Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Read Online Free PDF

much
more could be done. Fortunately, we possessed both the equipment and manpower
necessary, even if volunteers for the worst tasks were hard to come by.
    “This is
a long, long, long, long way to travel,” commented Mary.
    “I know.
But, there are zombies all over southern Wyoming, and the raiders have scouts
crisscrossing the state. Since we don’t want to waste time fighting, or be
ambushed and killed, it’s best we swing into Montana before cutting west.”
    She
snorted. “I bet the raiders have people north of the park too. You know they’re
going to do that.”
    Mary was
likely correct. The airplanes we used to keep an eye on the roads had already spotted
several small groups in the general vicinity, but those nearest Yellowstone
tended to head straight for the forested areas at maximum speed. They wanted
whatever concealment they could get, which made sense, and as a result we had
no idea how many were present or where they might be hiding.
    “Since
we’re going to be met outside the park and guided in, I’m not overly worried
about an attack. Our group is going to be too big for any scouting party to
target, assuming they even see us.”
    “We
should have flown,” she countered. “It would have been way faster and easier.
Maybe we would have gotten lucky and been able to burn a few. That’s always
fun.”
    Fun?
Sometimes I worry about the girl.
    We had
finally developed a system allowing us to strike from above. Initially, the
Ranching Collective tried to take advantage of their monopoly on aircraft by
mounting guns on a large commercial chopper. The results were mixed. Yes, the
gunners could, and did, shoot a significant number of raiders. However, the
helicopter lacked armor and had difficulty maintaining its position while
firing. It was shot up the first time they used it and shot down the second.
Likewise, the first attempt to drop a bomb accomplished nothing but catch the
plane on fire. It was a miracle the pilot managed to land and get out in time.
    “I’m
sure they really found it frustrating,” said Mary, with a malicious giggle,
“having a little bitty Cessna take em out.”
    After
much trial and error, we managed to mount a small tank to the underside of
several planes. The pilot only had to line up in front of his target, reference
the height / speed chart, and push the button at the appropriate time. The
canister would then release and plummet to the ground, where it exploded on
contact. What we used was not napalm, nor was it a proper military weapon.
These were homemade, constructed by our resident demolition expert, Carlson, a
Vietnam vet who loved blowing things up. Our airborne attacks are one reason the
raiders shifted tactics. Gone are the days when they rode forth, hundreds
strong, as a single group.
    While we
still had two dozen such bombs in our inventory, there was a good chance they
would be relegated to the dust bin. You see, we were now in possession of three
military choppers. The Cobra is my personal favorite. It can fly three hundred
miles at a hundred fifty an hour and easily top ten thousand feet. That last
point is especially nice since we were already at a rather high elevation. The
pair we took are armed with twin multi-barrel miniguns. They also have rockets,
big ones that are nearly three inches in diameter. The folk over in Yellowstone
only have a single Cobra, but theirs is a modernized version with a 20mm
gatling cannon, rockets, and four TOW Missiles.
    There
are also some Pave Hawks. The variants we are using were originally designed
for combat search and rescue. They have a rescue hoist with a two hundred foot
cable capable of lifting six hundred pounds or Lizzy. All right, that was mean.
I admit it. However, the woman has not slimmed down. Even with all the hiking
and marching and strenuous manual labor, Lizzy still finds the time to stuff
her face with enough food to offset any burned calories. I haven’t asked, but
I’m beginning to think she wants to be