“The effects of a barrage of tungsten pellets on the undead is something to behold! Imagine if you will that you’ve got a shotgun, one that measures twelve centimers across at the barrel. Then imagine the buckshot that it would unleash. In an instant, an entire army of animated corpses turned into pulp and spray. So much rotten flesh pulverized and burned clean!”
-Cpl. Shari Dixon, Remembering the War (2023)
The wheels of First’s Humvee came about in a tight turn, bringing them straight across’ the others path. Second and Third swung to the right to get out of their way, then drove through a thin cloud of their dust. Saunders’ driver yelled out the window at Whitman, who passed by at a mere five meters.
“What the hell are you doing, Billy!”
Saunders looked ahead and spotted the column of Abrams heading along the road and knew instantly. The tanks were less than 200 meters from the town and their target. The only thing keeping them from opening up right then and there was their desire to get completely clear of 1st Platoon’s vehicles.
“Bring us about, Reilly! I wanna see this too!”
“What?”
She motioned in the direction of the tanks. “First is trying to get a better look at the firefight. Give us one too!”
Reilly on at the passing column and quickly realized she meant. Turning their wheels to the left to avoid the column on their right, he shot their vehicle around and slammed on the brakes. First’s vehicle was now in front of them and to the right, wheels down and aimed squarely at the towns walls. The LT’s vehicle did the same, pulling to a spot just to their left with their driver’s side aimed in the right direction.
From the open gates, the massive wall of grey-green flesh and torn clothing continued to pour out. Saunders estimated at least two hundred infected souls were there, possibly more. And they were a varied bunch, with what appeared to be men, women, and even children amongst their ranks. Though rotted and possessed of that same white-eyed look of anger and despair, it wasn’t hard to see that they had once been a disparate bunch of people.
Her heart sank as she realized the terrible truth, the undeniable reality that was apparent from horde’s composition.
Jesus Christ, she thought. The entire town. Every man woman and child… turned.
The numbers simply didn’t lie. And it was easy enough to imagine how it had happened. After their forces had pulled out of the valley, leaving Espanola and the surrounding settlements to their fate, a few could have found their way through Sombrillo’s walls. It wouldn’t have taken much – a single hole or a fallen section on the eastern side. After that, with a stealth and enough time, they could have bitten just enough people to start an infestation. Without enough weapons or know-how, the townspeople would have been overwhelmed before long.
And even equipped, there was still the all-too fatal mistake known as hesitation. Confronted with former family, neighbors and friends who were now turned, most people simply couldn’t bring themselves to do them in. As often as not, that was how the virus spread, small acts of mercy leading to untold harm.
It was a story that had been repeated over and over back when the infection had first hit. Back before they had marshaled their forces and began working with the people to defend their borders and repel the infected. And seeing it now made Saunders feel incredibly sick and angry.
This was something that belonged to the old days. It simply wasn’t supposed to happen anymore!
That’s when the column of Abrams stopped in place and took aim. The first shot resounded with a massive plume of flame and smoke coming from the lead tank. A shudder ran through their vehicle and it felt like the earth itself was shaking. When the tremors subsided and their windows stopped shaking, Reilly let out a triumphant yell.
“Woohoo! Big hit!”
Saunders saw it too, the cloud of maroon-colored viscera expanding from the center of the advancing mass. Another shot from the column pounded out, flames erupting from the barrel and sending hundreds of white-hot metal fragments into the mass. Another section turned into bloody, gory vapor and scattered in all directions. By the third shot, the walls of the town were becoming slick with the guts of the undead, and everyone in the vehicle was screaming happily.
Everyone except Saunders. Given the terrible knowledge of who and what they were, how could the sight of them being blown to pieces be seen as anything other than a terrible tragedy? In so doing, they were preventing a worse one from taking place, the prospect that the horde might go out and multiply even further. But that didn’t mean she could take any joy in watching them die.
She found herself looking away, as more shots rang out and the tanker’s gunners opened up and peppered what was left with their .50 cals. It didn’t last long, and Reilly was tapping her on the shoulder within seconds.
“Sarge? You okay? It’s over.”
She looked up and noticed that everyone in the vehicle was staring at her with concern. She felt instantly embarrassed, worried that her sudden aversion to the scene might have been interpreted as squeamishness. They certainly knew better than to mistake her for being fragile, but that only added to their confusion.
“I’m fine,” she said, looking at the scene at the gate. She tried to repress a shudder as she watched the slick remains run down the walls, the wide puddle or remnants that were so thoroughly destroyed that they barely looked like remains at all. More like a massive spill. Naturally, she thought to ask: “They get em all?”
“No, ma’am. That’s the crazy thing,” said Reilly. “The last of them turned tail and ran.”
“Ran?” Saunders echoed. She was sure she hadn’t heard him right.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Cole, from the rear driver’s seat. “First couple shots looked to be slowing them down. Then the last of them just stumbled right around and tried to make a run for it.”
“I think their machine gunners got most of them, though,” said Reilly.
Saunders stared at the wall, her mind racing with this latest bit of knowledge. The gates were now perfectly visible since that the horde had been dispatched. The gore extended into the street beyond the walls, and the tanks were slowly pushing forward past them. No doubt they were pursuing, hoping to cut down the last of them before they made it back to whatever holes they had emerged from.
And that was the other thing. From Dezba’s transmission, he made it sound like they had been ambushed inside. She had heard stories to that effect before, one of which involved Dezba and Braun from before her time with them. But she had always thought exaggeration had played a role in those tales. But several hundred Whiskeys showing up at the last minute, ones which had previously eluded detection; and now, the fact that some of those Whiskeys had had the presence of mind to retreat in the face of slaughter…
The thought sent a chill through her bones. What the hell did all this mean?
“Sarge?” Reilly was poking at her arm again. She looked at him angrily.
“What? What is it?”
“Radio, ma’am,” he said, pointing to their squawk box. Saunders became immediately aware of the LT’s voice broadcasting over the platoon’s frequency.
“…report to Objective One to assist in cleanup operations. I repeat, this is Viper One to all Vipers. Report to Objective One to assist in cleanup operations.”
The other squads radioed in their affirmatives and Saunders grabbed the handset and uttered their reply. “Roger that, Viper One. Viper One-Five on the way.”
Reilly put their Humvee into drive and hit the gas. They formed up with the other vehicles and followed the trail of the tanks on their way into the settlement. Saunders tried not to look out the window as they came to the walls. She also tried not react too visibly as she heard their wheels passing over the gory remnants on the ground, crunching and squishing beneath their tires and making sticky sounds as tracked them onto the asphalt beyond.
