CHAPTER 10

Trapov Village, Edonia

4:13 pm September 19th, 2010

Carter's voice came over the radio, "I found some kind of school here with a locked gate and a thick wall around it. It looks like there's a large group of survivors inside, but they're freaked the fuck out and won't let me inside. They won't even talk to me."

"Good to know there are more survivors," Thom replied, "but unless they have a vehicle in there, keep on moving."

"Copy that," Carter answered.

As the men continued to search the eerie town, they realized that only a small percentage of the population had even owned a vehicle. Most of them were wrecked on the main road or on the side streets that fed onto it. The carnage was centered on the avenue leading up to the church, but there wasn't much that remained unaffected by the attack. The men passed house after house with smashed doors and windows covered in bloody smears.

Eventually, Thom got lucky and found a makeshift garage with a padlock on the large gate-like door. The walls of the structure were made of sheets of corrugated aluminum that was rusting through in several spots. Shining his flashlight in through one of the holes he saw a windshield and the dirty white hood of a small car. He smiled and put the flashlight back in his pouch before he got on the radio.

"Jackpot mates," he called, "I'm on the far eastern side of the village, near the cliffs, maybe four hundred meters south of the church."

"On my way," said Carter.

"Moving," Nick reported.

"Still working here boss," Marcos said, "Give me a few more minutes."

"Who's with Karina now?" Thom asked.

"She's right here with me, translating," Marcos told him.

"Take your time; Carter, Nick and I will see if anyone is home that will miss this car."

A few minutes later Carter and Nick were linked up with Thom in the street, just outside of a small, walled courtyard that was in front of the house that the garage was leaning against. Thom and Carter cleared the courtyard and took off their go bags, setting them near the door with Nick's bag and sniper rifle. Nick pulled the shotgun around, at the low ready, and grabbed the door handle with his left hand as his teammates signaled that they were set. He turned the handle and pushed the door in as Thom and Carter stepped in, rifles up and at the high ready with the gun lights on.

Nick flowed in behind them into a small family room with two doorways, one to the immediate right and another on the far wall, to the left side. A worn sofa sat along the front wall of the house under a large window and a pair of overturned chairs was cluttered in front of the doorway on the left. A wide bookshelf that had stood on the far wall to the right of the door had been knocked over into the middle of the room, smashed in half. The top leaned against the sofa while the bottom half was stomped and the back was broken through. There was a long trail of blood smeared on the back of the shelf, past the chairs, leading into the other room.

Thom followed the blood trail while Carter turned right. Nick followed Thom and they tossed the chairs aside and entered what appeared to have been the dining room. It was in shambles. The table was tilted, two legs broken off and the worn surface snapped in half. The chairs that had surrounded it were knocked over or broken. A small serving table along the inside wall, to their right, was smashed to pieces along with a tea set that had been on it. A china cabinet on the wall to the left was destroyed, a mangled body, with a bashed open skull, was lying inside its ruined shelves and cabinets. There was blood splattered all over the small room, covering the wrecked furniture, overturned chairs, and even smeared along the walls.

They picked their way through the mess and moved to a doorway to the right, leading into the kitchen, where they could see the beam of Carter's gun light coming from the other room to the right. They stepped inside, Thom and Carter's gun lights focused on a tangle of legs and arms lying motionless on the floor. They couldn't help but just stand there for a few moments, frozen in sorrow, staring in silence at the carnage.

It appeared to be a family, a woman, a child, and a large man that had all been turned. They were covered in blood and wounds from bites, scratches and even some clean cuts, from a knife or razor. Another body, which was completely mutilated, lay unrecognizable on the floor beneath the other three. They couldn't even tell if it had been a man or woman. The others must have just caught whoever it was when Nick killed Levi and they'd all just dropped in place.

Every part of the kitchen was covered in blood and gore. The smell was thick and overwhelming, even though a door leading out the back of the house was open, hanging off the bottom hinge. One of them must have broken in and turned the family until they all attacked the unlucky soul under the pile of corpses.

"There's a stairway right here," Carter finally said, jerking his thumb back toward the room behind him.

"I've seen enough," Thom said, "We'll just break open the carport and hotwire the fuckin' thing."

They left the house and moved back outside in front of the car port, slinging their rifles. Nick set the shotgun down with the rest of his gear and the three men grabbed the top of the gate, heaving and tearing it down. Carter and Nick dragged it out of the way, leaving it in the yard, as Thom got his flashlight back out and walked into the garage. He grasped the door handle, expecting it to be locked, but the door opened and he climbed in to look for the keys.

He climbed out moments later, saying "No keys. How about you get this thing going?"

"Just because I'm black that means I can hotwire a car?" Carter joked.

"Absolutely, now get it working," Thom said, walking past him out of the shanty car port. He got back on the radio, "Marcos, how's it looking?"

A few seconds later Marcos answered, "Just about done here boss. Karina's just trying to figure shit out with the locals. You want us to come to you?"

"No mate, Carter's hotwiring the car now, just meet us on the main road."

"That's some racist shit boss, having the black man do it," Marcos said.

"You were busy," Thom replied.

"Motherfucker," Marcos said and a second later added, "We're moving now."

Thom heard the car engine turn over and rev a few times. A moment later, Carter pulled the car out into the street and hit the trunk latch. He stepped out as the men gathered their gear from the courtyard and loaded the go bags inside. Nick put his sniper rifle in the trunk along with Thom's and Carter's M4 carbines, hanging on to his Mossberg. They shut the trunk and got in, Carter at the wheel, Thom sat in the passenger seat, and Nick sat in the back, behind Thom, with his shotgun between his knees.

Carter drove carefully down the narrow streets, doing his best to avoid the bodies and debris that littered the small village. Their car was a beaten up and slightly rusty old Volkswagen of some kind, but it handled fairly well as Carter navigated back towards the church. He didn't have any problems with the clutch or the transmission in first or second gear, but having to maneuver through the aftermath prevented him from even getting up to third gear.

They turned onto the main road and Carter had to run over a few things he thought he'd never have to run over before he reached the corner Marcos and Karina were waiting at. He stopped near the pair and hit the trunk latch as Nick got out so he could give them a hand loading their stuff in the trunk.

"Is the old lady going to make it?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, they let me stitch her up and I gave her plenty of Motrin," Marcos said as he shoved the aid bag and M79 in the car, "She'll definitely live, probably going to have some serious nightmares, but she'll be alive."

Thom grabbed the P90 he had given to Karina along with the remaining spare magazine. They climbed in the back seat, Nick behind Thom, Marcos behind Carter, and Karina between them in the back seat with her black bag and its precious contents on her lap. It was a tight fit with all the gear on their vests, belts, and strapped to their legs, but they managed.

"Where are we going today Miss Daisy?" Carter said, doing the appropriate southern black gentleman accent.

"Head towards our camp," Thom answered, pulling out his map, "We'll try and take the trails and back roads so we can stay off the highway."

"Okay," Carter said, shifting the car in gear and driving west.

As they drove away, Nick couldn't help but feel the weight of the guilt for leaving the village the way they did. It had been a normal, peaceful village that morning, probably not a bad place to live, when the sun came up, but it was now setting on graveyard. Trapov was a ruined, blood soaked husk of what it should have been and Nick felt like they were the ones responsible for it.

The storm clouds they'd seen on the horizon that afternoon soon consumed the whole sky, bringing the dark of night even sooner. As they drove, rain started to fall, slowly at first. The group heard the rumble of thunder overhead as the rain was increasing. When they reached the highway and turned south onto it the rain was pouring down in sheets as the wind picked up out of nowhere. Lightning flashed every few minutes and the time between the flash and the clap of thunder was ever decreasing. They drove in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

A mile or so down the highway, Carter finally spoke, "Storm's getting worse. How far is our turn off?"

"About two more miles," Thom answered wearily, "It'll be on the right. If you cross a bridge then you've gone just past it."

The road weaved along next to a deep ravine for a few minutes before it rose over a hill. As they crested the hill a flash of lightning illuminated the stretch of road ahead of them and the group saw a major problem. The bridge Thom referred to was about a kilometer away, but blocking the road in the center of the simple bridge were two pickup trucks. They caught glimpses of men in ponchos standing behind mounted machineguns in the beds of the trucks. They all knew that their own headlights had already given them away to the enemies guarding the river crossing.

"Shit," Thom said, studying the woodline bordering the right side of the road.

"So that turn is coming up, right?" Carter asked as he let the car coast down the backside of the hill.

"I'm looking for it, just, try to slow down a little," Thom said.

As the car continued along, losing speed as they coasted, Nick and Marcos shifted their weapons, readying them in case of trouble. They fumbled in the darkness and located the handles for the windows so that they were ready to open them if they couldn't find their side road. Karina nervously peered out the windshield, unsure of what was going to happen and dreading tangling with the soldiers ahead.

"I see it!" Thom stated, pointing to the woods.

"I don't see it yet," Carter said, shifting into gear and slowly moving along.

When the lightning flashed again Thom exclaimed, "Right there!"

"I saw it," Carter said. He had to brake hard in order to make the turn and the car started to slide, hydroplaning on the washed out road. He fought the skid like a professional stunt driver and barely made the turn, bouncing off the smooth pavement and onto the rough trail. Nick watched the pickups as they started moving, their headlights on as they straightened out on the bridge and headed after them.

"Yeah, they're following us," he reported.

They lurched and bounced in the car as it rode roughly over the logging trail, bottoming out several times, as they passed into the thick forest. Between the trees the trail was narrow with small natural ditches to either side, full of swiftly flowing rainwater runoff. Carter had to decelerate and down shift to second gear in order to keep control of the car. As fine as German automobile engineering was, the little Volkswagen was definitely not made for this kind of off-road use.

Thom tried to look at the map as the car shifted and bounced over roots and through deep puddles of muddy water. The wipers were smearing the dirt and leaves across the windshield, clearing barely enough for Carter to see. Both of them were swearing in the front seat as Nick, Karina, and Marcos kept looking out the rear window. Behind them, the headlights of the pickup trucks turned onto the trail. A few moments later they entered the forest and the gunner in the bed of the first truck started firing his PKM.

His rounds sprayed wildly as he fought to stand in place while the pickup bounced over the rough trail. The team saw the tracers sailing in every direction around and above them. Karina tried to duck down, clutching her bag in her left arm and tightly gripping Nick's left leg with her right.

"We'll cross a creek and then the trail makes a hard right," Thom announced loudly, "We hit the turn, kill the lights and hit 'em when they come around. Nick and Marcos, you guys frag 'em and I'll get the artillery."

Seconds later the creek came into view and Carter said, "There's no bridge!"

"Nope!" Thom agreed.

Carter gunned the engine and the car accelerated as rounds struck the trees to the right side of their car. Chips of bark and slivers of woods stuck to Thom and Nick's windows from the impacting rounds. Marcos frantically fought to buckle his seat belt and Nick pressed his right hand against the roof, bracing himself as the car picked up speed. He wrapped his left arm around Karina's shoulders and held her tightly as the car tires slammed through the puddles and into roots and rocks sticking out of the ground.

The creek ran over the trail ahead, which had created a wide ditch that was full of flowing water and debris. Carter knew that if he tried to roll through it slowly they'd get bogged down, lose traction, and wind up helplessly stuck in the stream. The only way they'd make it is if he could build enough speed that their momentum would carry them through it. He slammed on the gas pedal and gripped the steering wheel with all his strength.

"Hold on!" he yelled.

The car hit a small rut, just before the road dipped down into the water, and went airborne. Carter had the presence of mind to take his foot off the accelerator and push in the clutch. They were all swearing as the simple, old Volkswagen tilted forward in mid air, all four tires spinning off the ground. The front bumper struck the lip on the far side of the creek before the tires hit the earth, just above the water line. The front end bounced up as the momentum kept propelling the car forward and the rear tires slammed in almost the same spot, the rear fender splashing in the creek. The car continued moving as the front end came back down, bouncing as they settled, still rolling along.

Carter let off the clutch slightly as he gave it gas and the tires caught traction in the mud of the rough trail. The rear end skidded from side to side as Carter fought to bring the car back under his control. More machinegun fire chewed up the trees and trail behind them. A few rounds struck the back of the car, knocking out a tail light and striking the trunk.

"God damn it!" Thom shouted. He rolled down his window and half turned in his seat to thrust the P90 out, aiming generally to the rear. He fired a few short bursts and Marcos followed his lead, firing out his window behind Carter. They kept trading quick bursts, keeping the gunner from firing again.

"Curve's coming up!" Carter called out.

He put the car in neutral, killed the lights, and turned off the ignition. As the first trailing pickup bounded over the ditch, nearly throwing their gunner from the bed, Carter coasted the Volkswagen skillfully around the curve. As the car slowed to a stop, all four men opened their doors and got out while Karina sat, bewildered. Carter and Thom pushed the car along in neutral, keeping its momentum.

Nick pulled the frag grenades from the pouches at his sides and handed one of them to Marcos. They ripped the tape securing the pins and flicked the safety clip off of the spoons. As the headlights of the lead truck lit the curve behind them both of them pulled the pins and got ready to throw.

Just as the front of the first pickup came into view Nick threw his grenade. The spoon flipped off as the grenade sailed and struck a hard packed section of the trail, skidding off to the left side of the road. After a two count, Marcos threw his and they both dove into the mud behind trees along the side of the road. Marcos's grenade plopped into a puddle in the center of the road a few meters in closer than where Nick's had landed.

The lead truck fishtailed wildly around the curve and the driver was still fighting to control the vehicle when Nick's grenade exploded on the edge of the trail. Shrapnel blew out the front right side tire and peppered the passenger side with steaming holes. The gunner was thrown down in the bed of the truck, screaming in pain. The driver instinctively turned away from the blast, right over the puddle in which Marcos's grenade had landed when it went off.

The front end of the pickup was launched up and the tire on the driver's side was blown off into the trees, rim and all. The hood flipped off the truck and bits of vital engine parts were tossed into the air, smoking like bottle rockets. The windshield and windows shattered, flying around the cab with the pink mist of blood from the driver as the overpressure caused blood vessels near his skin to burst. The body of the gunner in the back flipped a few times as he was thrown into the mud behind the wreckage of the truck, which lurched to the right and came down in the ditch on its passenger side.

The driver of the second truck panicked at the sound of the explosions and mistakenly punched the accelerator instead of the brakes as he came into the curve. He quickly tried to correct his error, slamming on the brakes, which locked up the front tires and threw him into a full on skid. He slid through the curve completely out of control. He cranked the wheel to the right, trying to fight the skid, but he hit the ditch on the outside of the curve nearly sideways. The wheels caught in the deep rut and pitched the truck up on the front left tire.

The cab smashed into a tree, crushing it and shattering the glass of the windows. The gunner tried to leap from the truck, but didn't clear the bed before it flipped up and he was catapulted from the bed and into the trees of the forest, smashing into a thick truck with a sickening thud. The truck settled on its side with its cab wrapped around the tree.

Marcos and Nick stood up ready to fire, but Thom shouted, "Clear the way mates!"

They turned to run back to the car where Thom was standing behind the open trunk with his M4 in hand. The huge man reached around the magazine, took aim, and fired a 40mm grenade at the underside of the first truck. It detonated the fuel tank and caused a massive, Hollywood-like, fiery explosion. The ball of flame and smoke rose into the night illuminating the trees eerily before it died down into a thick plume of smoke over the flames of burning tires. The rain hissed as it hit the heated metal wreckage.

Thom opened the breech, letting the smoking casing fall in the mud, and picked another round out of a pouch on his body armor. He loaded it in the tube, closed it, and fired it at the second truck, causing another spectacular explosion. The three men stood in the mud, soaking in the cold rain, with huge grins on their faces, just watching the flames. Carter slammed his hand on the roof of the car before he got in and the three men turned to go. As Thom laid his M4 back in the truck he pointed at a bullet hole through the lid.

"They killed our spare, boys," he said.