SurvivorZ: Grave Harbor

35

GRAVES

Graves fought a war on two fronts. There was the obvious battle, the one against the horde bent on scaling their walls and devouring everyone inside, and then there was the more insidious one. The struggle to subdue the terror compelling him to place his Anaconda .44 Magnum under his chin and squeeze the trigger.

In his chosen profession, he was no stranger to fear. It had its uses, both as a motivator and as a deterrent. The secret to handling it properly came from knowing when to let it out of its box.

Under their present circumstances, Graves knew that keeping fear at bay was paramount to surviving this cluster fuck. That's why he poured everything he had into the repetition of aiming, shooting, and searching for his next target. As long as his hands stayed busy, there was no time for his head to realize just how royally screwed they were.

The zombies at the gate weren't content to simply rattle the bars and die from their bullets anymore. A hoarse shriek from Camilla convinced them that the dozer-reinforced barricade wasn't coming down anytime soon. Instead, they elected to try a new tactic, and apparently decided to put their fallen brethren to good use in the process.

Graves knew something was up when he started to see them withdrawing from the gate, dragging the bodies down the driveway with them. In their alien language of grunts and growls, Camilla appeared to be directing them towards a new course of action. He tried angling himself to take her out before she could cause any more trouble, but it was no use. She was canny enough to remain behind cover of the smoking wreck jammed against the bars.

"What's going on?" Clint asked in a hushed tone. "Are they retreating?"

"They're regrouping," Graves replied. "I've seen these things do that before. They're smart enough to know when something's not working and make plans to try something else. Tell your guys to stay on their toes. God only knows what these bastards are up to."

Whatever they were planning, he figured he wasn't going to like it. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the men stationed on the west and south walls were left scratching their heads after the zombies tormenting them disappeared completely. They gave the impression of having given up trying to cross the electrified barrier. He didn't buy it for a second.

Camilla roared. Her subjects fled from her, dragging the slain bodies of their comrades left and right. Graves tensed and watched them go. In seconds, all activity in front of the gate had dropped off to nothing.

"Stay sharp," he shouted. "They're gonna make another run at the walls." He pointed to his right. "Clint, take some men and keep an eye on that side. The rest of us'll watch this one."

He considered the generators by the west wall. They were still chugging along, sending electricity streaming through their welded barricade. He couldn't guess what the zombies were up to now, but figured their plans must have had something to do with shutting off the power. As it happened, he didn't have long to wait before they sated his curiosity.

Something heavy flew over the wall, smashing into the electrified rebar towering above it. Lightning flickered and crackled as the pitched body settled into the narrow gap between the bars. The dead man's hair and clothing burst into flames a few seconds later.

Graves ran to the gate for a closer look outside. He spotted a pair of zombies holding their fallen comrade by his wrists and ankles. The monsters were swinging the body to and fro, building up enough momentum to pitch it over the original wall. He gaped at them, speechless, marveling at their ingenuity. Then it dawned on him why they were so crafty. Camilla was the one leading them.

Carl had dealt with enough of these wily undead pricks by now to suspect that something of their former hosts must remain afterwards. Something more than basic instinct. Regrettably, that meant the leader of this ravenous pack of animals possessed much of the same training and experience he had during the prime of his career. Muted though it probably was in that cadaverous brain of hers, it still gave Camilla's forces a better than average chance to breach their defenses.