Slaughterhouse

TWENTY-FIVE.

The unit pushed through the post, paralleling the main roads and crossing them only when necessary. They stuck to the pools of darkness that punctuated the areas between buildings and avoided the glow of fires wherever possible. They came across bodies—lots of bodies. Almost all were Klowns, but they did find some of their own who had fallen as well. One group of soldiers had apparently fought it out until their revetted machinegun position was overrun, and the bodies had been mutilated and torn apart, their intestines strewn about like foul-smelling streamers. Lee also noticed their gear had been left pretty much untouched. The Klowns weren’t interested in armament. They were interested in blood.

Paralleling Tigris Valley Road until it met Restore Hope Avenue, Lee turned to the left, leading the unit through the open areas between Restore Hope and Oswego Avenue. Some scrub and overgrown weeds lined the road, nothing that provided a remarkable amount of cover, but they could potentially hunker down and avoid detection if a unit of crazies stumbled too close. There were some storage units to their right, dark and vacant, completely uninteresting to both Lee’s troops and the Klowns. The unit marched as fast as they were able, taking a knee when they had to rest and drink to replace the fluids they were sweating out in the humid night. The sounds of combat were much closer, and amidst the chattering, sporadic gunfire and occasional explosion, they could hear the titters and guffaws of the infected. Apparently, the Infected were still cheerfully throwing themselves into whatever crucible the remains of the military had left to repel them.

Major Walker’s voice came over Lee’s headset. “Six, this is Wizard.”

“Wizard. This is Six. Go. Over.” Lee kept his voice low and his eyes out.

“Six, Wizard. Hold your pos. You’ve got a group of vehicles headed your way. We watched them pull out of the Sustainment Brigade area at Euphrates, heading your way down Restore Hope. Don’t know their target yet. Over.”

Lee held up a fist in the air, and the troops behind him took a knee. Lee couldn’t hear anything over the rumble of combat to their north, but he saw a splash of lights as a Humvee turned toward him, three blocks from their position. It was followed by four trucks. People stood in the beds of the trucks, hooting and hollering, each holding makeshift weapons. Lee pushed his goggles aside and brought his binoculars up to his eyes. He zeroed in on the Humvee, which was moving erratically. The soldier—or former soldier, actually—in the cupola was in full-on laugh mode, holding on to an M2 machinegun. The Klowns had apparently gotten tired of sacrificing themselves on the altar of combat. They were bringing some new toys to the fight, though the trucks they had liberated from the Sustainment Brigade compound were unarmed.

“We gonna do something about that?” Muldoon asked.

Lee thought about it. They had AT4s and M203 grenade launchers as part of their load-out, so the unit had the capability to stop the Klowns. But before he could order anyone into firing positions, the small Infected convoy turned left up Second Street and headed away from them. Mosquitoes danced around him, their tiny wings whining like small turbojets.

“Six, this is Wizard. You’re good. Looks like they’re headed up the engagement area around the Hays Hall,” Walker reported. “Over.”

“Wizard, this is Six. That was a Klown element. Are there any more in the area? Over.”

“Six, this is Wizard. Negative on that. You look clear. Over.”

“Wizard, this is Six. Have one of the Ravens make a circuit around the Sustainment Brigade’s motor pool. Give me an idea of what’s left over there. And tell me how long it will take. Over.”

“Six, this is Wizard. Stand by. We’ve got a unit overhead right now. Shouldn’t take long. Over.”

Lee waited, panning his binoculars across the area. There were other vehicles in the motor pool ahead, but most looked like trucks—nothing that really suited his fancy. The chances of finding anything serviceable were a long shot, but the Klowns had apparently discovered some live trucks, and maybe there were a few more left.

“Are we getting tired of marching, sir?” Muldoon asked.

“We might be changing the axis of approach a bit, yeah,” Lee said. “Got a problem with that?”

“No, sir. My dogs are tired, and I’m not the sort to pass up a free ride.”

Lee grunted, and dropped his NVGs back over his eyes. “Eyes out, Muldoon.”

“They are, sir. Count on it.”

Lee knelt in the grass, listening to the whine of mosquitoes and the hammer of gunfire. The rest of the troops silently held their positions. On the horizon, over in the direction of Hays Hall—the large, brick building that housed the divisional command elements—something exploded. Closer, amidst the burned out shell of the Columbia College building which was located over on Camp Hale Road, Lee spotted the fragmented wreckage of two Apaches. He had wondered what had happened to Major Fleischer and his aviators. He guessed they’d been sandbagged while trying to provide close air support for the troops at Hays Hall. At some point, the Klowns had been out there, and as Lee looked around, he saw signs of concentric defenses that had been erected, either by the Army or by the Klowns. There were bodies lying not far from where the element knelt in the darkness, and Lee could smell the rot emanating from them, a vague, sickly sweet smell carried by the light breeze.

“Six, this is Wizard. Over.”

“Go for Six, Wizard. Over.”

“Six, you’ve got what appear to be a few functional trucks, and that’s about it. Most of the compound is empty. Don’t quote us on the operational condition of the rigs we can see from the Ravens. Over.”

“Roger, Wizard. Any sign of hostile ground units in our vicinity? Over.”

“Six, this is Wizard. Negative, you look good. Over.”

“Roger, Wizard. Stand by. We’re going to move to the Sustainment Brigade compound and take a look around. Over.”

“Roger, Six. We’ve been getting traffic from Mountaineer. They’re broadcasting in the blind, asking for our location. Over.”

Lee motioned to Muldoon, urging him to get the element up and ready to move out. “Roger, Wizard. Do not respond. Over,” Lee said, rising to his feet.

“So we going in with some trucks?” Muldoon asked.

“We’ll get close,” Lee said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to get inside their lines and start making some mischief.”

“‘Mischief?’” Rawlings asked.

Lee smiled. “The kind of mischief the Klowns love—the lethal kind.” He turned and looked at the rest of the element. Everyone was up and ready. “Wizard, this is Six.”

“Six, this is Wizard. Over.”

“Wizard, Six. Is Thunder set up? Over.” Thunder was the designation for the battalion’s attached mortar platoon.

“Six, this is Wizard. Thunder’s ready. Over.”

“Wizard, this is Six. I want you to start moving. Get the battalion up to the Forty-Fifth Infantry gate. Once you’re there, pass on to Wizard Seven he’s to take his biggest and baddest and take the Seventy-First Cavalry compound. There might be some toys there. Once the area is secure, move the battalion forward to the Cav motor pool and wait for further instructions. Over.”

“Roger that, Six. Wizard is on the move. Over.”