“I’ve got a visual on a hundred and five aberrations. About half of them are moving in groups of between fifteen and twenty. The others are ranging solo through town. No sign of survivors yet.”

Ethan said, “You’ve got twenty minutes and then we’re rolling in. Over.”

Mustin smiled. A deadline. He liked that.

He asked, “We taking bets? Over.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Number of kills. Over.”

“Just get to it.”

Mustin started on the south end of Main and worked slowly north.

Fifteen hits.

Five misses.

Twelve kills.

Three left to wish they were dead, dragging themselves across the pavement.

He moved up to Seventh Street, made his adjustments, and went to work. Near the school, he sighted down a group of eighteen abbies sleeping in the street. He shot four of them before the others woke up and realized they were under attack. Brought down five more as they scattered.

It went on like this, and he had to admit it was the most fun he’d ever had with his AWM sniper rifle.

With five minutes remaining, he shot three abbies on the road south of town, killed two more in the vicinity of the gardens. As the sheriff’s voice came back over the headset, he put a round through the head of an abby running at full speed past the hospital.

“Time’s up,” Ethan said. “Over.”

“Forty-four,” Mustin said. “Over.”

“Excuse me?”

“There are forty-four less abbies to contend with. Over.”

“Impressive. Is the fence holding?”

Mustin swung the rifle south, glassing the forest in the vicinity of the fence.

He reported, “The gate’s still closed. Now I can give you some cover once you get into town, but shooting down into the forest is iffy at best. Over.”

“Understood. You’ll be our eyes. Kill what you can. Tell us what’s coming. Over.”

Mustin reloaded the magazine and chambered the next round.

He glassed what he could see of the woods and the boulders that surrounded the entrance to the superstructure.

“You’re clear to roll out,” he said.

ETHAN

ETHAN

He rode in the front passenger seat of an armored Humvee, with Alan behind the wheel.

In his side mirror, he could see the metalworkers welding shut the entrance to the superstructure.

Up on the roof of the Humvee, one of the guards manned a .50 cal machine gun.

There were two Dodge Ram pickup trucks behind them, two men standing in the back of the first with pump-action shotguns.

The second Ram carried the chain gun.

Two transfer trucks followed the Rams, and a third pickup truck brought up the rear holding six guards in the bed, all armed to the teeth.

In Ethan’s headset, Mustin said, “I’d advise staying off Main. What’s your route? Over.”

Alan turned out of the woods and onto the road into town.

“Thirteenth to Fifth,” Ethan said, “then three blocks to the school. Any company?”