Total Apoc 2 Trilogy (Book 3): Night of the Savages Read online

  NIGHT OF THE SAVAGES

  Total Apoc 2 Trilogy, Book #3

  By

  TW Gallier

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Rowdy Rooster Publishing

  Copyright 2017 by Thomas W. Gallier, Jr.

  Cover by Christian Bentulan

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and locations within either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  List of other titles

  About the author

  Night of the Savages

  Total Apoc Trilogy 2, Book #3

  By TW Gallier

  The thump-thump-thump of helicopters filled the air as a flight of Blackhawks flew overhead. I looked up through the darkening canopy of the ancient oak shielding us. It was barely twilight, so I doubted they were using any kind of night vision. If they were, then we would've been seen and lit up pronto.

  Our position was pretty good for daytime use. Not so much for night with an enemy with night vision tech on their side. We'd moved from the house at the top of the hill to a little below the crest. It was still high enough to afford us a good view of our enemy's base.

  We'd setup our base in a large home down the side of the hill. It was a heavily wooded lot to help hide our activities. At the moment Sean and the others were resting before their turn on watch.

  "I think that's the last of them, Roger," Mike whispered.

  I turned back to the airfield across the river. Our cheap gas station road maps named the airfield as the Cincinnati Municipal Airfield – Lunken Field. The muddy brown water of the Ohio River provided it was a pretty good defense. The rogue Army unit that inhabited the airfield had men in patrol boats on the river, and the Little Miami River that protected another side. I could see at least three mounted patrols moving back and forth on roads along both rivers. We'd already seen men coming and going from defensive positions along both rivers as well.

  The other two sides of the airfield were protected by a wide moat the soldiers had created, with a ten foot high fence behind it. They were pumping water to the highest point in the moat and letting the water flow back to the Ohio and Little Miami. That water barrier was enough to keep the horde of zombies at bay. The mindless, rage-filled monsters were crowded up to the moat and staring hungrily at the men beyond. So if those pumps failed…

  It would not be easy for our small group to fight our way through those zombies. The ensuing fight would draw the attention of the soldiers, who'd join the fight against us. Still, crossing the river to attack them seemed more suicidal.

  They'd see us coming right off if we tried to cross the river. Hell, they had more guards defending the river than we had men. After that last attack two nights back, we were down to just nine men, and one of those was a fifteen year old. Our wives and children were across the river. The soldiers took them from us. I think the women were their primary objective.

  I didn't like to think of why the soldiers were stealing women. My young, beautiful wife was their prisoner. The thought of Jenny forced to submit to them made me crazy. Worse, I knew they'd use threats against our children to get anything and everything they wanted from her and the other women.

  "I've never wanted to kill and butcher anyone so much," I muttered.

  "Stop thinking about that," Charlie said. "You can't think straight when that angry." He patted my shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll find a way to get them out of there."

  "If it involves slaughtering those bastards then I'm in," I said. I lifted the binoculars to my eyes and watched the helicopters landing. They actually landed in a different spot. "That's odd."

  The Blackhawks landed on the large concrete pad in front of the three main hangars and headquarters. There were so many of them that the pad was completely filled by them. I realized that was the largest "patrol" I'd seen since finding that observation post.

  We watched as armed men trotted out to the Blackhawks. A moment later, they began pulling women and children out of the helicopters. I perked up. Surely it wouldn't take them two days to bring our stolen women and children to that airfield. My excitement was short-lived. There were easily three times more women and children than we lost.

  "Ha," Mike said. "We were right."

  The captured women and children were led from the helicopters to the largest hangar in a cluster of three. There was an office extension off the hangar at the other end of the three that we thought was the Army unit's headquarters. As best we could tell the two hangars in-between were enlisted and officer mess halls. The mess halls appeared to double as brothels as well, since that was where all of the scantily clad women went.

  My heart was hammering while watching the captives taken to the hangar. I thought of it as the slave quarters. Jenny, Timmy, Harlan, and Spooky were in there. I hadn't seen any of our families, but I knew they were being held prisoner in that hangar.

  Once the captives were disembarked, the helicopters lifted up and flew over to their usual spots on the tarmac. The soldiers didn't appear to use any of the small civilian aircraft, which had been taken to the far southern point of the airfield. Their Blackhawks, Hueys, and Apache helicopters were all parked along the runway closest to the hangars.

  The only hangars with lights appeared to be the two mess halls, so as darkness descended the soldiers in the motor pools and hangars closed down shop and headed for their unit formations.

  I also noticed armed soldiers escorting small groups of women from various locations. I suspected those women were on work details, possibly cleaning. There were quite a few women, too. Far more than those stolen from us. The women, and some children, moved in a way that told me they were worked hard all day. The soldiers took them straight back to the hangar.

  "They're giving us an almost perfect line to shoot down," Charlie said.

  The helicopters were lined up nicely along that runway. Got to love the military for that. Of course, they could be reasonably sure no one in the Cincinnati area would have a weapon system to exploit it. Except we did. M2 .50 Cal machine guns. We had four left after that horrendous firefight two nights back. We
lost the five .50 cals mounted on the Humvees, but had left behind four at the barn.

  We thought the rogue unit, which apparently was calling itself the Rough Riders now, was from the 101st Airborne down in Fort Campbell, Kentucky. It could also be a patchwork of units and soldiers from both Fort Campbell and Fort Knox. Most of the hangars were turned into motor pools, with Abrams tanks, Bradley Fighting Vehicles, and lots of Humvees parked in front of them. They were at least brigade strength. And that was a lot of men for the nine of us to challenge in a firefight.

  "They are a little beyond maximum effective range," I said. "But still…"

  Four .50 Cals on that hill, shooting down a line of helicopters, would cause a lot of damage. I couldn't imagine us not destroying most, if not all, of the helicopters. If nothing else, it would take a lot of time and effort on their part to repair the damage and get them back in the air. And we planned to be far away by the time that happened.

  "All we have to do is figure out how to destroy their birds and get in while they're still running around with their heads cut off," Mike said.

  Even as the work details were escorted into the prison hangar, I spotted women being escorted out. Even from that distance I could tell the women were scantily clad in lingerie and heels. Light flashed off shiny jewelry. I couldn't make out faces, but I was looking so hard for Jenny. Heart hammering, stomach sour, I watched breathlessly until they were divided up between the two mess halls, and vanished inside.

  "Jesus," I muttered, my hands tightened painfully on the binoculars.

  As I watched, armed men escorted a line of women from the main mess hall to the prison hangar next to it. The women were loaded down with hot rations.

  "We have to find a way to rescue them," I said. "Failure is not an option."

  Chapter 2

  Jenny

  Pallets stacked high with boxes lined the back wall of the hangar. There was a single gap in the pallets that their guards periodically passed through on their patrols. In the two days we'd been incarcerated I'd seen enough to know the off-duty guards slept back there. From conversations with other women in other holding cages I learned we had a permanent guard detachment.

  "Why do you keep watching that hole, Jenny?" Fiona asked.

  "I'm trying to determine their routine," I said. "Maybe there's something they do we can exploit to escape."

  Fiona shook her head. "Are all army brats like you?"

  "Like what?" I asked, afraid I wasn't going to like her answer.

  "Crazy," she said. The pretty blonde swept her hand around. "What can we do? Can you climb out of this cage? I can't. So who cares what their routine is?"

  She had a point. The steel mesh that encircled us was woven so close together I could barely push my fingers through. There was nothing for our feet to get purchase on, so we couldn't climb out, despite there not being a cover over the cages.

  We were two cages back from the front, over on the left side when facing the front. To our right were no telling how many cages with other women and children. To our left were two more rows of empty cages. I think it was the goal of the Rough Rider soldiers to fill all of those cages with women. The children were probably only brought along to provide leverage against the captured women.

  And it was damned good leverage, too.

  The muted sound of helicopters reached us. Everyone looked toward the closed bay doors. We could get a nice cooling breeze in there if they'd open them, but even caged they were worried we'd escape.

  "Wahoo," Sergeant Coleman shouted as he walked out from between the pallets. He looked pleased, which was never a good thing. "I hear we're getting some more women! And some pretty ones, too."

  The tall, skinny black buck sergeant walked up next to me. He leaned against the cage, his face just inches from mine. That steel mesh was the only thing keeping my hands from his throat. He looked at me and winked.

  "Looks like you have some more competition, Jenny," Coleman said. His eyes dropped to my bosom, and then to my hips. Finally, he gazed intently at my lips. He liked to tell me he dreamed of the day my lips were wrapped around his "gun." That scenario was my own personal nightmare. "You better come over to the dark side before we don't need you anymore."

  "You're a pig."

  "I hope you like eating pork sausage."

  I scowled at him. My empty stomach rumbled and Harlan, my seven year old, whimpered. My children – Timmy, Harlan, and Spooky – were weak and miserable with hunger. At least they gave us enough water. Everyone in our cage was miserable and desperate, but the price for food was so terribly high.

  Complete and utter submission to their lusts.

  Just thinking about what they demanded of us left me breathless and heart hammering.

  Thankfully, Sergeant Coleman left to unlock the small door built into the bay door. I watched him walking away, dreading the day I'd be following him to ultimate humiliation. I looked at my children, and the others, and wondered why I was fighting the inevitable. We would not allow our children to starve. Though, we were told that they would toss us over the fence to the zombies before that happened.

  "This is so unfair," I said through clenched teeth.

  Fiona glanced at my suddenly trembling hands and grimaced. She had to know as the most beautiful of all of us, she was the one the men wanted the most. The guards all practically drooled when they looked at her. There were several of us in our twenties that were quite pretty even in filthy, tattered clothes and no makeup. Sara was oldest at fifty-eight, and was looking increasingly elderly since her husband's death. Nicole was forty-five, but could pass for an attractive thirty-five year old. And even fifty year old Leslie was lean and fit and caught the eyes of the guards. They wanted almost every one of us, and I had a bad feeling they were going to get what they want, too.

  My God, Roger, why did you have to get yourself killed, I thought, weariness seeping into my bones. I need you so much right now. The children need you. I glanced over at them, looking frightened and miserable in their hunger. I'm not strong enough. Oh God, I'm not strong enough.

  A baby started crying in another cage. Our children started getting misty-eyed. It happened a lot. One child started crying in the hangar, and soon they all started crying. Some of the women would cry as well. My eyes were already starting to burn.

  The sound of the door opening echoed through the stifling hot hangar. I fluffed my shirt in a vain attempt to cool off. Everyone in our holding cage turned big eyes on the newcomers.

  Two soldiers passed through first, and then came the women. I smiled when the first one through, a sturdy looking blonde in her forties, tried to kick Coleman in the nuts. He turned in time, but I saw the shock in his face. One of her escorts seized her by the hair, which elicited a string of obscenities.

  The other newcomers looked around with big, worried eyes. Most of the women looked to be in their twenties and thirties. I counted forty-three women and thirty-one children. The women were dressed much like my group in jeans and t-shirts or tanks. Most of the women had tattoos, and some even had full sleeves. They looked dirty and bedraggled, and more than a few were limping or had bloody noses. The children huddled around their mothers, even though their wrists were bound behind their backs.

  "What kind of monsters tie the wrists of children?" Sonya demanded loudly.

  "Shut up, bitch," one of the escorts said.

  The African-American mother of two glared at him. I knew she wanted to say more, but her son was twelve, and we worried he was getting too old to be in there with us. Her fifteen year old daughter, Whitney, was killed fighting off a mob down in Georgia. And now, her husband had died with the rest of our men. She was desperate to keep Terrel with her and safe.

  "Looks like they put up a better fight than we did," Kate said as she stepped up next to me. "Sometimes I wish I'd died fighting, instead of just surrendering."

  I understood that, but Kate didn't have children to worry about. The pretty brunette was probably my best friend among
the women. And she could kick ass when necessary, too. I'm sure she would've taken a few of the soldiers down with her.

  All of the women, and some of the older children, pressed up against the cage to watch the newcomers filing by. The soldiers took them to the next cage over. It looked like they were filling them in order, so I could tell who was captured first by what cage she was inside. There was one cage in the next row over, and closest to the door, where they put the single women in lingerie and heels. So Kate, Fiona, Willa, and Leslie would be moved over there after they submitted.

  More than one of the new women was putting up a fight. The mothers were all subdued, but the single women felt emboldened. A redhead lashed out with a foot at a Staff Sergeant standing close to me. She missed, but followed up by spitting on him.

  He backhanded her, sending the redhead reeling back into another cage.

  "Hey!" I cried. "Leave her alone, you bully!"

  I wanted to call him something a lot nastier, but the children would hear. He spun around and smashed his rifle butt into the cage inches from my face. I barely had time to jump back and pull my fingers away. He glared daggers at me for a long second, before turning back to his job. I stayed back a step after that.

  Another two soldiers stood just outside the other cage. One held each woman and child while the other cut off the cord binding their wrists. The prisoners were then rudely shoved deep into the cage after being cut free. More than half the children were crying by the time the soldiers locked them all inside.

  The Staff Sergeant stopped to glare at me before he followed his men out of the hangar. I couldn't breathe normally until he passed out. And then before Sergeant Coleman could close the door, the chow detail arrived, so more soldiers filed in with a line of weary, sweaty middle-aged women.

  The women carried those insulated field ration containers they used in the Army. I watched them, stomach rumbling, as the women divided up and started visiting each cage with children. They fed the children in each cage, cage by cage, and the single elderly woman taking care of them. They even fed the woman and children in the first cage of our row.