Chapter 22, the Command Tent combat strategy, and the chilling radio transmission we found during the chaos.
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THE IMPROVEMENT PLAN
[ ARMOR: MAXIMUM ]
THE JUGGERNAUT
- > DATE: Thursday Night (It is officially dark, and so is my mood)
- > MOOD: Sweaty, bruised, and feeling severely under-equipped.
- > STATUS: Barricaded inside a canvas tent with a radio that brings bad news.
Have you ever tried to stab a brick wall with a rusty pair of scissors?
That is exactly what fighting a Riot Gear Zom Zom feels like.
The Juggernaut clanked toward us. It was a terrifying symphony of heavy breathing and shifting Kevlar. CLUNK. Zom. CLUNK.
"Take the head!" Joe roared. He swung his heavy tire iron in a brutal arc.
CLANG!
The iron struck the side of the Zom Zom's reinforced helmet. Sparks actually flew. The impact vibrated up Joe’s arm, making him wince, but the Juggernaut didn't even stumble. It just slowly turned its helmeted head toward Joe, its breath fogging up the inside of the scratch-resistant visor.
"Blunt force trauma is ineffective!" Brenda shouted, analyzing the situation with terrifying speed. "Armor rating is too high. We need leverage!"
THE NERF DISTRACTION
Outside the tent, the clanking grew louder. More armored boots on the asphalt. They were closing in.
"Do something!" I yelled at Dave.
Dave, bless his terrified heart, raised his modded Nerf Maverick. His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped it. He aimed right at the Juggernaut's face mask and pulled the trigger.
Phooey.
The foam dart, equipped with its little suction cup and jingle bell, flew across the tent and stuck perfectly to the dead center of the Zom Zom's visor.
Jingle-jingle.
The Juggernaut stopped. It went cross-eyed, trying to look at the suction cup attached to its face. It raised a thick, heavily padded glove to swat at the bell.
THE CORPORATE TAKEDOWN
"Now!" Brenda commanded. "The table!"
Brenda didn't use her keyboard. She grabbed the edge of a massive, heavy-duty military folding table covered in maps.
"Grab the other end!" she barked at Joe.
Joe dropped the tire iron and hoisted the table. Together, they charged. They hit the Juggernaut dead in the chest with the edge of the table.
The Zom Zom, off-balance from swatting at Dave’s Nerf dart, tipped backward. Its heavy armor worked against it. Like an overturned turtle in a bulletproof shell, it crashed to the ground, taking a rack of radio equipment down with it.
"Pin it!" Brenda yelled.
They shoved the table down over the thrashing zombie, pinning its heavy arms to the floor. Joe stood on top of the table. The Juggernaut writhed underneath, its visor scraping against the underside of the plastic, groaning furiously.
"Get the tent flaps!" Joe yelled to me over the noise. "Tie them shut!"
I sprinted to the entrance. Outside, illuminated by the moonlight, I saw three more Juggernauts slowly marching toward our tent. I grabbed the heavy canvas flaps, yanked them together, and tied them off with a thick nylon cord just as a heavy fist pounded against the fabric.
We were sealed in.
COMBAT SCHEMATIC
(Brenda drew this on a requisition form to review our tactical efficiency. She gave us a B-.)
THE DISTRESS SIGNAL
While Joe and Brenda were busy standing on an undead SWAT team member, the main radio console—which had been knocked askew during the fight—suddenly hissed to life. The static cleared for just a moment.
We all froze. Even the Juggernaut under the table seemed to pause.
INCOMING TRANSMISSION
"MAYDAY. MAYDAY. This is FOB Echo. Perimeter has not been breached. Repeat, the perimeter has NOT been breached. The infection vector is internal. Contaminated rations. We are consuming the enemy. Fall back to the subterranean levels. Seal the blast doors. Do not trust the MREs. Mayday. Mayday..."
The static swallowed the voice again. Ksssssh.
I stared at Brenda. She stared at me.
"Contaminated rations," I whispered.
"They ate the MREs," Dave whimpered from under the desk. "The food was infected. They turned from the inside."
Brenda looked at the heavy steel blast door at the very back of the tent, leading down into the bowels of the stadium. The door the automated voice said to seal.
"The subterranean levels," Brenda said, her eyes calculating. "That is where the survivors are. And that is where the uninfected supplies will be."
THE BREACH
Suddenly, the canvas of our tent ripped. A heavy, Kevlar-gloved hand pushed through the fabric near the entrance. The Juggernauts outside were breaching.
"We can't stay here," Joe said, stepping off the table and grabbing his tire iron. "That blast door. We need to get it open, now."
CRITICAL STATUS UPDATE
- > The tent is tearing apart.
- > There are at least five armored Zom Zoms outside trying to get in.
- > The one under the table is starting to bench-press Joe.
Brenda is at the steel blast door at the back of the tent, analyzing a heavy electronic keypad.
IT REQUIRES A 4-DIGIT CODE.
We have approximately forty seconds before we are overrun.
