but was it worth the risk ? They may need to ditch her before the Shelia and the others covers were blown.
Lots of questions, and no good answers, Barett was not a happy man.
He passed a small stream that ran by the side of the road and decided to stop and wash the gore from his cloths. The thought of contaminated zombie guts all over him made the risk worthwhile. Besides the girls would be safe and sound back at the church with the others. So if he was contaminated, it would be best not to share it. But somewhere in his subconcious brain, he also wanted to look good for Bianca.
Pulling the motorcycle off the road and behind some olive trees, he did a quick sweep of the area, and finding all clear, stripped his gear off and jumped into the cool refreshing water.
The stream wasn't very deep but he managed to find a pool that was deep enough to let him rinse off. Pulling the cloths from his body and scrubbing them with sand and grass till in the partial moonlight they looked clean, and smelled a whole lot better.
He was standing there, naked, splashing in the water when the thought struck him.
"What if Carla and Dave were the targets ?" If that was true, then the Church would be a danger to, and if that was true, the girls weren't headed for safly, they were walking into a trap.
Barett quickly tossed the wet cloths back on and jumped on the motorcycle. No time to waste he dropped the clutch and threw a rooster tail of dirt and rocks into the air as the bike wheelied and raced back up the hill to the road.
Barett Pushed the little bike as fast as the road and its motor would let him go. After a few minutes he eased back to a safer pace, realizing that the girls were at least twenty minutes ahead of him. If things went bad at the church museum then it was to late now. He punched the radio button a few times hoping to raise Carla, but nothing but static filled his ear.
The luminous dial on his watch read 1:30 am, it had been three hours since he last talked to Utah and Rick, and thirty five minutes since he saw Carla, Maria and Bianca.The small bike rounded the corner on the slight rise before the castle overlooking the bay city of Hvar.
Barett was waiting for the glare of city lights and traffic, but nothing, the whole city was black. No lights on at the dock, or through town, the whole place was dark.
" Son of a two headed whore hound."
Barett swore out loud.
He eased the bike down to under twenty mph, and scanned the city. independant lights flickered here and there, car lights flashed occasionally along the narrow streets but otherwise the place was off the electric grid.
This was a bad sign, a very bad sign. He flicked the radio again, and got the same static as before, and swore again.
Stopping the bike to gear up, and scope out the town. Pulling the shotgun out of the backpack, he slung it across his chest and put the bandolier across his shoulder, Game on, he thought, Game on.
" Time to find the girls and my brothers." He said in his mind.
He was always ready for some sort of apocalyptic event, it was just the way his father and mother had raised them. They came from a line of genetically modified hy-breeds designed as ultimate soliders, and he was third generation.
Barett knew it was hard to run away from your destiny, it had been chasing him since his birth. The problem with "Destiny" is that it's a whole lot easier for others to see it then yourself. He had read the stories of 'Joan of Arc', George Washington and Lincoln, but he wasn't like them. They were born leaders, he was breed for combat, but still destiny hung in the air, to Barett it smelled like gunpowder, ready to explode.
All of his brothers could feel the same tension and forced duty. Utah had taken this very seriuosly from the first day they were orphaned after the attack on their home at the military base. The death of their father, was life altering. They were being groomed for great things in the military, but his death changed all that.
Utah had done the best he could, far above what Barett himself would have done, and it was nothing short of a miracle that all of them were still alive. They clung together at the same time they fought with each other, but the call of blood and duty subdued all other passions. He mused to himself about his own life, and potential death, how would people view and record their deeds, Would they be vilified and discarded, or seen as men that did their best, despite personal weaknesses. It took only a split second for his brain to shout back." It's better that people not know anything about what you have done."
His brain was right, best not get into that line of thinking till he was old and tired, but today was not that day.
Meanwhile, four stocky guys in dockworkers clothes sat weapons ready in the back of a old yellow paneled renault van. The Russian breed wolverines were second generation genetically engineered warriors, all from the same line, cousins.
They were all partial looks, dark brown hair, thick and straight, grown long under the knit caps on their heads, two week old beards darkening their faces. They had born killers eyes, narrow and black, no hint of emotion.
A smaller, older man, that looked just like the others, sat in the drivers seat of the old van, tuning a police scanner, and jotting down notes, while the operators sat in the back, relaxing the way warriors do before battle.
The old mans head shook back and forth, then he turned around, said something in a thick eastern european language and started up the van. The Operators stowed all the long guns and weapons into the lockers sitting in the middle of the van and started shuffling around in the back, trying to make themselves comfortable for what appeared to be a long journey.
The largest one in the back, squeezed his way into the passangers seat. He was the obvious choice as the leader, even under the clothes he emitted a muscular and vicous build. His eyes narrowed as he read the notes the old man had been writting.
" To Split ? I fear we are on a wild goose chase uncle."
" Not so my young friend, we have good intel that the zombies are there now. In a few hours we should be back on the trail. So get some sleep you will need it."
The old man shifts the gears up and swings the van onto a nearly desereted highway system somewhere in Greece.
The dark highway gave time for reflection and evaluation. They Had spent the last two years training for this, ever since the incident at the island. Then six months ago the Museum incident, then two months ago the Paris outbreak. They were less outbreaks, as the reports read, but more were incidents of planned testing, escaped victims of the E.o.H's dark plans, in some cases. This latest chase was following the lead on a private military grade party, using industial grade cloning combined with isolated cybernetics implants, enhanced with the by-product of the virus, when delivered by immunization.
That was how the first ones at the Museum were made, the military staff having been given what was thought to be a immunization againest the viruses. Instead it caused a very low grade zombie, susceptible to sugestion, like someone under hypnosis. But that was all on the techinical side of things, the math. Zombies with guns turned out to be a very bad thing for the people of the local village, and the livestock. They burned the bodies, just in case. But still they had wandered from place to place in the last few weeks.Hunting down this rogue element of their own military.
The R.O.E ( Rules of Engagement ) were clear on this one. All infected person were to be eliminated with extreme prejudice. They were to leave no trace that they were operating in the E.U.even. They had traded in the latest version of the AK-47 they normally carried, and loaded up on H & K MP5's and Berreta's submachine guns, along with some Glock 45's handguns.
From the back a voice called out.
"Hey ,Top what is our ETA, I need to make a pitstop and leave a deuce in the woods."
The Sergeant looked at his driver, who held up four fingers, meaning four hours of drive time. He looked down at the map and pointed to a small town about 25 kilometers away. They needed fuel and a walkabout anyway.
" Private, you will need to hold that crap for at least another 25 kilometers....then we will do some PT and get some chow. Get some shuteye till then."
" Roger that TOP "
The soldier just rolled over and went back to sleeping, such is the life of a modern warrior, sleep where and when you can get it.
The " TOP " looked back at the map, Split seemed like a unlikely spot for a planned attack, but since the bombing of Scotland a few hours ago, anything was possible.
The'Top' looked back at the crew, and admired their ability to sleep. He had voluntered for this job, even writting the SOP for it. Under the direction of the Major, it was passed to the Generals, and approved quickly. As they had their own reasons for wanting this kind of curse not blamed on them he knew at some point, he would probably become the scape goat. He was ok with that, he had other plans, if he lived.
The dark coastal backroads passed by, unnoticed by him as he memorized maps and details. The old man drove in silence till they came into the small town.
" we'll fuel up here, get some chow and get back on the road. Thirty minutes, no more or we leave your asses here."
" Roger that "
Came the reply as the guys headed for the 24 hr truck stop dinner and fuel station.
The Top found a pay phone and called in to some answering machine somewhere, and left his plan in code on the machine. Sometimes he wished that a real person picked up on the other end, so he could ask them questions. But that was not how the operations perimeters were set up.
He had hand picked these men, knowing they might all die easily on this mission. Each one of them was a volunter, knowing how deadly this mission was. He admired that, it was a hard virtue to find in men these days.
Twenty nine minutes later they were back on the road, this time all of them slept, even the Top.
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