Ack! I got so busy with the weather and traveling that I almost blew it! Here’s my post for the BOD Zombie Crawl 2. Links to the other participating blogs are listed after this section. I’m giving away free eCopies of my book “Origins of the Outbreak” so don’t forget to visit the BOD facebook page and the website!
This is a section from my book “GNASH” which will be released by Permuted Press in February as book one of my “Washington, Dead City” series.
What’s that? Why are the Brits fighting in Indianapolis? You’ll have to read the book to find out!
07 December, 1759 hrs local
North Willow Farms
Corporal Saith Walker sat heavily against the wall and wiped the grit from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. He’d been slogging through this bloody city for three weeks, fighting non-stop against the zeds. Even though he grew up on the outskirts of Brecon, Wales he swore that this was the coldest he’d ever been. His unit fought hard all day long, then slept wherever they could secure while another company moved forward and continued fighting all night, then they would leapfrog with that unit again the next day and do it all over again.
Along with most everyone in his section, he had developed several illnesses that seemed to plague infantryman throughout history. He had the runs, which sometimes hit him so quickly that he didn’t even make it around the corner for decency before he had to drop his trousers and go. He also had a wet, raspy cough that was worse in the mornings, but his ailments were not any worse than what everyone else in the regiment had, so no one was evacuated out because of their illness. They all smelled horrible, regular hummers, which was worse than anything else. They usually didn’t notice it themselves, but every few days they would get a visit from the Regimental Sergeant Major and the men knew that they must appear absolutely disgusting to him by the crinkle of his nose. The RSM promised that when the offensive was over he’d bring up a few fire engines and have a regimental bath to clean away the weeks of dirt, grime and blood.
Corporal Walker sighed as he leaned against the wall and was grateful for the momentary reprieve to the constant movement and fighting. He was exhausted and his grollies were hitched up annoyingly into his arse crack. In only an hour, his section would find a nice home, break in, clear it and then get a spot of tea, a plateful of scoff and much needed rest. He was especially excited about the tea tonight. His sergeant borrowed a large batch of a special Irish breakfast blend from a coffee shop that they’d cleared earlier in the day. It had been ages since the men had gotten anything besides the Army-standard Earl Grey. It’s the little things in life, after all, he mused.
He just closed his eyes for a moment, but before he knew it, his mate Alfie was slapping his helmet. “Let’s go. I’m in the bushes too, but we’ve got about one more turn, then you can break out your bag and get some sleep, aye?”
“Crack on,” Saith muttered. “Let’s get moving then.” He heaved himself up as he spoke. He was so tired. They’d forsaken most of the normal kit they took on regimental yomps, but they’d quadrupled the ammunition that they usually brought with them. Even with that, there were days when the section killed so many zeds that they ran out of ammunition and needed an emergency resupply. Saith figured that starting off each day, he had at least forty-five kilos of equipment in his pack that dwindled to less than ten as they fought.
Saith and Alfie edged around the building and came face to face with a shambling zed. Before he could even fire a shot, it reached out and grabbed the poor chap who’d just woke him up. Saith sprung into action and used the stock of his rifle to beat the creature off of his fellow soldier and then fired into the face of the thing once it turned on him.
“Hold on, Alfie. I’ll get the medic for you!’ he cried to his mate. He yelled for the medic over his shoulder and saw the man running toward him with his kit bag.
Saith’s sergeant ran up as well and asked, “What’s the SitRep Walker?”
“Alfie’s fucked, Sergeant. We turned this corner and the zed attacked him. I’m sure he was bitten,” he told his superior. The medic looked over his shoulder and nodded that he had been and pointed to the teeth marks near Alfie’s neck.
“Shite. We’ll have to evac the poor bastard.” He pulled out his radio and called for the bodysnatchers to come up to his location for another casualty and then called the CO to let him know that the section had taken yet another casualty.
Saith said a quick prayer for his mate, whom he knew would be dead before dawn tomorrow. Then he cursed his luck at joining the one division in the entire army that was here in the United States fighting alongside the Yanks in the bloodiest battle of all time. He wondered how many more of his friends would be killed before they finished their mission and could return home.