Dead Island:Operation Zulu Read online

  "Team one, this is two … Team one …" She threw the sergeant a worried look as she climbed onto her bike. "Hale. Wickham. Anyone, talk to me." Silence. Brooks started her bike and headed back down through the jungle.

  "Captain?" Wu said in her ear piece.

  "I don't know. Can't be good though!" she shouted into her mic as she tore off towards the road.

  "Aw, crap!" Wu cursed, following behind her. So much for an easy pay day.

  CHAPTER 19: BAD GUYS 2

  The explosion was music to Arkady's ears. He gave a hand signal for the others to halt as the blast shook the ground around them. Only Kata, Nico, Dimitry, and Arkady hadn’t dove to the floor at the sound of the IED's detonation. The mercenary commander shook his head in disgust as he eyed the others, who hugged the dirt. This younger breed of soldiers was soft. All talk and vodka.

  "Get up!" Arkady said. "Get up. It's only the sound of Americans dying." He put a hand to his ear. "Can't you hear the screams? Beautiful." He chuckled. "Get up, you pussies!"

  "Cossacks!" Dimitry grumbled. "Get your asses up. We have money to make."

  "Is no money on ground," Kata smirked as she slung her AK and extended a hand to Yuri, who was still prone. "Up, Yuri. I won't tell your mother."

  "Thank you, Kata," Yuri said as she helped him up.

  "Is nothing." Kata smiled then slugged him hard in the jaw. The younger Russian stumbled backwards. "Just because you're my cousin doesn’t mean I will look the other way. You man up now, or I will be spending your share and telling your mother how sad it is you did not make it home. Understand?"

  "Y-yes, Kata. Yes." Yuri nodded, rubbing his jaw.

  "Good cousin." She looked at her bruised knuckles and grinned.

  "Let's move," Arkady told them. "It is getting late. Since we don't have a truck that runs anymore, we need to move it!"

  "Arkady." Gavril struggled to his feet. "Can't we please stop? The Americans are done. I'm not doing well."

  "No, we need to go." He looked sternly at the bitten mercenary. Gavril was white as a sheet and drenched in sweat. "We have the upper hand, so we need to exploit it!"

  "Ignat and I are both sick." He waved over to the other infected Russian. Ignat nodded weakly as he tried to stand.

  "That is unfortunate for both of you." He patted Gavril on a damp shoulder. "Dimitry, shoot them."

  "Wha— No!"

  Dimitry fired the American-made .45 twice. Gavril toppled over, a surprised look frozen on what was left of his face. Ignat's forehead exploded, his mouth agape. His body collapsed like a sack of wet cement. Nico and Alexi were quickly on the fresh corpses, taking anything that was worth money. The rest of the mercenaries were staring at Dimitry as he reholstered the handgun.

  "Anybody else infected?" Arkady asked. Silence. "No? Good. Now, let us get a move on."

  "Should we set up another ambush, Commander?" Grigory, another new recruit, asked.

  "Nico." Arkady looked over at the jittery explosives expert. "You think the Americans will be following us?"

  "No, Arkady. Not after that explosion. I assure you, the only way they could follow us is crawling on their bloody stumps!" He laughed then started a fit of coughing.

  "See?" Arkady smiled at the newbie. "All good, Grigory. Nico has assured us the Americans are splattered all over the jungle. Now, let us proceed with finishing this job."

  "Here, Arkady." Alexi tossed the commander a blood-stained pack of cigarettes from Gavril's vest pocket. "Didn't know he smoked."

  "He doesn't." Arkady chuckled. "American cigarettes? Bah. Shit." He shoved the pack into a pocket on his tactical vest. "Thank you, Alexi."

  Alexi shrugged as he stood up and shoved a handful of bills into a leg pocket. "Tell Gavril thank you. He was kind enough to share."

  Arkady bent down over Gavril's bloody body and nudged it with his booted foot. "Thank you, Gavril." The commander straightened up. "Enough stalling. Let us go finish this job!"

  CHAPTER 20: PREMATURE DETONATION

  If the Russian mercenary Nico hadn't been high on amphetamines and hung over, his IED would have shredded both vehicles and their occupants. Instead, the only thing shredded was a crawling deader. A fine mist of blood and guts splattered both vehicles. There was a loud bang but a very small destructive explosion. Both transports quickly came to a halt. The gun ports on the sides of the Pit Bull slid open as Newman climbed up into the roof turret. Aboard the Hummer, Mac manned the makeshift gun turret while the others opened the smaller vehicle’s gun ports.

  "What the fuck?" Clarke glanced out the Pit Bull's blood-smeared windshield. "What the fuck?" He looked over at Wickham, who was busy on the radio with Hale.

  "Hold position!" Hale's voice came across their truck's radio. "Guns up, and stay in the Pit Bull. You see something move, shoot it. I'll get back to you in a minute."

  "Yes, sir." Wickham clicked off the handset and stared out his window. "Just hold up, Sergeant."

  "I ain't movin', L-tee!" Clarke had popped open his gunport and stuck the barrel of his mini-14 out of it.

  "Hear that?" Wickham shouted to the others in the rear of the truck.

  "We got it!" Sergeant Winger yelled back. “Alby's up top!"

  "What's going on, Lieutenant?" Jefferson asked as he moved forward to the front.

  "Looks like a deader got itself blown up by an IED."

  "That's what all this shit is," Gonzo said, watching several small pieces of flesh slide down his black-streaked window.

  "IEDs." Washington shook his head. "I hate IEDs!"

  "Shit!" Newman shook his head as he stood up in the Pit Bull’s roof hatch. Blood, guts, and flesh were splattered across the rooftop. The smell was horrible. "They don't pay us enough," the sergeant said to himself as he scanned the area around them with his mini-14. Mac gave him a shit-eating grin from the bloody turret of the Hummer. Both men shook their heads in unison. Deep inside, Newman thought God had been on their side at that moment. The sergeant said a quick prayer as he watched for a possible ambush.

  Inside the Hummer, Zoe West sat with one hand on the wheel and the other on her rifle. Diamond was frantically looking side to side, watching for any bad guys. Major Hale was flipping through his small map book. He turned several pages until he found what he wanted. Hale grabbed up the radio mic and clicked it on.

  "Okay, Lieutenant, I have us an alternate route to the lab. It's a small horse trail that'll put us behind the target. Follow West out."

  "Right, sir."

  Hale hung up the mic and glanced over at West. "You okay, Sergeant?"

  "Yes, sir," she said quietly. "Now they know we're coming."

  "Hopefully, they think this stopped us." He turned around in his seat. "You okay, Diamond?"

  "I think something has come between me and my jockeys."

  "I thought you always smelled like that, Diamond," Mac yelled down.

  "We're all alive, and that's good. The bad guys seem a little inept, so that's even better." Hale showed the map book to West. "I have another route to the lab." He patted his mini-14 and smiled mischievously. "We find these fuckers, we kill them, right?"

  "Right." West smirked.

  "Right." Diamond nodded.

  "I hear something!" Mac shouted from above.

  The roar of two small engines quickly approaching put Newman on edge. He turned his weapon towards the direction of the oncoming vehicles. He clicked on his headset and spoke to the others.

  "We have incoming. Three o'clock." The soldiers tensed, weapons ready, then …

  "Stand down! Stand down!" Newman shouted as he saw Brooks and Wu drive their motorcycles out of the jungle and onto the roadway. "It's the captain!"

  "Stand down! Stand down!"

  Brooks slid her bike up to Hale’s Humvee, spraying dirt across the deader splooge on the vehicle. The captain killed the engine and set the cycle down. Pulling up her goggles, she unslung her rifle and looked around cautiously as she approached Hale's window. Wu pulled up next to the passen
ger side of the Pit Bull.

  "Major?"

  "IEDs!" Hale opened his door and looked around. "Apparently, it was a dud. Lotta noise and deader guts, but we're okay."

  "We heard the blast and thought the worst." Brooks looked back towards the small crater. "I guess explosives aren't their strong points. Everyone good?"

  "Yeah. Couple pairs of shitty drawers, but everyone is okay."

  "Should have seen the captain tear out," Wu said, weapon ready and watching his surroundings. "She was like Evel Knievel!"

  “Thanks for the quick response, you two. There wasn't an ambush, so I guess they figured the IED would take us out."

  "They were pretty confident about that," Brooks said, turning back to Hale, "which means whoever planted that fucked up, but why?"

  "I don't know. Maybe God was watching over us this time."

  "We could use some of that."

  "Uh huh. I've got us an alternate route. This road is probably thick with IEDs. None of the vehicles or any of us would survive contact.” He wiped some sweat from his brow then nodded at Brooks. “Go back. Blow the fuck out of their transport. If they have some kind of dinghy beached, take that out too. Hightail it back to the plane when you’re done, and make sure our ride home stays safe."

  "Rollie, you could use our guns on the target," Brooks said hopefully.

  "We need our plane secure more. We take out their boat. The plane's the only way off this rock. Take Sergeant Wu with you." He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "We get in over our heads, I'll call you."

  "Alright." She walked over to her bike. "Let's go, Sarge."

  "Thank you, Captain." Hale climbed back into the Humvee as Brooks and Wu roared off. He clicked on his headset. "Wickham, slowly back up the way we came until I say otherwise. Let's move it!"

  CHAPTER 21: ZOMBIES AT THE DOOR

  About two hundred or more zombies surrounded the main laboratory building and were trying to push, claw, and beat their way inside. Meissner and Hoffman, two of Wolf Zagers' security men, were prone on the building’s rooftop, watching the ever-growing horde of flesh-eaters below. Both security men were armed with PSG-60 sniper rifles. Meissner used the scope on his weapon to get a closer view of the hungry mob surrounding them.

  “We have enough ammo to clear it out down there,” Hoffman said, racking a round. “We can take them all out then get the hell outta here.”

  “Maybe,” Meissner said as he watched a zombie with a big chunk taken out of its shoulder pounding furiously on the front door. A female stood next to it, entrails dragging the ground from a torn stomach, mindlessly clawing at the metal door frame. Her fingernails and fingers snapped off in the process. A chill went down the German’s spine. “Wolf says we wait until the doktors are ready.”

  “What? Ready to be eaten? We need to go now!” Hoffman put his rifle to his shoulder. “More of those damn things show up, and we’ll be lunch.”

  “Wolf says they are working on some kind of vaccine for the infection.” Meissner yawned. “Once they are done, then we can leave. Hopefully, the American team will be here by then.”

  “That’s rich.”

  “What is?” Meissner looked over at the other sniper.

  “Germans waiting for Americans to rescue them.” Hoffman chuckled.

  “Ja.” Meissner slapped him on the back. “How about this? Americans rescuing Germans on a French-owned island.”

  “First time for everything I guess.”

  “Ja, I’m getting bored up here.” Meissner set his crosshairs on a huge black man gnawing on what appeared to be a severed leg. “Wouldn’t mind taking out a few of them damned creatures. Makes me sick just watching them.”

  ***

  Wolf Zagers scratched his beard as he watched Doctor Orlac and his staff scurrying about, trying to finish up the vaccine. The pounding, scratching, and horrible moans from outside the building were starting to get to him. The security chief could sense the huge metal doors start to weaken behind the pressure of the mass of bodies trying to get inside. The few windows they had boarded up were slowly starting to give way to the grabbing and pulling dead hands.

  Zagers walked over to Orlac, who was peering through a microscope, and leaned over his shoulder. He had no idea what the doctor was doing, but it had to be important. This whole operation was important. Wolf had been in Berlin when the undead outbreak reached his country. He was a captain in an armored division. Wolf's Leopard M2A5 tank had saved his life from a horde of thousands of the undead. He never wanted to be in that position again.

  "How goes it, herr Doktor?"

  "Getting there, Wolf, getting there," Orlac said without looking up.

  "Good. This building won't hold up forever."

  "Twenty minutes," the doctor said, pulling a slide from under the scope. "Give me twenty more minutes."

  "I'll see what I can do to buy us more time." Zagers unclipped the radio from his belt and clicked it on. "Meissner, go ahead and thin the herd."

  "You sure, Wolf?" Meissner’s voice crackled through the small speaker. "Our shots will draw more of these fucking things."

  "Chance we have to take, Meissner."

  "Got it, Wolf." No sooner had Wolf replaced the radio on his belt than the report of two sniper rifles could be heard outside. Wolf smiled to himself. Meissner and Hoffman would buy them some more time. Both ex-paratroopers were decent enough marksmen that they would not waste too much ammo.

  "Wolf?" Danzig stepped into the room in a hurry. Zagers noticed the smaller security officer had his big Glock drawn.

  "It's okay, Danzig. Meissner’s just clearing us a path. Keep your eye on the windows. Hopefully we will be leaving soon." Relieved, Danzig nodded and backed out of the room. Wolf hoped and prayed the rescue team would get there soon. If they didn't, he knew they would all be devoured by the undead horde that was amassing outside.

  CHAPTER 22: CHECK THE OIL, TOO …

  Crossley stood in the cargo bay and watched the aft ramp slowly descend to the tarmac. With the ramp control in his left hand and a .45 in the other, the pilot looked over at Jackson and Poncho and nodded. Poncho motioned for the co-pilot to wait and cautiously moved down the ramp, mini-14 point shouldered, scanning the surrounding areas. Poncho spoke into his headset as he moved out.

  "How's it look, Gator?"

  "Clear, lil' buddy." Knox swept the area from his perch in the damaged tower with his rifle’s scope. "No deaders."

  "Ten-four, Gator. Watch our asses."

  "Asses watched, Poncho." Knox spit out some chew. "Don't forget to check the oil while you're at it."

  Sanchez stepped off the ramp and onto the airfield and gave Knox a quick wave. Knox acknowledged him by waving his middle finger. Sanchez chuckled and thought it was a good thing the redneck hadn’t waved his cock at him ‘cause he wouldn’t have been able to see it. The ex-ranger swept the area around the plane again then looked back up the ramp at the two pilots.

  "Clear, Mister Jackson!"

  "Great." Jackson swallowed and smiled weakly at Crossley. "Time to go!"

  "Go get 'em, tiger." Crossley winked. "It'll be easy, Cal. You have the two commandos watching you."

  "Yeah." Jackson slowly walked down the ramp. "Thanks, Nate."

  "Hey," Crossley smirked, "I'll keep the back door open for ya."

  Jackson moved down the ramp and stopped on the tarmac next to the hyper-vigilant Sanchez. The soldier turned to the co-pilot and nodded. "What do you need me to do, Mister Jackson?"

  Cal took a deep breath and let it out. "See that refueling truck over by the hangar?"

  "Yes." Sanchez eyed the fuel truck that was about a quarter-mile away.

  "We need it."

  "Figures." Sanchez looked over at Knox and pointed at the fuel truck. "You have keys for it, Mister Jackson?"

  "No, we should be able to start it without a key. Should be a push start."

  "Great." Sanchez slung his mini-14.

  "You can always hot wire it, esse," Knox chuckled a
cross his headset mic.

  "Yeah, goober," Sanchez said into his. "We’re lucky it's not the General Lee, or you'd be trying to load it up on the plane so you could show it off to your sister-wife and impress all your friends in Chipmunk Dick, Arkansas."

  "That's Orlando, asshole."

  "Same-same." Sanchez nodded at Jackson. "I'll make a run for it and bring the truck here. What side of the plane is the fuel access on?"

  "Left. Left side, forward of the wing. I'll direct you to it."

  "Sweet. Here goes nothin'." The soldier let out a breath, shook his head and took off in a sprint towards the truck. Jackson watched as Sanchez quickly closed the distance between the plane and truck. Jackson figured if it was him, he'd be running like his life depended on it too. Sanchez made it to the truck, pulled open the driver’s door, and a body tumbled out, smashing to the ground. He let out a high-pitched scream then jumped back. He kicked the body to make sure it was dead then leaped over the unmoving form and climbed into the truck, shutting the door behind him. After a few tense seconds, Jackson heard the truck roar to life. The co-pilot smiled, relieved, as the fuel truck rumbled towards the aircraft.

  CHAPTER 23: HOLY SHIT!

  Captain Brooks crawled up next to Sergeant Wu, who was prone on the ground watching the Russian yacht through his binoculars. Brooks tapped him on the shoulder, and he handed them over to her. Peering through the binoculars, she noticed all the crew had left the deck and gone below. It was probably vodka time.

  "We sink it now, we’ll probably get them before they can send off a warning," she said quietly.

  "Sounds good, Captain." Wu grabbed the LAW-80 rocket launcher that was lying next to him and deftly removed the end caps and extended the launch tube. He then handed the weapon over to Brooks. The sergeant retrieved a second launcher and repeated the process except he opened the sight and clicked the arming lever on. Once he was done, Wu nodded at the officer.