(Somewhere in southern coastal Georgia)
Tim hit the magazine release. As soon as the empty fell away he slapped a full one in, hit the bolt release and took aim. He didn't have to look down to know that was the last one for the rifle. All around him the sounds of the girls' shotguns were being replaced by the bark of their .38's. A hiss past his ear let him know that Wanda or Peter was using their bow. They might still have ammo; they liked the silent weapon better. The measured booming of Delilah's Sig told him his wife was still in the fight. But it was only a matter of time now. Now it was time for the final fallback.
So close damnit. The information they had picked up told them that they were THAT close to the recently expanded edges of the safe zone. Horseshoes and hand grenades were all that close counted in. He wished he had some hand grenades. But he didn't and not everyone was going to get away from this trap. He just had to make sure who did.
(Two weeks after leaving Dalton's at the CSX Railroad Bridge over the Savannah River)
"Daddy what do you look forward to the most when we get to the safe zone?" Dahlia asked as the family took a breather.
Tim rubbed the scraggly beard that had once more sprouted since they had left the trading post.
"The chance to shave every day sweetheart."
"What about you Mom?" chimed in Angie. "What are you looking forward to?"
"Your father having the chance to shave every day so I can stop getting whisker burns when he kisses me," Delilah responded with a straight face.
Everyone laughed.
"Okay, let's get back to work," Delilah continued, "or we'll never get the chance to see you dad clean-shaven again."
Everyone pretended to shudder and resumed what they had been doing; which was getting an abandoned car off the bridge. Four flat tires weren't helping but it rolled on its rims as van pulled steadily backwards. Tim was driving while the four older children formed a box around the two vehicles, everyone always ensuring they remained in sight of at least two others at all times. Becky was waiting with her mother on the South Carolina end where they had uncoupled the trailer. Across from them were the remnants of three vehicles the family had already managed to get off the bridge along with assorted other junk, tree limbs and trunks and a rusted out trailer that had been jammed sideways in the middle of the bridge and had taken an entire day to move.
This was about it they all hoped. There had been room to squeeze past this last vehicle and they hadn't found any more obstacles. They had been fortunate to find an equipment shack on their side that had provided tools, chains and other equipment to help move the vehicles. That had included lumber of various sizes and lengths which allowed them to patch several holes including left by a truck that had broken through the side. That one they had managed to tip over the side although it had taken the jack they had used with it.
It was hard to tell how long the different wrecks had been on the bridge. Tim's examination indicated that they had been abandoned at different times, which was rather baffling as the truck they tipped and the trailer thoroughly blocked the bridge and appeared to have been in place longer than the rest. Had the others crept on the bridge and attempted to remove the obstacles and been interrupted by someone or something? Tim figured he'd never have the answer.
Wanda, who was in front of the derelict on his side raised her arm and gave Tim a thumb's up, meaning they had cleared the bridge. A similar sign from Angie on the other side told him it was time to turn and pull the wreck towards the rest of the scrap they had taken. He checked his side view mirrors, ensuring he could see both Peter and Dahlia. In a few minutes he stopped and then inched forward to relieve the tension on the chains. His four helpers swarmed over those and the wreck and in short order the van was free. Tim pulled it back to where Delilah and Becky, with much assistance or at least investigation by Tigger, were finishing supper and his gang swiftly reattached the trailer with the four wheelers.
The days were beginning to shorten from high summer and of course there was no longer any such thing as Daylight Savings Time. Supper was a little early but they were all worn out from several days of backbreaking work and sleep claimed them all quickly except for each one's turn on guard duty. The night passed without incident, as most of them had lately. On the morning they had carefully and slowly crept across the bridge. Tim had insisted everyone get out while he drove. An argument ensued with Delilah who pointed out her wheelchair was not designed to go over railroad ties. That argument was countered when Peter and Wanda scooped her up in their arms and carried her while Angie and Dahlia took turns carrying the wheelchair.
Once over they loaded up and headed south.
(Present)
Delilah knew it had all been going too well. After they had crossed the bridge they had made some of the best time since she and Tim had first roared out of DC on the motorcycle. Roads seemed to be open and where they were blocked it only required short detours to get around and back on track. Signs of damage from looting or panic were scarce. They had found two service stations and both had allowed them to not only replenish their diesel but find enough gasoline to top off the four wheelers.
What they hadn't seen was people. Any people; alive, dead or infected. It was troubling. But at the same time they knew they were getting close. They had by-passed Savannah and although sorely tempted to investigate Fort Stewart to see if the base was still operational they had kept going towards their final destination. Tim had even shushed them all yesterday, believing he had heard the faraway sounds that might have been a helicopter. If he had no one else picked it up for sure, though Dahlia thought she might have heard it as well.
She shook her head. None of that mattered now. What mattered was the situation they were facing now. They had seen much death and destruction, even before the infection. She and Tim, both separately and together, had chased terrorists and murderers and other assorted scum of the earth. But she never thought she would see this; people who deliberately used the infected as a weapon.
The ambush had been triggered by some sort of IED that blew both front tires and sent shrapnel into the engine. Most vehicles would have suffered serious casualties among their occupants but the former prisoner transport had a reinforced floor that shrugged off the flying metal. The unharmed family was able to quickly evacuate the van. They took up all around positions and scanned the area. A quick check by Tim and roll call confirmed everyone was unharmed.
At first it seemed like their position was ready made for defense. The old country dirt road they were on had repeated plowings to smooth it after any measureable rain which had brought the level of the road itself a couple of feet below the banks on either side. Everyone was able to stay under cover while looking for the attackers.
No sooner had the sound of the explosion died out than the McGee's were bombarded with a shower of noisemakers of all things. Shot from what sounded like a couple of launchers similar to potato guns. Tim must have located the one on his side for he popped up and let go half a magazine from his assault rifle and the bombardment stopped from that side, then on her side as well. It was replaced by gunfire. Not much, just harassing enough to make them keep their heads down.
"I don't understand it," she heard Tim say to pretty much no one but himself.
"What honey?" she called.
"What s their plan? They have us immobilized, they think anyway but so what? They're wasting ammunition keeping us pinned down but dug in like we are we can hold off any reasonable attacking force forever. The van is toast but we have all our supplies. I just don't get it."
It was then that they heard it. The low despairing moaning that signaled the presence of the infected. The hungry moaning that grew closer and closer. Now it became apparent why instead of the banks of the road becoming a fortress they were actually a trap. And the family was in it.
Tim squirmed forward enough to peek around the shot out tire on his side. His heart sank. How could those so far unseen attackers have done it? For coming at the McGee's was a lurching, staggering column of infected that numbered well over a hundred, perhaps over a hundred and fifty. Too many for them. But he wasn't going to just sit here and have everything taken away from him and Delilah. Yelling at everyone to get several feet back behind the trailer he ignored the incoming fire and climbed back into the driver's seat. A hasty glance in the mirrors and a wave from Wanda assured him everyone had followed his direction.
He knew the van wouldn't run for long. He had already picked up the scent of coolant all over and knew the radiator and perhaps the block were punctured. All he needed was a few seconds. He turned the key, praying for one more miracle. The engine coughed and fired. He backed up just enough to put the passenger side against that bank and twisted the wheel hard over. Lurching forward the van jammed the road from side to side. It wouldn't hold the infected for long but it should make them stack up and slow down. He cut the engine.
The sound of gunfire nearly over whelmed him. Not just the intermittent harassing fire of the trap setters but more. The older four children had leaped back into the van, lowered the windows and were firing through the gun ports that had been cut in the metal screens covering the openings. Infected were dropping but it wasn't going to be enough. They surged up to the van, beating on the side and tearing at screens. Those screens were designed to keep human prisoners in, not mindless infected out. Already Tim could see a screen giving way. It wouldn't be long before the press of the pack started forcing individual attackers around the corners of the van. Then they'd be trapped and sooner or later the infected would get in or his sharp-shooting kids would reduce their number to a point the living marauders would close in. Either way they were screwed.
Tim spared a second to look over to where his wife was. She met his eyes and nodded. They were agreed.
"Peter! Wanda!" he yelled. "Grab the girls and the four wheelers and get out of here. We'll cover you."
The protests were immediate and in some cases near hysterical. But Tim and Delilah overruled all objections. He helped Peter get the four wheelers off the back of the trailer and turned around. Delilah's lift was set so it could only lower partway so he scooped first her and then her wheelchair and set them together on the ground beside him.
The van was beginning to rock sideways from the number of infected pressing against us. Tim fired. Delilah fired twice. The infected were beginning to claw their way around the van, tearing chunks of the bank on both sides away. There was barely time for kisses and "I love you" all around and the grim faced teenagers drove off, all five crouching to avoid the increasing human gunfire as their assailants apparently could see at least a portion of their victims escaping.
Tim knelt beside his wife, his free arm around her. The always logical even at the worst of times part of his mind thought it was about time that being left-handed was a positive advantage. He could hold his wife with his right arm and she could do the same with her left while they both continued to buy time for their children to get away safely.
One shot, one kill. They plugged up the sides only to have the now fully dead bodies pushed aside by more hungry infected. They plugged the widening gaps again. Tim took advantage of that to kiss Delilah once more, deeply and passionately. They took a moment to rest their foreheads against each other.
"I love you Tim. Forever."
"I love you too Delilah. Forever."
As they wrenched their attention back to their targets Tim heard a buzzing sound that grew louder and louder. He looked over his shoulder. Were the kids disobeying them and coming back? Then with a roar a shadow swept over them. Both Tim and Delilah stared in astonishment as a Blackhawk helicopter swept over them. It banked and came back to hover to one side. Ropes dropped and several figures rappelled from the helo. At the same time something poked from the side facing the mob of infected. There was a deep snarl and what looked to be a golden laser beam touched the stacked up pile of attackers.
Tim knew it wasn't a laser. It was one of the variants of the M134 Minigun which fired the 7.62 mm cartridge at rates of up to 6000 rounds per minute. Only seconds were required to reduce the congestion in front of the van to a motionless pile. Those on the fringes were picked off by the advancing figures. The helo moved, crabbing sideways. Twice it hovered and the minigun roared again briefly.
This time the sound approaching really was the four wheelers. For an instant Tim worried the rescuers might consider them as part of their ambushers. That fear was relieved when one of the rescuers hopped down from the bank as the kids pulled up, leaping from their escape vehicles and running to Tim and Delilah.
"Good golly McParent, Wheels, are all of these now yours?"
Tim started to ask Tony how he could possibly know that the children belonged to him and Delilah when he realized that given that the five of them were crying and kissing and hugging the two adults plus calling them "Mom" and "Dad" that it was pretty obvious. So he settled for a simple "Yes" and returned to the near-impossible but deeply satisfying task of holding Delilah and all five at the same time.
The group embrace was broken when yet another familiar voice spoke.
"Good to see that you can still obey orders Tim."
"Thanks boss," Tim said, his words conveying a world of emotions he wasn't quite ready to let out yet. A thought struck him. "How in the world did you happen to be here?"
"We didn't know you were here," confessed Tony. "But we've been hunting this gang for weeks now. They were the last and the worst group of marauders near our safe zone. It's just luck that it happened to be when they were attacking you."
"If you want to call it luck," said Delilah softly. Near smothered by the delightful press of her adopted children she looked to the heavens and whispered her thanks. Regaining her equilibrium she gestured to Tony.
"Kids, this is your Uncle Tony. Tony this is Peter, Wanda, Dahlia, Angie and Becky."
"Hey there."
She turned towards Gibbs, who immediately spotted the glint of mischief in the former analyst's eyes. He opened his mouth to protest but he was too late as she went on.
"And this; is your Grandfather Gibbs."
No one besides Delilah or Abby could have got away with such an outrageous statement without receiving a blast from the former Gunnery Sergeant that could remove paint from a car body. But she could. And any objections he might have tried to raise were swept away when Becky scampered to him and wrapped her arms around him. Unable to resist he slipped an arm around the young girl's shoulders and hugged her back. So that was settled.
It took a few days but the McGee's were soon settled in the safe zone. The original house that the team had picked out and saved for them next door to Ellie and Jake was obviously not big enough but one two doors down was. Organized life was being reestablished in the steadily expanding safe zone and that included a recent restarting of schools. That done Tim and Delilah returned to work. Tim applied his talents to the struggle to reestablish communication systems and computer networks to connect them with other safe areas around the world. Delilah returned to her job of searching for threats because even in the midst of all the devastation and death some people, some groups, could not let go of their hatred and anger.
But the story actually ends about a year later when the McGee children, all formally and legally adopted now, gathered in a waiting room at the hospital anxiously awaiting their parents. A door swung open and Tim pushed Delilah into the room. Cradled in her arms was a blanket wrapped bundle. She smiled at her brood.
"It's a boy."
Peter loved all his sisters, his original one and all the others but the prospect of being the only boy among six children had worried him ever since the announcement that Delilah was pregnant. That in itself wasn't a surprise to the kids, their parents had a tendency to express themselves loudly and although their mom could not deliver naturally she could certainly get pregnant. Overjoyed to learn that he would actually have a brother and not be completely outnumbered he looked skyward.
"Thank you God!"
And for all their own reasons, varied but all including that for this moment at least they were safe, warm and a family filled with love all the rest agreed.
(The End)