Week 50, Day 6

The inside of the pizza restaurant was just dark enough for the limited patches of light to be to bright. Thus, the pack moved as slowly and cautiously as could be expected from zombies in hot pursuit of armed men who moments before had been shooting at them. A surprised cry made it clear that they were too close for human comfort, and the zombies came faster. Even so, a handful paused to sample a pizza set out on the table.

Then, just at the edge of one of those patches of light, there was a brief glint off a well-used rock hammer.

"We been able to cover a withdrawal from the Vee Theater," Sydney reported in person. "If our tallies are right, I just made kill 11,003."

"Good work," Austin said.

"We also took casualty 31," Sydney added.

"All right," Austin said.

"With all due respect..." Sydney took a deep breath, and then swore loudly. "Nothing's all right, sir! We have lost the rear of the mall, sir. All we have left is the rear entrance, and we can't hold it."

"We can get you more ammunition in a few hours," Austin said.

"The bloody ammunition doesn't bloody matter, sir," Sydney replied. "There's never going to be enough ammunition. Period. But that's just the parting flip-off from the Universe. Even if we had enough ammunition, we don't have enough food. Or medicine... and I'm sure you've thought about what one good virus could do to us in here. Then, even if we had the food, we wouldn't have the men. There, the numbers speak for themselves. We started with fewer than 300, and we have lost more that 30. And even with ten thousand zombies dead, there are still ten times as many left, and we still have more coming."

Austin gave the veteran a firm, not quite solemn gaze. "How about we turn this around? You were here before I was. If someone had said then that it was possible to kill more than ten thousand zombies, at the cost of thirty men... would anybody have called it a bad trade?"

Sydney swallowed. "We would have said it would be a bloody miracle."

"All right. Now let's think about those zombies. We have one hundred thousand zombies that are here, after 226 of us, when they could be out there, where there are a hundred thousand people. And then there are eleven thousand zombies that are going... nowhere. So, if we can keep fighting as well as we have so far, and every single one of us is wiped out, then there will be eighty-eight thousand zombies going nowhere. Then what would you say to that?"

Sydney gave a subtle smile. "I suppose I'd have to say... let's make it an even hundred grand." Then the smile became a grin. "And I think I just remembered, why the * I'm calling you `sir'."

Every eye in the city looked up at the helicopter that rose from Circus Circus and headed south toward the Planet Hollywood casino. None watched more attentively than Krista Kansas, who watched through binoculars from her lifeguard chair, and Branson Missouri, who tracked it from the observation post in the citadel of Stratosphere.

The helicopter flew right past the mall, drawing away a few swarms worth of zombies. Then it circled, still keeping its distance, continuing to stir up the horde. After two circles, it moved in, not quite directly over the roof, and from a door in the side a machine gun opened fire, cutting down several of the larger groups on the roof. The helicopter made another, wider circle, once again drawing away zombies, before finally making a graceful turn. Cheers erupted from the PH roof, and indeed from watchers everywhere. Even Austin ventured a smile... and even as he smiled, he saw a distant flash and puff of smoke, even before a streak like a comet rose from the earth, straight for the helicopter. "SAM!" he shouted. Already, the helicopter was taking evasive action, and there was even a desperate volley of machine gun fire aimed at the incoming missile. Then the missile detonated, and a cloud of smoke and flame seemed either to obscure or envelope the helicopter.

There were no cries of fear, anger or surprise, only stunned, staring silence for a fraction of a second that seemed like hours. Then the helicopter emerged from the smoke, and some cheered. But the helicopter itself was pouring out more smoke, and rapidly losing altitude. Still, the craft accelerated toward its destination, the extra thrust being the only thing that might keep it from crashing first. Volunteers scattered as the helicopter miraculously cleared the roof edge, far too narrowly to inspire any faith in a similar miracle when the craft reached the upper roof a fraction of a second later. Yet, indeed, the pilot managed to nose up just enough for the skids touch down fully on the roof. But then the helicopter bounced and bucked, smashing its tail and then slamming down on crumpling landing gear. Only Austin stood his ground as the craft skidded to a halt.

The pilot threw open the door of the cockpit, shouting for help, and after a moment of mixed confusion and hesitation, the volunteers rushed in, the majority unloading the cargo while the remainder either fought off curious zombies or tried semi-effectually to put out the fire in the helicopter's engines. But Austin only stood, blinking as the drooping, disengaged blades of the main rotor continued to swash lazily through the air mere inches from his eyes.

As night descended, gunfire rang through the rear of the mall, including a blast from the HIWS, covering a retreat from the last posts at the central rear entrance to Sur La Table. Austin's voice was flat as he made his report: "I regret to report that the helicopter is completely irreparable. However, there is good reason to believe that many components can be salvaged. Of the four crew of the helicopter, three survived, including pilot Detroit Michigan, who acted with great skill and heroism in landing the heavily damaged craft, containing an engine fire in the downed craft and overseeing the successful recovery of the vast majority of the cargo.

"At present, we estimate that there are 25 thousand of the infected already inside the mall and casino, 50 thousand immediately outside the structure, and anywhere between 25 and 50 thousand gathered as secondary swarms in the surrounding area. We are therefore, literally, under attack by half of all the zombies in Vegas. Despite the setbacks we have suffered, we are confident that we can maintain our positions and continue to eliminate the infected for three more days without resupply."

Krista's voice came in reply, slightly quavering. "Thank you... for the report," she said. "Thank you for the report. But I'm afraid... things just changed, and not just because of the helicopter." She took a deep breath and continued, "One hour ago, the Fremont Street Alliance was attacked by an M60 tank."