“They fought like savages. Most used sticks, stones, pipes, or anything else they could use as a weapon. Some seemed to retain enough knowledge and grabbed the weapons of the fallen guards. It was reported by one of the patrol boat captains that there was a small group of men in the background giving orders to the rest. It wasn’t long before they had broken into one of the armories.
“We were spread so thin setting up evacuation zones that once they got off the island they couldn’t be contained. We lost all the area south of the ballpark to the Mexican border. Some of the reports that we received from some of the survivors that managed to make their way north to our evacuation zone are hard to believe.
“Any non-infected person caught by the AB army is either immediately killed on the spot or taken to a makeshift area where they are forced to fight like gladiators against some of the more psychotic ABs to the death. We have even had a few reports of uninfected people being processed like cattle for meat. The reason that I tell you this is to let you know what we are up against. From what I hear we are facing an enemy that is much better organized and more intent on wiping us out. Probably due to the large numbers of military officers that were infected and escaped.”
Blake took a deep breath. What he just heard brought back memories of what he had already witnessed.
“We are losing men and women every day just trying to hold our ground. Most encounters, we come out on top, but for every two or three of them that we kill, they kill one or two of us. At this point, it has become a battle of attrition.”
The lieutenant’s neck veins were now sticking out, and his breath was extremely short. “The reason that I tell you this is that even one soldier makes a difference here. Maybe the difference of whether there will be any normal humans left in San Diego. So you better be damn sure that this private will make a difference for the final solution because he is making a difference here.”
Blake and Munns looked at each other and could sympathize with him. They had been through a lot of the same themselves.
Blake stood and walked to the head of the table and put his hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder. “We all understand how you feel; we’ve been there. I’m sure Command knows what they are asking, and being soldiers, we follow orders. Also, if this works, think of all the lives that will be saved. If it doesn’t, in the long run, then does it really matter?”
The lieutenant stared at Blake for an instant and nodded his head. He turned and grabbed a map.
Larson pointed to the center of the map. “Ensign James is in this area,” he said as he pointed to the area around the ballpark. “His platoon and a couple of dozen civilians are in charge of covering the intersection of Harbor Drive and Park Boulevard. They are at the point of the defensive perimeter on the south side. If it falls, we could lose the whole south section. The officer in charge is First Lieutenant Western.”
Larson scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Blake. “Give him this, and you will get your man. Communications are kind of spotty, but he has set up a command post in the executive suite at the ballpark. You should be able to find him there.”
Larson called for one of the SEALs standing guard outside of the door to come in. “Private Miller, I need to you drive these men to the ballpark to Lieutenant Western’s post and then return them back here once they have retrieved Ensign James.”
Miller saluted, and they left the room and made their way out to where several vehicles were parked.
The seven of them piled into the M-1126 Infantry Carrier Vehicle. Blake sat in the front with the private, and the other five found seats in the back. On the way down, the private turned to Blake. “Are you seeing much action up north?”
“Things are different up there. At first, the fighting was intense, just like here. But now the ABs in the San Clemente region seem to be gathering to a central location and are building something. We haven’t been able to determine what that is yet.”
The private chuckled, shaking his head. “You guys are lucky then. Every day down here, we are hit with attacks. They don’t like to fight at night, but during the day they always strike. We don’t get hit from the north or east as much anymore, but the southern perimeter is extremely hot. I hope you like to fight because the last report we received said the enemy was amassing a large number of troops for a massive strike today.”
Blake nodded, and the rest of the ride was passed in silence. It only took a few minutes before they approached the ballpark. As they drove closer, small arms fire could be heard ahead. As they stopped, the sound of a 50-caliber machine gun blasted from the other side of the ballpark. As the rear door to the carrier vehicle was lowered, bullets ricocheted off the side of the transport. All the men sprinted from the truck and took cover behind some trees outside the entrance.
Blake took a quick peek around the large tree and barely saw the silhouette of a man. He thought he was in a Navy uniform, and he was in the parking lot across the street trying to hide behind a dumpster. Blake almost ordered his men to lay down some cover fire so they could make their way into the building when a shot rang out from the top of the stadium. Blake could tell that it had come from a sniper’s rifle. Blake watched as the figure across the street by the dumpster hit the ground and blood trickled out from underneath it.
“All clear!” a voice called from above.
Blake looked up and gave a wave to the sniper on top of the building, and they sprinted for the door. Once inside, Blake was surprised to see several civilians heavily armed roaming the halls. As they walked around the corner, they were met by two drawn rifles pointed straight at their faces.
“Let me see your eyes!” the large man in a tight white T-shirt and baseball cap yelled. Blake held out his arms, and his men followed. Blake slowly placed his gun on the ground and stepped forward so the man could see his eyes. Once he examined Blake’s eyes, he lowered his weapon.
Blake quickly retrieved his rifle and stuck his face in front of the other man’s face. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Sorry… A couple days ago, one of those infected bastards came in here dressed in a military uniform. He was able to sneak in here and kill two close friends of ours before we took him out. We didn’t recognize you, so we decided it was better to be safe than sorry.”
Blake backed off a couple steps and softened his gaze. “Direct me to Lieutenant Western’s office.”
“I’m not sure if he is back from patrol, but I will take you to his office,” the shorter guard replied. They walked down a short hallway and up a small flight of stairs. As they entered the room at the top of the stairs, it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dim light.
A man spun in a chair on the far side of the room. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper that had the orders that said Connor James should be transferred to his command. Lieutenant Western reached out and hastily read the paper.
“Why in the hell do the Marines need to pull one of my best SEALs off the front lines where he is saving lives every day?”
“Why in the hell can’t this jackass just follow orders and turn him over to us?” Blake thought. But he thought about how he would feel if someone tried to pull one of his men off the front lines.
“Someone higher up believes this Ensign holds the solution to this whole mess. I don’t know much more than that. My orders are to retrieve him and return him safely to the main base at Camp Pendleton. And I believe he is supposed to be transferred to a hospital vessel floating off the coast.”
The Lieutenant stood and grabbed his rifle off the table. “James is on patrol. He was assigned to scout the area five blocks west of I-5 for any enemy activity. It is highly residential, and we have had a lot of activity in that area in the last few days.” The lieutenant turned and gave Blake and his group a sarcastic grin. “Are you ready for a little hike?”
“Why don’t you just radio them?” Blake said, his jaw claspe
d tight.
“About a week ago one of those bastards jumped one of our patrols. We killed most of them, but they did kill one of my men. By the time we were able to get to the body, he had been stripped clean, including his radio. We think that somehow one of them is smart enough to monitor our radio transmissions, so now we run silent communications.”
Blake admired what the SEALs and the civilians had done at keeping everything west of I-5 clear, but on the other side was another matter.
It was a short five-minute jog down Imperial Avenue to reach the overpass on I-5. Blake immediately scanned the area. Every couple of blocks there were light pillars of smoke rising in the air.
Lieutenant Western had his field glasses to his eyes scanning the streets in front of them. “Yeah, we found two kinds of ABs down here. The kind that comes at you at a full run, hell-bent on tearing your head off. The other kind seems to scurry like animals into the nearest building. The best way to handle them is to throw in a couple of grenades into the nearest window. Then you don’t have an AB problem anymore.”
They were only on the bridge for a few minutes before the lieutenant spotted his men about a half-mile east doing a sweep in a grid pattern, clearing the area house to house. That didn’t seem to worry the lieutenant, but then Blake noticed that his face suddenly went pale. There appeared to be twenty-five or thirty ABs armed with clubs, and a few appeared to have guns. They were taking up covered positions and getting ready to set an ambush for the soldiers, who were walking straight into it.
“You ready for a fight? Your man is about to be in hip-deep shit in a couple of minutes!” the lieutenant said.
“Lead the way.”
The five of them leaped off the overpass and headed down the road. Blake didn’t hear any sounds in the air except their boots hitting the pavement and their own heavy breathing. His heart was pounding as they were a block away from the ambush. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the crack of a single shot. Blake could tell from the sound that it had come from one of the SEAL’s M-16s. The next shots came from hunting rifles and small caliber handguns. His ears filled with the screams from wounded, charging feet and the roar of automatic weapons fire.
The patrol took cover in an abandoned police station. The officer in charge had been the first hit. Luckily for him, it was a clean shot through the thigh. Ensign James quickly applied a bandage and tourniquet to the wound. He then hastily gave him a small dose of morphine for the pain, but not enough that he couldn’t continue fighting. The other two took up cover positions by the front windows. They could tell that the rest of the ABs were coming closer to the building. The officer in charge ordered James to cover the back of the building. Bullets were still coming through the windows and striking the walls, causing sheetrock dust to fill the room.
Blake and Munns exchanged a glance after examining the police station. Blake looked up at the roof across the street then back at Munns, and he gave a nod.
Without speaking, Munns sprinted away. The lieutenant scrunched his eyes in confusion toward Blake just as bullets flew nearby. The four remaining soldiers took cover in the doorway of the market behind a large delivery truck parked in front.
Blake promptly made a visual assessment of the men. They were behind decent cover at the moment. “Can anyone make out where that shot came from?” he yelled.
“I think it came from behind the police station,” the young private who had accompanied the lieutenant squeaked.
Blake quickly poked his head out from around the truck and fired a few shots to assess the south side of the station. Just as he ducked his head back, the truck’s front headlight shattered from a bullet impact. The glass rained down on Blake’s helmet, and the sound of gunshots reached them a second later.
The soldiers in the police station could tell something had changed because they weren’t taking as much direct fire. The wounded leader hobbled to a barred window on the east side of the building and couldn’t quite make out the figures behind the truck across the street. He knew the unmistakable sound of an M-16 and smiled, knowing that he and his men had help out there.
The AB’s leaders could see that between the two groups, it was going to be nearly impossible to make an assault on the front door. All the men carrying guns made their way to the west side of the building and then to the south door.
The unarmed AB drones were instructed to attack the front door on their command while the armed ABs would attack from the back. They grunted sounds of understanding.
Munns set up a sniper position on the top of the roof and had a large kill-zone on the north and west sides of the building. The flag on top of the police station showed that there was almost no wind. On the south, he only had partial visibility. Not knowing how many enemies there were, he concentrated on the largest group he could locate. He peered through his scope, and the first AB he found that was closest to his men was a woman in her early sixties. Her face was contorted, and her eyes were glossy, which was an indication that she was an AB. She was wearing a flowered sundress, and for a moment Munns thought of his grandmother. He shook his head and looked at her again through his gun’s scope. He noticed that she carried large butcher knives in each hand.
As she moved closer to Blake and the other soldiers behind the truck, Munns placed the crosshairs on the scope in the middle of her chest. Holding his breath to steady his hands, he slowly pulled the trigger. Less than a second later, blood splattered all over the building behind her.
Suddenly, a flare on the south side of the building shot high into the air. Seven ABs ran toward the building Blake was hiding behind, and another eight rushed for the front door of the police station. Each of the groups was being covered by ABs with hunting rifles.
For a second, Blake was surprised with how well the attack had been coordinated. When the bullets smashed the window above his head and shattered the windshield, he was instantly refocused on the battle.
Munns figured that the worst threat came from the man with the rifle. He could see the muzzle flashes coming from across the street on the north side of the police station. The man was taking cover just around the corner, shooting and then ducking back again. Munns noticed the third time that the man popped his head out for about three second between shots, just long enough to pull the bolt back on the rifle, expel the spent shell, and chamber a new round. Munns smiled because he was ready for the fourth shot. As the man moved around the corner for the next shot, his head exploded due to Munns’s marksmanship.
With their cover fire eliminated, Blake and the rest of the men quickly worked dropping the remaining ABs rushing at them. Before they could leave the safety of their cover positions, Blake knew they needed to make sure they weren’t going to be attacked again.
The soldiers in the police station couldn’t see any signal given but guessed that something had happened because suddenly the ABs were coming at them from all directions. The two soldiers covering the front window took out the first wave quickly, but the soldier on the left exposed himself too much, and a rifle bullet tore through his right arm and almost blew it off completely. The soldier on the right couldn’t render aid because he would be exposed, and then the second wave of attack came from across the street; they barely heard the gunfire.
James was in charge of covering the south end of the building. Luckily, there was only one door, and it was locked. After James heard his fellow soldier get shot, he rushed to the front to help. Suddenly, he heard an explosion come from the back door, and the blast knocked him to the ground.
For a second, James could only see darkness and hear constant ringing in his ears. Their patrol leader, who had been wounded earlier, also heard the explosion and rolled into the hallway to lay down cover fire so James could get to safety. It only took a couple of seconds for the fog to clear from James’s head, and then he was scrambling for cover. Lieutenant Folly was struck in the foot by another bullet from outside the door, but he couldn’t see who shot it because of all the dust.
Ensign James yanked a grenade out of the pocket on his vest, pulled the pin, and hurled it out the front door. Within seconds, he heard the massive explosion followed by screams. James immediately ran down the hallway and pulled Lieutenant Folly back to safety. He knew he had probably saved his life while he was on the ground from the blast.
Blake could hear the chaos in the station so he yelled to Munns to take out the other enemy sniper. He decided that he and the other private, Jenkins, would make their way to the back of the station while Lieutenant Western took out the remaining ABs on the front and east side.
Blake and Jenkins ran along the building, taking cover behind the cars along the street. From behind the final car, Blake could see seven ABs. Two of them were lying on the ground, undoubtedly victims of the grenade explosion that he had heard seconds before. It looked like the remaining four men and one woman were preparing to make an assault through the building’s doors. They were all were armed with handguns and small caliber rifles.
Blake wanted to get across the street and take cover behind a large tree, which offered a better view of the back of the police station.
“Lay down some cover fire, on the count of three!” Blake yelled at Jenkins and motioned the direction he wanted to go. On three, the private popped up over the roof of the car and started shooting in the direction of the ABs. However, Blake’s plan was a second too late; the ABs had started their attack. As Blake reached the tree across the street, he could hear gunfire coming from the back of the building with horrific screams. Blake was able to drop the last of the ABs entering the building with a short burst from his M-16.
AB (The Blake Reynolds Chronicles Book 1) Page 12