Read Zombie Killers: AMBUSH: Irregular Scout Team One Book Six (Zombie Killer Blues 6) for Free Online Page A

Bullets started to whine and spark off the broken pavement in front of me, and my asshole tried to crawl up into my helmet.  Return gunfire barked loudly in my ear, quickly deafening me.
    Taking a second to assess the situation, I looked around. So far Lisa had been the only one hit; she lay either lifeless or stunned about twenty meters in front of me. The rest of the team were returning fire in several directions. Most of the rounds were going over our heads in a withering crossfire. Typical amateurs, shooting high.
    “GRENADES!” I yelled as loud as I could, and hurled a smoke canister, hard as I could, just as a round WHANGED off my helmet. The next instant, a searing, red hot poker of pain ripped through my shoulder, a ragged piece of hot steel from one our own grenades ripping through my skin. I looked over to see a chunk of meat gone from the muscle, and starred dumbfounded at it for a full second. Then several frag grenades went off simultaneously, and a pair of boots went running past me in the direction of the incoming fire.
    Standard Operational Procedure in case of an ambush is one of two things. Either you attempt to break contact and peel off, coming back the way you came, or you assault THROUGH in an attempt to break up the ambush momentum and maybe even defeat the attackers. I glanced up again to see Jimmy Bognaski dragging Lisa Cappochi back down the road by the dead man’s strap on her body armor. The boots I had seen running past me were Jacksons’, and he, followed by Simmons and Red, were charging into the teeth of the ambush. I tried to get up to follow them, but my artificial leg collapsed under me, spilling me back onto the road.
    A strong gust of wind of wind blew the smoke clear of the scene momentarily, and I started taking aimed, measured shots at the attackers, who I could only see by muzzle flashes. My three men were briefly silhouetted by the setting sun as they crashed into the tree line, firing like madmen. It did them no good.
    Jackson was cut down, even as he fired a long burst into a machine gun team that I just saw under a fallen log. The gunners were flung away from what looked like a 240B by the impact of his heavy AK-47 rounds, but an unseen rifle cracked and Jackson fell, shot through the head. I shifted aim and fired again, catching another man full in the chest as he rose to meet Simmons’ charge. A grenade went off and hurled Simmons to the ground like a rag doll.
    Red, with his disabled foot, had fallen behind in the charge and he came to a full stop when he saw both Jackson and Simmons go down. He reversed direction and ran straight back at me, stopping to try and help me up. Leg shattered and feeling light headed from the blood pouring from my shoulder and dripping onto the road, I wasn’t conscious that the firing had stopped. My only thought that kept going through my head was that I wasn’t going to get to run my hand through Brit’s flaming red hair ever again, or hear my kids’ laughter as they played by the river.
    “DROP IT!” screamed a voice in front of us, and I looked up to see half a dozen men, armed to the teeth, pointing their weapons at us. I was having a hard enough time holding my rifle as it was, and I let it drop in its sling. I heard Red’s rifle drop too, and then everything went kinda fuzzy and I fell to the ground. Fade to black.

Chapter 219
    When you wake up from a beating, you don’t really “wake up” like after a night’s sleep. You kind of drift in and out, gradually coming to the conclusion that actually being awake is going to be really painful, and you try to hide from it. I put it off as long as I could, but finally the aches and pains dragged me back to reality.
    I was in jail. Well, probably more like a holding cell at the local Podunk Sherriff’s office. I quickly discovered that I was handcuffed to the bed, and I hurt all over. My shoulder, which had a fresh white bandage on it, hurt like hell, and my ribs, holy crap. I