Forsaken

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Mitch low shuffled over to the wall and helped the brown haired kid get his friend up on the roof. "Let's take a quick look at what you got there," he said. "Hmm, shot gun shells, hopefully we'll be able to use them soon, first aid kit, hopefully we won't need it but good to have, three handcuffs, might come in handy, what's this? Ooh, a .44, speed loader and shells. Really good, though I'm not a very good shot with a pistol, 'specially one this big, and a walkie-talkie, hmm..."

"...this is Officer Corbin," an amplified voice boomed through the night. "Cease and desist!"

"Man, cops are so stupid," Mitch told the two kids. "Hope this one isn't fatally so." He peaked over the wall to see the Scienqadaigists smashing into the cop car. Even as he watched one of them smashed his arm through the rear window. Without thinking he turned on the walkie-talkie. "Officer Corbin, sir. This is Bravo-2. Extricate yourself with all haste. Those are Scienqadaigist terrorists on powerful physco drugs. They literally ripped apart and ate the other cop. Repeat, get the heck out of there! Bravo-2 out."

 

“Damn you’re heavy!” Ken muttered loudly as he tried to pull his friend up, but between Locke’s weight and everything in the bag that he was carrying, saying that he probably needed more strength would be an understatement. Just as he managed to pull Locke up, with Locke’s own handy footwork on the again-abused pipe, an extra pair of hand quickly helped Ken to pull him up. As Locke managed to climb onto the roof, he lay on the roof face up, panting heavily as he let the bag slip of his back. Ken was sitting there as well, although he was more physically drained than Locke was, somehow.

Locke gave the man and Ken a thumbs up as he grinned, sweat trickling down from his forehead like a slithering snake. “Mission accomplished!”

Just as they were quickly checking their loot, a loud voice suddenly boomed through the dark night. Loud enough to wake up the dead, literally. Ken heard the man cursing about cops being stupid (Locke agreed wholeheartedly), although he personally thought that cops in general were just either bullheaded or hotheaded. Or both. The two teens saw the man took a peek over the wall before shouting warnings to the cop (who had just arrived) through the walkie-talkie.

Locke looked at Ken and nodded to him apologetically as all hell broke loose down there. He was going to rest for a few minutes… All the adrenaline rush had him drained. “Sorry, but I didn’t get you anything. And this…” He waved the gun in the air, “…is not for an amateur like you. Best keep to something light, yeah?”

“You know guns better than me,” Ken nodded as he sighed. When did things go wrong… Damn it all. “I’m going to take a look over there. Rest, k?” Ken told his friend as he walked over to the wall and ‘peeked’ at the situation, together with the man, observing. If he survived this, he could start writing about how he survived a zombie infestation in the states. Probably would become a zombie pulp fiction, but hey. There were certain groups that just love this kind of things.

 

As the mob surrounded her car and began slapping at the windows, they left greasy streaks of dark red and black on the glass.

CRASH went the glass in the rear door just behind her left ear. She was showered with popcorn kernels of tempered glass through the mesh separating the front from the back of the cruiser. Then one fumbled the door open and announced its discovery with an unintelligible guttural croak. The rest began to shamble around to the open rear door as well, giving the glass a rest for the moment.

Two of the mob crawled into the back seat and started clawing at her through the finger-sized holes in the steel screen. She leaned forward as they got a hold of one lock of her red hair and pulled it through the mesh.
“OUCH!” she yelled as they pulled her hair through the screen.
“Ew, gross!” she said as one of the maniacs stuffed the loose strand of hair into its mouth.

The radio squawked at her, “…Scienqadaigist terrorists on powerful physco drugs…”

Tom Cruise is behind this?

“…ripped apart and ate the other cop…”

Bobby! The gun on the pavement across the parking lot was resting in a puddle of something dark and wet. This is NOT happening, she thought, I fell asleep at my terminal out of boredom again and I’m going to wake up with permanent marker on my face.

“…Bravo-2 out."

Kathy ignored the thugs in the back seat and picked up the cruiser’s radio handset.

“Sir, you are making an unauthorized transmission on a reserved frequency. Please identify yourself.”

She waited for a response, but heard nothing. There were two silhouettes on the roof above the dumpster, and though she couldn’t hear them with the windows shut she was pretty sure they were arguing loudly about something.
She gunned the engine once to clear the mob. Half the crowd fell in their backsides and at least one fell out of the back and smacked it’s head so hard she expected to see brains. She pulled across the lot and stopped where she could open the door a crack and reach down to get the chrome 44.
Shutting the door before the thug in the back could scramble out and get around the rear door, she hit the locks and looked at the bloody ooze on the handle of the gun.

Bobby’s blood. Kathy started to sob.

The mob began shambling across the lot toward her.

In the rear view mirror she noticed a human finger stuck in the steel mesh behind her, the thug must have had his finger stuck when she gunned the engine. She reached back and pulled the finger through the mesh. It was seeping black ooze, not blood. And it smelled strangely of almonds.

She was startled by the crackle of the radio cutting in, and she waited to hear what Bravo Two might say. Was he the man on the roof? Was he a friend or part of the group responsible for the disturbance?

 

Mitch saw the cop car get mobbed by the mob, then it squealed away from the mob. “Sir, you are making an unauthorized transmission on a reserved frequency. Please identify yourself.” came over the walkie-talkie, but then a muffled roar came from the north side of the building. "Go see what that is," Mitch told the blond kid. He got up and ran over to the wall, peeking over quickly before running back with an even scareder look on his face.

"It's a bunch more of them coming, I'd say over a hundred," he managed to get out.

Mitch thumbed the walkie-talkie, "Officer Corbin, sir, sorry for breaking into your net. This is sergeant James Mitchell, 2nd, 3rd, 9th of the Indianheads. I don't have any authorization codes. I seem to have been separated from my unit. I've joined up with two friendly civilians. I'm out of ammo for my weapon, we have a .44 with a few boxes of rounds, but there are well over a hundred unfriendlies approaching our position from the north. We're over here on top of the Block-Buster. We would be most appreciative if you could get over here and help us out of this mess. Bravo-2 out."

 

As the roar echoed across the dark night and the man seemed to be requesting the policeman, or woman, to join them up in the roof, he began to think that staying up in the roof might be a bad, bad idea. Bad especially when they can’t get out themselves. Ken began to calculate in his mind the best course of action they could take from now on… Locke looked at Ken, his face as pale as ghost as he told the man that they were about hundred of those things down there approaching.

“We’re getting ourselves trapped if this goes on… but without sufficient fire power to back us up we’re not getting anywhere…” Ken muttered to himself as he stood up from his crouching position, pushing his palm against his temple. “Have to find another way to get out of here, if not… Those things will get to us eventually. Any ideas, Locke?”

“No. You’re the brain, Ken. If you can’t think of anything… I can’t.” Locke shook his head bitterly to his companion. “Looks like we can only hope that the cop brought something with her that could help us. If not, we’re as good as dead. Or not so dead.” He tried to joke to lift up the atmosphere. Unfortunately, Ken wasn’t really in the mood to enjoy it.

“Well, if those things are clever enough to form some kind of meat stairs just to get to us…” Ken sighed as he looked at the knife in his hand. “At least I’m bringing a few down to hell with me.” Locke stood up as well, machete in hand. Both of them trust that, somehow, this man in front should be able to get them out of here. Alive, hopefully. If not, well, they will die trying.

"Any thoughts what to do next?" Ken asked the man with the walkie-talkie as they prepared themselves for the worse.

 

"No, what I meant was the cop should drive his car over here, and we get in it and take off," Mitch told the kids. Just to be sure he repeated that over the walkie-talkie.

 

Officer Korbin sat for a moment to collect her thoughts.

In the past year she had grown to believe her Sargent, Bobby, was invincible. Now she sat in her cruiser with a group of shambling lunatics closing in on her and Bobby’s bloody .44 in her hands.

“Now don’t go telling the rest of the boys I said this but if you ever get in trouble, Kathy, just know I’ve got your back,” the memory of Bobby’s promise rang in her ears. She could almost smell his ‘Red Man’ chewing tobacco. “What do I do now, Bobby?” she asked out loud.

“You’re going to be fine, kid...” Bobby’s voice inside the car made her jump.

“Bobby?!” she cried.

“Sorry, kid, but I guess I’m dead. You’re imagining my voice. But I swear I still got your back.” the disembodied voice replied.

Oh great, Kathy thought, I’m losing it and hearing voices. But then she thought for a moment and said out loud, “Imaginary dead Bobby, what should I do? Find a way up on that roof or help those folks get out of Dodge?”

There was a pause, just long enough for Kathy to feel really stupid for talking to herself. But the disembodied voice replied, “Kid, I got a secret compartment in that truck I never told anyone about. I converted the truck to run-flats a few years back and had that crazy conspiracy theory nut-job out on Sleepy Hollow Road build me a lockable vault shaped like a mud tire. The spare tire under my truck has some goodies in it that might just come in handy in your current situation. There’s a digital keypad to open it and the code is 1234.”

Kathy was pretty sure she couldn’t be imagining this, so she asked “What’s so secret you would ask Silas Boone to build you a vault digital keypad to protect?”

“Just get the tire out and you’ll see.”

Kathy decided if she was going crazy she might as well enjoy the ride. But she wasn’t about to let anyone else know she was communicating with the dead.

She picked up the cruiser’s mike and hit the transmission button. “Bravo Two, this is Officer Korbin. What we need to do is get the spare tire out from under that police truck I’ve got my headlights on now. There’s something in there we are going to need. If I can lure these lunatics away can you get down and retrieve that spare tire? Then we can hole up on the roof or head for the hills, whichever you prefer.”

 

Mitch listened to Officer Korbin over the radio. One thing that got on his nerves was when officers framed their orders as questions, as if they wouldn't later find a way to ream your orifice if you didn't agree with their "suggestion", still there were the few young officers who realized how little they actually knew and truly listened to input from their sergeants. Maybe Officer Korbin was one. While the tall blond was adeptly loading the .44 and two quick loads and the not as tall brown haired was pulling himself together Mitch ran over to the ledge and looked at the new mob coming from the north. Suddenly a dirt bike sped out from between a house and a garage, and the poor schmuck riding it ran right into the mob, which acted as the previous mob had. "Poor bastard," Mitch muttered, going back to the two kids. "Dang, I don't even know your names. We'll have time for that later. For now, you're Corporal," he said pointing at the blond kid and taking the machete back from him, "and you're Private."

He slung Baby and settled his gear with a grunt of pain from his ribs. He wished he had some Tylenol with codein, he'd just have to bear it. He'd had plenty worse before.

"Here's the plan, when Officer Korbin starts the diversion, we head for the truck. Me first with the machete, Private next with the knife and this tire iron here, and Corporal covering us both with the .44. When we get there Corporal guards the drivers side, I guard the passengers side, and Private gets the tire container off."

Mitch didn't ask their opinions, they could follow orders, or deal with the consequences. He positioned himself to be ready to jump down to the dumpster and thumbed the walkie-talkie. "Bravo-2 to Officer Korbin. Sir, we are set to move on your diversion. I strongly recommend retreating to a stronger position, as this one will become untenable pretty dang quick. Bravo-2 out."

He hoped the cop would make it, but then he thought of what to do if he turned into a porkchop for the Scienqadaigists. Turning to Corporal and Private he asked, "Hey, can either of you two drive?"

 

Locke finished loading his gun with a wry smile as he looked at the man as he readied himself for the descend into Hell on Earth. If things didn’t turn out as expected, he could always choose to die by blowing his own head off. “Corporal Locke Lenster? I like the sound of that.” With that, he finished loading the .44 and pointed into the dark horizon. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything to shoot at.

“Whatever. Private Amano reporting for duty, sir.” Ken muttered to himself as he double checked all the items in his bag. Once they’re all in there, he hauled them onto his back as both of them listened to the man’s instruction. Both of them nodded at the instructions given. Easy and dandy, as long as they could get to the truck and get everything done. But then again, it would take some time to get to the truck and then out. But after the Sergeant grabbed the machete and before they started the operation where the question about driving came in, Ken grinned.

“Leave the truck to me, sarge.” Ken nodded at the man. “Doesn’t matter if the truck doesn’t has its keys on. I’ll get it running in ten seconds.”

“Wait, you know how to start a car without the keys?” Locke looked at his friend, dumbfounded. Ken had always been one of those goody-two-shoes. He had never thought that Ken could actually do something that was out of the books… Well, at least not on the books of ‘How to be a Good Kid for your Parents’.

“Heh. I read Dummies’ Guide to Carjacking. I’m pretty sure that I could remember the instruction…”

“Well, lead on Sarge. We’ll cover your back.”

 

"Good," Mitch replied. "I know I used to be able to drive, 'cause I used to have a picture of me in our Humvee, but after the IED I couldn't do a few things anymore, like driving. Nice to meet you, by the way."

The cop car started revving up its engine. If he was trying to draw the mobs attention back towards him, it was working. They started slowly walking towards the cop.

"Well, until he makes his move I'll brief you two as much as I can, in case I go down. So, this is what I can figure out so far. These Scienqadaigists are pretty powerful. They've clearly got pretty good body armor. I'm guessing that they stole a good idea from the Mormons and had all their converts wear magic underwear, but theirs wasn't just hocus-pocus undies, it was Kevlar. I know, I know," he said, seeing the incredulous looks on Lenster and Amano. "It would be unbelievably expensive to provide all those nuts with Kevlar undies, but what do you think the Scientologists do with all that money they get from Tom Cruise and John Travolta and the other kooks? So, body shots don't work. Luckily, they must not have wanted to tip their hand by giving the first wave any good head protection, so that's their weakness."

"Now, a person can actually continue to function somewhat with even a good portion of his brain damaged, believe me," Mitch said, tapping the jagged scar somewhat visible behind his mangy hair and scraggly beard, "I know. But if you get their brain stem, they're toast, no matter what drugs they're on. Shooting from the roof, most any head shot would send enough skull fragments down there to get the job done. But down on the ground, even a shot through the eye might not be enough, so if you got a front shot, aim right below the nose, from the side, behind the ear, and from the rear, at the base of the skull. All of those shots ought to produce enough bone shrapnel to put these wackos down."

"One thing we're pretty lucky about, what ever drugs these guys are on, it seems to make them pretty stupid. We'd be toast if any of them started using guns. I'm guessing that the Operating Thetan Scienqadaigists got Walmart to put the drugs into the vitamin supplements that all of the adepts were taking, kind of like that Jim Jones guy's Cool-Aid. So that's another thing in our favor."

"Next, the most important thing is ..." Mitch scratched his head. "Dang it, what was I thinking?" he muttered as the cop car started moving.

 

Kathy watched as one, two, then a third man dropped from the roof of the Blockbuster Video store.

She was already drawing the mob toward the far side of the parking lot just by revving her engine. When she lit up the cherries in full strobe mode and turned the siren to maximum gain she thought their red glowing eyes were going to pop right out of their skulls!

She pushed the gas pedal hard against the floorboard and listened to the Crown Vic tires peel rubber. She almost lost control as the cruiser fishtailed out onto Holiday Drive, laying down a cloud of smoke that filled the street between Aldi's and Rockford Industrial Welding Supply.

Her plan was to head North and stay just ahead of the mob making as much noise as possible. The unofficial speed record within the dspartment for changing a tire was 2 minutes 43 seconds, and though they were only letting down the spare, Kathy figured she should try to give them at least a six minute diversion.

She tried not to pick up too much speed, and as the road curved East she slowed to let the shambling mob catch up. She rolled down her window and smelled smoke coming from somewhere nearby.

Buttered popcorn. Was the theater on fire?

It was then she noticed the black helicopter circling downtown in the distance. A new, sleek model from the profile... That wasn't Cedar Rapids PD, nor Illinois State.. And it flew too well to be Fox News.

Kathy almost didn't notice the shambling woman approaching on foot until she was within arms reach of the window. The woman had black ooze dripping from her mouth and as she lurched and belched angrily Kathy again smelled almonds. She slammed on the gas and shot toward Buffallo Wild Wings restaurant and turned South again on local highway 32. She noticed pedestrians on both sides of the road, which struck her as unusual for a divided stretch of highway.

Kathy picked up the handset and said, "Bravo Two, I am headed back and should have a two minute head start by the time I arrive. What is your status?"

 

"Okay, let's go boys!" Mitch said as the cop lead the mob down the street. He took off in a cautious run towards the truck. Scanning the shadows as best he could whilst running.

 

The diversion was done. Most of the mobs were away, with a few burning eyes left behind… Nothing that they couldn’t handle, Ken thought to himself as they worked their way down from the roof and into the alley. Locke could blow their head off while Sergeant over there could probably severe their head in one quick slash to the neck. Another thing he noticed that although you couldn’t kill them without a direct blow to the head, or severing the head from the body, their body parts could be ‘detached’ more easily than a human being. A real human being.

“Let’s hope the guy hold an adjustable spanner somewhere in his car!” Ken called out to Locke, who was slightly in front of him as they ran towards the truck in a distance. Sergeant was far ahead of them, but Ken trust that he could protect himself. He seemed to be made for situations like this… although his logic seemed to be, twisted. “I couldn’t work with just a pair of hands.”

“I saw a toolbox under the passenger seat just now. I’ll get the tool, so slip under the car and start working,” Locke told him as the truck was within a few seconds reach. As soon as they got to the truck, Ken quickly crouched down and slipped under the truck as Locke run to the passenger seat, open the door, open the toolbox, get the spanner and quickly passed it to Ken under the truck.

As Ken took a deep breath and looked at the spare tyre under the truck, he was glad he told Locke to get that spanner for him. The tyre was fastened with bolts and fasteners… Something that he won’t be able to start work on without a spanner. As his hands grabbed on the spanner, he quickly went on to work. “God I need to work on my muscles.” He muttered to himself as his cold hands hold on to the spanner and started unfastening the nuts holding the tyre. He would need at least four to five minutes to get the job done… Damn these people do their work professionally.

Locke was guarding his side of the truck, scanning left and right. He was desperately praying that he won’t see the familiar burning eyes in the next 5 minutes.

 

"How's it look under there, Private?" Mitch asked as he heard the kid grunting and working at the lug nuts.

"I'll need about five minutes, Sergeant," came out from under the truck.

"You got four." He keyed the walkie-talkie. "Bravo-2 to Officer Korbin, we'll be done in about four minutes, Sir."

His eyes searched the darkness for hostiles. So far, so good, though he could still hear the helicopters somewhere out there in the night sky. "How's it look on your sector, Corporal?" he asked.

 

Kathy decided to take a closer look at the theater before returning to the McDonalds lot. There was definitely smoke pouring out the font doors, and a steady stream of people. They weren't headed in any particular direction until they heard her car engine. Almost in unison, they stopped, turned toward her, and started shambling directly toward the patrol car headlights like moths to a flame.

"turn off those brights, Kato," her friend's disembodied voice encode in her head, "or you are going to become the intermission snack!"

"You're pretty funny for a dead man," Kathy jibed to the empty car.

No response.

Kathy shut off the headlights, and as long as she didn't rev the engine the Crown Vic was actually pretty silent. The ability to cruise quietly through a neighborhood was one requirement Ford Motor Company had mastered in their efforts to retain their profitable law enforcement contracts. A few of the theatergoers seemed to lose interest slowly but the vast majority were still headed directly toward her.

She could see their glowing eyes fixed on her...and decided her duty to protect and serve started with protecting her own butt first and serving herself up on a platter to a bunch of glowy eyed cannibals as a distant second.

She turned the cruiser South again and started to drive South, slowly and with the headlights off. She could see in her rear view mirror a crowd of 400 or so were still tracking on her, and doing their best to keep up with her slow and silent rate of travel. They weren't very fast, nor were they very coordinated. She decided a little speed might be in order. And she was starting to wonder what would be in the fake spare tire vault.

As she pulled back into the parking lot where the three men were waiting in the modified pickup, with the headlights off she missed seeing the concrete island, and slammed the right front tire right into a sharp curb.

"Pop-crunch!" went the tire and wheel scraping on concrete with a loud shrill screech. No run-flats on this cruiser.

She was only a half dozen car lengths from them, so she decided to grab her gear and make a run for it.

She picked up the mobile dispatch radio, her standard issue 9mm, the blood stained chrome .44, and a first aid kit. There were spare clips in the glove box, and a shotgun and more ammo in the trunk, but Kathy was in a hurry. And when she stepped out of the cruiser into the cool night air she looked back to see the red-eyed maniacs from the theater were only a block or so away and the crowd seemed to have doubled in size.

Kathy sprinted over to the dodge crew-cab truck as fast as she could.

 

Mitch was first aware of the cop car coming back when he heard it's tire burst on the curb. "Now's the time private! Get out of there and start this truck up! Corporal, get under there and finish up the job, I'll see if Officer Korbin needs any help."

He ran off to the cop car as Officer Korbin got out, arms full of gear. "Can I help you truck that stuff, Sir?" Mitch asked as he neared the cop. He did a doubled take. "Holy crap, Sir! You're a gir...I mean a woman, Sir...I mean Maam."

Officer Korbin didn't miss a step as she ran past him quipping, "Glad you noticed that, Sergeant." She did drop a box of shotgun shells. Then Mitch noticed the even larger mob of Scienqadaigists coming towards them. He grabbed the box of shells then took off after Officer Korbin. "Get that truck moving Private!" He yelled. "Ready or not, here they come!"

 

He gave the spanner a last, powerful push and the whole thing fell on his chest. He managed to give out a huge, painful ‘Ow’ as the tyre’s force crushed his body beneath it. Well, the good thing was he didn’t actually die from it, which he felt fortunate for. Before he could tell the rest that he managed to get the wheel out from under the vehicle, the Sergeant began to whip on their arse again. "Now's the time Private! Get out of there and start this truck up! Corporal, get under there and finish up the job, I'll see if Officer Korbin needs any help."

So much for ‘comradely’ love.

Ken turned his head to the right and saw Locke grinning at him. He groaned and pushed the wheel towards him as he worked his way out. Once out from under the vehicle, he made his way into the driver’s seat. He wasn’t going to check on ‘Sarge’ and the officer just yet… He could check on them both once they were out of the area safely. Although after this event, he might have to redefine ‘safe’. As he sat in the driver’s seat, he looked for the car keys for a few seconds before giving up. The officer must have had the keys with him… Damn it.

Once Locke had loaded the spare tyre into the car (Ken had no idea why he was doing that), he saw Sergeant and a policewoman was approaching them. Great. He was trying to hijack a car in front of a policewoman. “Mum’s going to kill me…” Ken muttered as he reached his hands down and looked at the wire in his hands. He took a deep breath, and started messing with them…

And then, the car roared to life. Ken took a deep breath.

“Get your arses in here! ”

 

Kathy hopped in the crew cab and scooted across to the opposite side as one of the three men tossed the spare tire in the back with her and they all piled in the front seat three abreast.

As the truck lurched forward Kathy examined the 'spare tire' and found a key pad under a watertight cover ln the top side of the tire.

She pressed the numbers in sequence.... One... Two... Three... Four.

There was an audible click as the entire sidewall came free at a well concealed joint between the first row of treads.

Inside the 'tire' Kathy found a metallic tube roughly two feet long, a series of small cylinders and what appeared to be a dozen grenades all mounted in form fitting foam compartments. The grenades were color coded with red, yellow, and blue tape--though Kathy could find no markings to explain what the color designations might mean. But she did recognize the compact LAW rocket launcher from seeing them in action films.

Kathy resisted the urge to ask her spirit guide for information on the colored grenades, as she didn't need her new companions thinking she was of her rocker.

"We have firepower," she announced to the trio in the front seat.

 

"Go kid go!" Mitch told the private before the doors were completely closed, and the truck started speeding down the road. He didn't know where to, but it was away from the approaching mob, and that was good enough for now. Officer Korbin was doing something with the tire, and then said, "We have firepower."

Mitch turned around to look at what Officer Korbin had found. "Oh yeah, may I see that Maam?" He carefully took the LAW over the seatback. "Yeah, baby, we got fire power. M136 AT4-CS, 84 mm. Let me see those grenades." Officer Korbin handed him one of each color. "Whoever stocked these must have served a tour or two. Red is HEDP, high explosive dual purpose. Default setting is for detonation on impact, but turning this little notch here on the bottom sets it for delayed detonation at two second intervals, up to twenty seconds. Yellow is HP, High Penetration. It won't really stop an Abrahms, but hopefully our boys will stay true and we will only be facing some APCs of UN troops. And blue is AST, anti-structure tandem warhead, good for blowing a hole in a hardened building, then making hamburger of who is inside. It starts with a HEAT round blowing the hole, then the HE round goes off. May I, Maam?" Officer Korbin nooded at him as he put the yellow and blue rounds in his jacket pocket, and loaded the red one. "I'll just take a few more of these," he said, reaching over the seat to get three more red rounds.

"Officer Korbin, I recommend that we relocate to a safe position to rearm ourselves. If you know of a place that would have 7.92 mm AK rounds, please let me know, or barring that some more small arms for all of us. Private, slow down for a bit so I can climb back into the truck bed. The AT4-CS may be designed to be fired in a confined space, but it ain't no fun being in that confined space when it goes off."

He managed to not fall off the slowly moving truck and get a somewhat stable stance, then he pounded on the roof, "Okay, Private, take off!"

Out in the truck bed he could hear the helicopters off in the night air. Where they coming closer? He slapped on the roof again and yelled through the window, "Officer Korbin Maam, should I try to take out those Scienqadaigist copters if they get in range?"

 

Ken slowed down the vehicle so that the sergeant could climb into the back of the truck without much trouble. Although the sight of the burning eyes within the deep darkness was quite daunting, he was able to use his previous analysis on the sergeant's 'Scienqadaigist' (otherwise known as zombies, Ken added quietly in his mind) to calm himself down as he stepped on the gas pedal again to increase the vehicle's speed as the move into the highway, directly TOWARDS the city.

He knew that they should move away from the city, but the fact that there were more coming from that direction meant that they would probably die anyway. He took a peek at the rear-view mirror (and at the Officer and the Sergeant) before concentrating at the road. The city was a spire of burning light... He hoped that it would be full of life instead of walking corpses.

Suddenly, the Sergeant started slamming on the truck's roof and was actually suggesting that they should blow a helicopter off the sky. A helicopter that they assumed that it was belonged to an enemy that he don't even know exist... Locke might know, but he was too busy gasping for air as he sat next to him in the passenger seat.

"Oh God..." Ken muttered again when he noticed that, truly, a helicopter was speeding towards them from the air... And it was coming from the direction of the city... And he could barely noticed that there were a few flying 'things' following it from behind... "I really hope that our 'firepower' can blow those things off the sky if they're hostile..."