Stopping the Dead by Cy Gunther Page B

third sublevel and keyed open the door, motion activated lights flickering into life.  Row after row of equipment stretched out, each shelf labeled and with a full list posted.  Whistling the Marine Corps Hymn the brothers started moving through the rows, and within a short while they had everything from issue socks to proper cover.
    “Fuck, Bri,” Corey said, setting his gear on the floor of the center aisle, “feels like we’re back on the Island getting issued our shit for the first time.”
    “Almost,” Brian said, “almost.  DI Parker isn’t screaming that he’s going to make me eat your balls.”
    Corey laughed.  “Yeah, there is that.  Although I’m sure that Master Guns could do a pretty damned good impression.”
    “I think,” Brian said, “that Master Guns probably trained every DI there ever was.”
    “Probably was there at Tun’s Tavern,” Corey grinned.
    “Probably built the fucking thing.”
    The two brothers laughed and stripped down, replacing their worn and stinking civilian clothes with clean uniforms and equipment.  It was standard Army surplus, but Corey was sure they could figure out a way to make it Marine Corps qualified soon enough.  “Hey,” Corey said, lacing up his boots.
    “What?”
    “We should make sure that Ernst tells Lee about this.  Don’t know if he has any female gear, but she could at least get some clean clothes.”
    “Good call,” Brian said, tucking his cover into his back pocket.  He picked up his ruck, slipped it over his shoulders and checked the straps.  “Feels good.”
    Corey did the same.  “Damn right it does.”
    The brothers picked up their weapons and kicked their dirty clothes into a pile by the door.  “We better make sure we pick that up later,” Corey said.
    “Why?  Don’t you want Adam or Master Guns to beat the shit out of us?” Brian laughed.
    “No,” Corey grinned.  “Not particularly.”
    “Yeah,” Brian said, “good call.”
    Corey closed the door and locked it behind them as they left, boots ringing out on the stairs as they made their way back up to the main floor.
    Lee sat at the island, scrolling through the few camera feeds that were still active.  She glanced over at them, smiling tiredly.  “Ernst said to meet him over at the south wall.  He said that you’re going out for a recon?”
    Corey nodded.
    “Be safe,” she said, stretching.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”
    “We copy, Sergeant,” Brian said.
    She smiled again.  “Okay, get out.  Ernst is waiting.”
    The twins nodded and walked by, pausing at the front door to load up on clips and to grab sidearms.  Fully loaded, the brothers stepped out into the early morning light.   The zombies at the gate lifted their arms, pressing against the metal bars and letting out low, chilling moans.
    “Fuckers,” Brian spat.
    Corey looked at them, shaking his head.  “Is it me, or are there more of them?”
    Brian looked and sighed.  “No, you’re right.  There are more.”
    “Great.”
    The moans of the undead followed them as they turned the corner of the warehouse.  Ernst and Adam stood a short distance away, a ladder leaning up against the fence.  A trio of zombies lay on the asphalt beyond, heads split open, Adam holding a bloodied machete.   Ernst still smoked his pipe, looking down at the bodies.
    “Are you okay?” Brian asked.
    Ernst nodded.  “That one there,” he said, pointing to a middle-aged woman missing an arm.  “She was my first girlfriend.”  He shook his head.  “Just made me think about how many others we’ll recognize out there.”
    “Listen up,” Adam said, snapping Corey and Brian back to reality.  “You’ll mount the fence with the ladder, and you’ll radio back to us when you’re ready to come in.  You’ll come back here, and we’ll have the ladder ready to go.  Got it?”
    Brian nodded.
    “Why here?” Corey asked.
    “See that door?” Ernst asked, gesturing past the bodies.
    Corey looked