Free Dead Island: Operation Zulu by Allen Gamboa

Looks like we may be going on a walkabout.”
    “Crap,” Cord groaned. “It’s too damn hot, Alby!”
    “Don’t be a pussy, Cord.” Newman said. “Just don’t be a pussy.”
    ***
    "Looks like we are walkin', Major." Zoe West gave Hale a mischievous wink. "I can't get the Hummer any farther. The Pit Bull sure as heck won't make it up."
    "Damn!" Hale said curtly and pushed open the passenger door. "Grab all your gear!" he said to the others and climbed out, only to be met by Lieutenant Wickham.
    "On foot?" the junior officer asked.
    "Uh huh." The major nodded. "They didn't have the decency to mark this climb on the fucking map. Get the troops geared up. We're already behind the fucking eight ball!"
    "Yes sir." Wickham returned to the Pit Bull. Newman already had the rest of the team disembarking from the rear of the vehicle.
    "Grab plenty of water!" Hale shouted back to them as he wiped his sweaty brow and adjusted the black ball cap with the Strategic Securities logo on it. "I don't want anyone dropping out on us before we get there."
    "If we get there," Diamond said, sliding up next to Hale. He had a radio strapped to his back along with his pack and a mini-14. "That's one steep-ass trail."
    "You can stay behind if you want, Sergeant Diamond," Hale patted him on the shoulder. "Though I'll be firing your ass as soon as we get back."
    "That's okay, Major," Diamond smiled. Sweat rolled down his cheek. "A little hike is good for the soul."
    "I like your attitude, Sergeant." By then, the rest of the team had assembled around Hale. "Listen up, people. I know it's hotter than fuck out here, but the sooner we get up this damn hill, the sooner we're done. Amante, you take point. The presidents, you bring up the rear. Let's move out!"
     

 
    CHAPTER 28: TWO IN THE HAND, ONE IN THE AMBUSH
     
     
    "Listen," Brooks said quietly as she and Wu lay prone and covered with brush. The captain made a hand signal towards the direction she'd heard the noise. Wu nodded slowly and raised his sniper rifle. The sergeant glassed the surrounding area and saw nothing. Brooks motioned for him to wait. No sound. No movement. After a few minutes, both soldiers relaxed.
    "Nothing?" Wu whispered.
    "I heard something," Brooks said, barely audible to the sergeant. There was the snap of a branch. They both jumped a fraction of an inch. Wu raised his rifle again; Brooks followed with hers. More branches snapped, followed by the smell of death and the sound of shuffling feet.
    "Oh," Wu covered his nose with his t-shirt and whispered. "Deaders."
    "Shit," the captain said under her breath. "Just what we need." She set her mini-14 down on the ground besides her and pulled out a small, tactical machete. "Nice and quiet, Wu."
    "Gotcha," the sergeant whispered. Wu remembered being a young boy and hiding up in his family's attic while deaders tore apart his neighborhood. He could recall his mother telling him to be quiet as their friends were ripped apart below them. The screams and pleas for help were horrible, but the moans of the undead were far worse. Three days of non-stop horror passed, and all through it, he was quiet. Even when his older brother ventured downstairs to see if it was safe and was eaten by the deaders, Wu stayed quiet.
    Three deaders stumbled towards where the two were hidden. Neither knew for sure if it was a sense of smell or sound that drew them. No one had figured out how they tracked living beings. Brooks signaled to Wu to move forward but then quickly motioned him to halt. The sergeant immediately lay flat again. He glanced over at the captain, who was lying a foot away. Coolly, she switched back to her mini-14. Wu did the same. Clearly something else was up.
    Two of the three deaders appeared to be well-fed males. The third was a teenager. Neither soldier could make heads or tails of its sex. Their clothes were hanging off them and covered in dried blood. The deaders moved slowly and aimlessly towards their position. Wu thought