Life Goes On by Tayell, Frank (large ebook reader txt) 📗

“Only a third?” Hawker said. “That’s good. Send Toppley back to Inhambane with Zendaya.” He pointed to the guide who’d met them at the end of the bridge. “Send Zach with them, and any of the injured nurses who can’t run.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding. “What about the scientists?”

“They’re competent shots, and calm in a crisis,” Hawker said. “They can stay. We’ll send the nurses to the rear to rest. Take on the next wave ourselves. The third wave is when things will get tight.” He pointed to the dozer on the extreme right. “That machine moved five centimetres in the last attack. It’ll move more in the next.”

Tess turned to look, but was distracted by a shout.

“Inbound!” Clyde called.

Tess turned towards the far end of the bridge. Three zoms had made it around the furthest barricade. But Clyde was pointing north.

A helicopter, approaching at a height of fifty metres, was following the road. The copter banked east, crossing the river.

“Must be the Kiwis,” Tess said.

“That’s a U.S. Coastguard Seahawk,” Hawker said, just before a machine gun opened fire. “An up-gunned Seahawk,” he added. “Sounds like a fifty-cal.”

Mounted in the open cabin door, the machine gun unleashed a hail of lead into the ranks of the undead massed beyond the bridge. Added to the burr of the rotors, the sound tore up the sky while the bullets tore through the dead souls tramping through the long grass, around the trees, and over one another in their attempt to reach this new and noisy foe.

Just as Tess thought another five minutes and the zoms will all be dead, the machine gun ceased fire, the helicopter turned, and buzzed back along the bridge.

“They’re landing!” Hawker yelled, raising his voice over the rotor’s sawing burr.

“Hostiles inbound!” Oakes called.

At the far end of the bridge, a pair of zombies walked abreast, another behind, and more behind it.

“We’ve got this, Tess,” Hawker said. “Speak to the Kiwis. Arrange reinforcements.”

Tess climbed back down, and jogged towards the landing helicopter. As she approached the bus, she slowed long enough to hear an odd mix of Australian, Arabic, and Portuguese topped with laughter. She might not understand the words, and the bantering tone was forced and fearful, yet it was proof to her, and to each other, that they were still alive. So far.

A co-pilot remained behind the stick while two figures had disembarked from the copter. One had a wrench with which she was attacking the machine-gun mount, while the other was Commander Tusitala who beckoned Tess a little way from the spinning blades.

“Where’s the tank crew and radio-team?” Tusitala asked.

“We found twenty nurses here, armed with rifles,” Tess said. “Everyone else had fled. What’s wrong with your helicopter?”

Tusitala turned to look. “Impromptu machine-gun mount. Hurry it up, Sullivan!” she said, addressing the sailor-mechanic. “Almost lost the weapon. Our Seasprite was downed by—” She shook her head. “Another time. How long can you hold this bridge?”

“Until the ammo runs out,” Tess said. “But we’ve already burned through a third. It all depends on how many more zoms come, and how soon. Those dozers could be used to crush the undead. We’ll need more personnel for that.”

“We must hold the bridges,” Tusitala said. “They’re our land-link to the continent, and our escape route from the city.”

“If we lose the airport, there’ll be no airlift,” Tess said.

The commander shook her head. “There’ll never be enough planes for everyone,” she said. “Medical supplies have run out. Drinking water will last three days. Ammunition will last four, and food will be gone in five. It would take a week to airlift everyone from here, but your pilot is planning to return with commercial aircraft, landing on an improperly extended runway. A crash is all but inevitable. Your people are Special Forces, aren’t they?”

“Three are,” Tess said. “Two are scientists. The rest are civilian-support. What are you planning?”

“Captain Adams wants to seize control of a ship used for the Madagascan evacuation.”

“Do you mean a drifting ship full of zombies?” Tess asked.

“One vessel, possibly two, should suffice as a temporary sea-bastion until a rescue fleet can arrive. We’ll repair the engines and make for safer waters. Unless you can come up with an alternative, we’ll take the first ship at dawn. Your pilot should return two hours afterwards, at which point, we’ll assess casualties, and better assess the possibilities. Agreed?”

The carbine fire was increasing in volume.

“We’ll need fuel and drivers for the dozers,” Tess said. “And ammunition. A lot.”

“I’ll arrange a relief,” the commander said. “When they arrive, you’re to return to Inhambane.” With a final nod, she jogged back to the helicopter. Tess didn’t wait to watch it take off, but returned to the dozer.

The second wave, already shredded by the helicopter-mounted heavy machine gun, was smaller than the first. After ten minutes, Hawker yelled “Cease fire! Cease fire! Only the snipers.”

Tess lowered her carbine, taking in the battered, body-littered bridge. The undead kept coming. Kept walking into death. Neither fear nor failure had any meaning to this foe. Objectively, she’d known it for weeks, but it was still hard to accept this counter-intuitive reality.

She jumped down from the dozer. In the bus, the bandaged nurse, Saleema, was repeating words in Arabic, which Zach was slowly repeating.

“You’re learning the alphabet?”

“Waltzing Matilda,” Zach said. “You’ll never guess what the Arabic for jumbuck is.”

Avalon had stopped loading, and had drawn a small revolver. Though it wasn’t pointing directly at Laila, her attention was. The nurse had her eyes closed, her head leaning back against the bus’s metal roof strut.

“Laila, how are feeling?” Tess asked.

“Tired,” the nurse said. “My sisters, at the rear, could you see how they are?”

“No worries,” Tess said. Outside,