Dust Chronicles Issue 4

A calm, detached corner of Sergeant Miller’s
mind wondered just how the hell he had gotten
himself into this particular mess, as he lay on the
cold cement platform of an abandoned Russian
metro train, in the middle of winter, struggling
to keep a dead Axis soldier’s brown, rotten teeth
from ripping out his throat!
Miller jerked his head from side to side, keeping
just ahead of the Zombie’s snapping jaws, using
his left hand to push the creature’s chin away
with all his strength, and floundering for the .45
at his belt with his right. The Zombie, too close
to use the massive steel maces it had for fists,
focused all its alchemically induced strength to
hold the struggling soldier still enough to get a
good taste!
“A little help here, someone!” Miller yelled,
gasping with effort, “That’s an order!”
As Kimble continued to fire blasts into the
darkness, and Pinksi finally got over his shock
enough to slip on the straps of his tanks a few
feet away, Manny Malone stepped up and swung
his shotgun with all his might into the back of
the Zombie’s head. The only effect it seemed to
have was to anger the creature, as it snapped its
head around to snarl a lipless blackened grin at
Malone, its red eyes narrowing dangerously.
That brief distraction was enough for Miller as
he yanked his .45 from his holster and pressed
it against the back of the Zombie’s turned head,
pulling the trigger for three fast shots. The inhumanly
strong skull of the Zombie resisted the
first bullet, the flattened slug of lead ricocheting
off into the darkness. The second and third
bullets did the trick, blasting into the creature’s
head and out through its snarling face spraying a
shocked Malone with foul, stinking, black icor!
Miller’s breath whooshed out of him as the Zombie’s
body collapsed on him. Malone shoved the
creature’s dead weight with all his strength, and
rolled the carcass off his struggling sergeant,
then helped him to his feet. Shaking himself off,
Miller saw Pinski struggling to strap the flamethrower’s
tanks on, Kimble was crouched behind
the toppled trashcan, firing into the dark tunnel
mouth where the sounds of more shuffling feet
could be heard, and Bauer was busy stuffing
bedrolls and gear into everyone’s packs.
“Hurry up, we need to move down the south
tunnel, before they regroup. Pinski! Got that
thing working?” Miller started barking orders
fast, snapping everyone’s minds back to the
routine of duty and away from the shock of the
sudden attack.
“Pilot light won’t start, Sarge! I think the feeder
pipe is pinched somewhere!” The young Private
answered as he inspected the business end of his
weapon.
A louder sinister hissing issued from the black
tunnel mouth. The men began to slowly back up
towards the south end of the platform, putting
distance between them and the enemy. Pinski
slung the hand unit for his weapon over his
shoulder, and snatched up the extra fuel tank
pack, and moved to the back of the group, behind
the guns of his squad mates.
As the squad reached the middle of the platform,
about halfway to the south tunnel, the noises
from the north end increased, and in twos and
threes, more of the Axis creatures stepped out
of the darkness and into the low flickering light
of the platform. They didn’t charge to the attack
right away, but came to a halt as a group a dozen
strong. Some crouched, some stood, but they all
stared unblinkingly with red glowing hunger at
the men.
the waking bear part 4
1