Namalsk Zombies

Namalsk Zombies

  By Charles Miller

  Copyright 2012 Charles Miller

  Namalsk Zombies

  First we hear them. They sounded like a wave of death headed our way. There were just three of us, all with M1014 shotguns. All that stood between us and the infested lands of the south was a single sandbag wall and a flimsy barbed wire fence. We knew we couldn’t hold our position, but we tried anyway.

  The screams became louder and louder until we could barely hear ourselves talk. I radioed HQ and told them that we had made contact with a large horde, but they weren’t going to do anything about it. The island of Namalsk had become all but a lost cause to the US military, besides a few guards, we were the all that was left of the well trained soldiers on the island.

  We were defending the southern tip of the main island. To the south is another island connected by a slim piece of land and a bridge. The zombies doubtlessly would have no issue crossing, and by the growing intensity of the screams, they weren’t.

  “Get ready men” I told them. Not that I would need to, they were ready. If we held this crossing for another day, we might have a chance to get out. But if we lost it, we had an old rusty truck a few meters behind us, ready to go.

  The first zombies topped the hill, sprinting. These were no slow hobbling zombies, these had speed, and these had ferocity. A leg shot could make them fall over, but then they would just crawl right up to you. A direct upper body shot with a shotgun with buckshot was the best method, and so we were given a shotgun and a few shells, and that was it. Because no one thought we could hold out anyway.

  After the first one more and more topped the hill. We started firing. One by one they fell, but it clearly wasn’t enough. After we shot one, another would be right behind it. Screaming. Their screams would cause most people to run on the spot, but we had nearly become numb to it, after months of fighting on the islands.

  We soon began to realize the size of the horde. It was nothing like anything I had seen before. We hadn’t even scratched the surface, and they were getting much closer. We kept firing, we had started by picking our targets, but now it had become a giant mass of flesh that couldn’t be missed. The fear started creeping in, our reloads became slower as they ran closer, and our aim became shakier. I realized it was just a matter of time until we were overrun. When they got within 10 meters of us it was all over. I took a few steps back, my friends didn’t notice. I radioed HQ.

  “HQ, this is SIX! We have been overrun by a large enemy horde, over!” I yelled.

  “Roger that Six, retreat back to the Old Yard and hold it as long as possible, Out.” The calm voice responded.

  The zombies were running into the sandbags and the wire fence, the fence wouldn’t hold long. My friends were screaming, shooting, running. I was already at the truck. They had no chance. The zombies were upon them in seconds. All I could do is get in and drive, and that’s just what I did.

  Death was something I had grown accustomed to over the weeks on the islands. Theses zombies were not like what you see in movies. They were more like rabid humans with an intense lust for their own kind. It started on these islands, by the Namalsk Corporation, the almost cliché evil corp. that I used to work for.

  I pulled into the Yard, an old are where coal was stored, it is surrounded by a 10ft stone wall and there are only 2 entrances. One entrance facing the South, one the North. The South is guarded by 2 Marines armed with only MP5s. They see the fear on my face, they don’t say a word. The screams are once again growing stronger in the distance.

  One looks at me, I look back. He nods. They may be wearing marine uniforms, but by their faces these men are obviously locals. This is their home, and they are determined to defend their home town, Vorkuta, that is just to the North-East. The first few top the hill, the horde has begun to spread out, heading in different directions around the island. Some assumedly went straight for Vorkuta, some into the woods, and some followed me to the Old Yard. The fog distorts the size of this splinter group of zombies, but I can tell it’s large, spread out, but still very large.

  The ‘Marines’ open fire first with their weapons, which have a slightly larger effective range than my shotgun. Their rounds start finding the zombies, but the weak 9mm rounds are made weaker by the distance and it takes almost an entire magazine to bring down one. The other soldier isn’t even able to hit his mark.

  By this time the horde got much closer, I began firing. My first shot hit one on the leg, making it flip over and stop. My second was much more productive; the distance made the buckshot spread out enough that I hit three different zeds in the head. My following shots all hit their mark, taking out one or two at a time. I reloaded and emptied my shotgun again. The horde was down to only about eight by now, but they were much closer. I backed off while reloading and the zombies slammed into the men. One was killed instantly, while the other managed to shoot two before he was bitten also.

  I shot the remaining zombies, and headed back to the truck. There was about 20 approaching, and I radioed HQ.

  “HQ this is Six, we couldn’t hold them, I’m OK, but the Yard is lost, over”

  “Six, this is HQ, Copy that, the Vorkuta defense needs your help now, Out”

  I was starting the old engine just as I heard one slam into the tailgate and two hit the passenger side. One got underneath the chassis and started ripping at things. The engine stopped turning over and I pulled out my M9. I unlocked the doors and kicked mine open. The one that was at the tailgate started coming my way. My first shot hit its shoulder and the second above the right eye, it went down.

  The one under the truck grabbed my foot and pulled me down. I hit the ground hard on my left arm. I rolled over on my back and shot it on the top of its head. I looked up to see the third circling the front, I unloaded the rest of my rounds into its chest, it fell over. I reloaded and finished it off.

  Above the gunshots I heard the screams of more that had been attracted to the fight at the Yard, and I started running. I left the yard and pulled the gate closed. It would hold them for a few seconds. The outskirts of Vorkuta were only about 400 meters from the Yard, and I thought I could make it. The zombies were screaming behind me, but I couldn’t see them through the pines. I almost fell into a pond at the bottom of steep hill, but I stopped just in time and quickly sidestepped. The zombies that were directly behind me didn’t have the reaction time. They fell headlong down the slope, into the deep pond. When I reached the crossroads of the road from the south and the road from the Yard I saw the horde coming.

  It had seemed to regroup after the Yard; they were headed directly to Vorkuta, no doubt about it. And they saw me. The last 100 meters were the worst. The deafening screams coming ever closer. These things never stop, ever.

  The gate to Vorkuta was torn open. Two soldiers were standing among about 20 zombie carcasses. They saw my gun and lowered their weapons, then ushered me in. Behind them was an ammo box with buckshot shells. They were armed with Special Forces’ M4s, complete with EoTech Holographic sights and lasers. They knew who I was, and they were glad to see me. They had held off what I wasn’t able at the Old Yard, so I trusted them, I assumed they were locals too, just better trained. They might have been police, Vorkuta wasn’t the nicest place.

  Vorkuta was a cluster of large Sovietesque apartment buildings and little else. Food was shipped in from the port to the West and the men worked in the mines to the South and the women worked in the farm to the East. There were no schools. It was a hard life, but they liked Namalsk, for some convoluted reason. It isn’t for me to judge, I decided.

  The horde drew closer, I we started to see them through the pine grove that surrounded Vorkuta, and they fired off a couple M203 Grenades and I picked my targets
with my shotgun. They soon started picking off targets with single shot. And I emptied my gun. I reloaded and as the horde drew closer and they switched to fully automatic, unloading their entire magazines into the horde before us. The gate was the choke point. I held it while they fell back into the city. Then I emptied my weapon and I fell back behind them. And I, once again, radioed HQ.

  “HQ, the zombies are in Vorkuta, do you have any orders for me? Over.”

  “Copy Six, there is an old Ural truck in the center of town, I have instructed the soldiers to lead the horde away from you to allow your escape, Out.”

  Why does HQ want me alive so badly? I ask myself.

  I listen to them, however. It’s my only hope. I get in the truck and HQ contacts me again.

  “Drive right through the horde, back out the entrance you defended, and head straight to the Northern Military base, Out.”

  The truck starts right up with almost a roar. Fear makes me grip the wheel; this seems like a death run, almost Kamikaze. The other soldiers are exploiting the zombies’ weakness; they have a hard time in buildings. So the horde is mostly surrounding the building, but there are still about 40 in my direction. I put the pedal down, and the engine roars. The truck is the standard issue for the Russian Armed Forces, but it was made to withstand bullets, not bodies.

  The horde sees me and starts sprinting at me. I turn on the windshield wipers. The two soldiers use this as their chance to move out, they head to the east entrance. The truck slams into them, they are sprinting so many bounce harmlessly to the side, but plenty take a direct hit, the rotten blood splashing on the windshield. The truck slows, but it doesn’t stop. I can hear the engine roaring over the screams, the RPM is in the red, but I don’t care. The wheels spin for a few seconds, but then I’m out.

  I run over the fallen gate, hitting a few more stragglers and head west to the Northern Military Base (It doesn’t really have an official name). It took about 5 minutes, when I get there a spotlight and headlights blind me. I pulled over, put my hands up, and they let me in. The headlights are coming from a blacked out SUV with an M134 7.62mm minigun on top. This weapon is mainly left to aircraft, but this was obviously an exception. The sight gave me hope, and what I saw next was even better. Further within the base I see what appears to be an entire squad of Marine Force Recon.

  HQ decided Namalsk was important after all, sure the infection has spread outside of Namalsk, but they must have decided that the source of the infection should be at least held, if we are ever going to be able to figure out how the Namalsk Corporation started this outbreak.

  They told me to go pick up an AA-12 from the ammo box. The AA-12, a weapon I have only dreamed about using, 20 round drum, high explosive and buckshot ammunition. Reload time much shorter than the M1014, a mere semiautomatic shotgun. The AA-12 is fully automatic.

  With my confidence restored, and the ominous howl of zombies in the distance, I took my place at the entrance to the base. We cocked our weapons, looked each other in the eye, and we knew we had to hold the base. This was the last strong outpost on Namalsk, if the base fell, Namalsk would fall.

  The M134 opened up first, the gunner had a higher angle than us, and he could see over the low-lying fog that plagues the island. The weapon fired so fast you couldn’t even hear the individual shots. Bullet casings spilled off over the SUV and started piling up around the vehicle. Hopefully it has a large ammo supply, because he was burning right through it.

  The horde increased and I opened fire. The weapon absorbed most of the recoil but it was still bucking in my hands. I switched to Semi-Auto and picked my targets. The High-Explosive ammo blew the zombies apart. As I was firing the M134 seized up, out of ammo. I swore to myself and reloaded, this time with buckshot ammunition for close range. As soon as the man with a Mk-48 light machine gun stopped to reload I opened up. They started dropping again, but it was obvious I couldn’t hold. We fell back into the base. The Marines had formed a line they were determined to hold, and as soon as the zombies stopped at the vehicle they opened fire.

  For once the sound of the screams were drowned out, we burned right though our magazines, and started taking turns reloading. We only got through about 2 magazines when they reached us. The leader of the Marines told me to get out and radio HQ. They had a plan.

  The marines stayed back to hold the zombies back as long as possible, but they knew it was a losing battle. I got about 200 meters outside the base and radioed HQ.

  “HQ! Come in HQ!” I noticed the panic in my voice.

  “Copy Six, what is your situation?”

  “The base has been overrun, I was told to radio in.”

  A pause.

  “Copy that, Six, we are patching you over”

  Another Pause.

  “Six this is Sabre, confirm the need to deliver the strike, Over.”

  Strike? No wonder they told me to leave, they want to kill as many zombies as possible while they are together.

  “Copy that Sabre, deliver the package on the Northern Military Base, over.”

  “Roger, strike inbound, hold on to your pants, Out”

  In a matter of seconds I hear the growl of a military fighter, the firing stops, and I see three large bombs explode in perfect unison on the base, utterly destroying it. There is a fine red mist in the dust cloud, and the firing stops.

  I stare out there again. They paid the ultimate price to save Namalsk, or what’s left of it. I start walking to the port to the north, were there is surely a boat waiting to take me back. My job is done here.

  The first thing I realize is the trickle of blood down the sides of my face, coming from my ears. I can’t hear myself walk. I yell. I can’t hear myself at all. The explosion must have taken out my eardrums.

  The zombie screaming may have stopped, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I turned around to see the horde, as big as ever, barreling down on me. I bring up my AA-12 and fire off an entire magazine into the pack, and then I sprint.

  I run like I’ve never run before, it only about 200 meters to the ports outskirts, but it seems like kilometer. The zombies just keep on getting closer, and there is nothing I can do about it.

  The entrance to the port is guarded by 2 men, with MP5s, just like at the Yard. They were firing away, so I just ran right past them. They weren’t going to stand a chance anyway. The port was deserted, just like Vorkuta. On the docks was a PBX inflatable boat tied up. I ran down the stairs and jumped on it. I quickly untied it and fired up the engine. The zombies ran straight off the docks and into the water, sinking like rocks.

  The island of Namalsk was Overrun.