Read The Left Series (Book 3): Left On The Brink for Free Online

Marine Corps,” a deep , commanding voice boomed from behind the searchlight. “State your intentions and do not use your weapon again or we will be forced to fire on you.”
    “Milner?” Smith bleated, shielding his eyes from the glare. “Is that you? It’s me , Smith. We met a few days ago…you helped us get some diesel for our boat.”  
    “Smith? Why didn’t you say so?” The searchlight blinked out.
    All I could see were black dots and shapes swimming in front of my eyes.
    “I tried but you were too damn busy trying to blow me away ,” Smith replied.
    “What are you doing back this way again?”
    “We saw the flares, we thought somebody was in trouble and we came to help.”
    “Ah…okay. That’s some guy in the control tower. Did you send up that white flare? We saw it and came to investigate. We figured somebody was in trouble.”
    “Yeah, it was us shooting the flare and you got that right, we were in trouble.”
    “ Did you find your friend in New Orleans?”
    “Get us off this damn roof and I’ll tell you all about it.” Smith’s voice was nothing more than a weary groan.
    “Okay, we’re coming over,” Milner said.
    The vehicle engine roared into life once more and as my sight cleared, I saw Milner , tall and lean with a shaved head, directing the driver towards the UPS truck. Milner was leaning forward from the machine gun mount on top of the Humvee, talking to somebody below in the main body of the vehicle. I recognized the modified military vehicle as the one we had used to fill with diesel in Jerry cans when we were last on the Airbase. The front and sides had been fitted with extra armor plating and solid crash bars bolted to the main structure skirted the Humvee exterior. The windshield and side windows had been covered with thick wire mesh.
    Milner directed the driver close r to the UPS truck. The zombies caught between the vehicles were quickly dispatched by Smith and Milner with rapid fire from their handguns.
    “Okay, it’s safe to climb onboard,” Milner instructed.
    “You go first, Batfish,” Smith said, gesturing with the flashlight for her to clamber onto the top of the Humvee.
    She gave a brief nod. Milner held out his arms for her to grab onto. She hopped onto the military vehicle roof next to the machine gun turret and Milner steadied her, holding onto her arms. Milner shuffled slightly to his left and Batfish disappeared into the main body of the vehicle. Smith hopped across next, shaking hands with Milner when he clambered across the turret. I followed, giving the marine a welcoming slap on the shoulder as I brushed by.
    The Humvee interior was dim and cramped. Crates of tinned food covered the floor space in the rear compartment, lit by a faint yellow light overhead. Two other military personnel sat in the front bench seat next to the driver. The driver was a big black guy who gave me a welcoming nod when I climbed down from the turret. The passengers consisted of a wiry guy with close cropped, spiky blonde hair, sitting between the driver and a pretty looking girl with short black hair and dark Hispanic facial features. The wiry guy and the girl held assault rifles close to their chests, the barrels pointing towards the roof. All three of them were dressed in khaki-green military combat fatigues with various insignia etched onto the upper sleeves next to their biceps.
    “Okay, Johnson, let’s get this thing rolling,” Milner called from the gun turret.
    The driver, who I presumed was called Johnson, fired up the Humvee engine and U-turned in the road. We drove under the overhead canopy, setting off on the road into the Airbase and Johnson bumped any zombie who stood in our path with the front end crash bars.
    Milner stayed in the gun turret and opened up on large crowds of zombies that bunched together in the road. We clambered over the crates of tinned food stacked at waist height and sat on the bench seats, running vertically at the edges of the rear