Page 21 of My Apocalypse Mountain Man
"Old Pines is under attack," Sierra says, already moving faster.
I grab her arm. "We don't know what we're walking into."
"Tom's in there. Sarah, Jim, Janet. We can't just—"
"We won't. But we go in smart." I pull out my binoculars, scanning the settlement from our elevated position.
The scene is chaos. A herd of maybe fifty zombies is pressing against Old Pines' western fence. That alone wouldn't be catastrophic—the settlement has dealt with herds before. But there are people on the outside of the fence, living people, driving the zombies forward with noise makers and flares.
"Raiders," Sierra breathes. "They're using the herd as a battering ram."
"Smart." I hate that it's effective. "And see there? They've got people positioned on the high ground, waiting to breach once the fence falls."
"So what do we do?"
I think fast. The settlement has maybe ten minutes before that fence gives way. Once it does, the raiders will flood in behind the zombies, and Old Pines won't stand a chance.
"We take out the raiders controlling the herd. Without direction, the zombies will scatter."
"There are at least six of them."
"I count seven. But we have surprise and elevation."
Sierra's already unslingling her rifle. "I'll take the ones on the left flank. You take the right and center."
"You sure you can make those shots?"
She gives me a look that says she's not dignifying that with an answer.
"Right. On three?"
"On three."
I count down, and we fire simultaneously. My first shot drops the raider with the air horn. Sierra's takes down the one with the flare gun. We work methodically—I take two more on the right, she gets another on the left.
The remaining raiders realize they're under fire, but they can't tell where from. One tries to run. Sierra drops him. The last one makes it to cover behind a tree, but he's abandoned the herd control.
Without the noise makers and flares, the zombies lose their direction. They mill around, some wandering toward the settlement, others drifting away into the forest.
"Movement, east side," Sierra says.
I swing my scope over and curse. "Another group. Four more coming in with a battering ram."
"They're trying to breach the gate while everyone's focused on the herd."
"Can you see if you can raise Old Pines on the radio? Warn them?"
Sierra tries, but there's too much interference—probably intentional jamming. These raiders are more organized than I thought.
"We need to get closer," she says.
"Agreed."
We move down the mountainside, staying in cover. The settlement's defenders are managing to thin the herd with carefully aimed shots, but they haven't seen the battering ram group yet.
"There," I point to a rock outcropping that'll give us a clear shot at the gate. "We can stop them from there."
We're halfway there when everything goes to shit.
