Chaos anw-1

by John O'Brien

  As the figure draws near, Lynn observes the wariness and tension from the fatigue-clad soldier. “Identify yourself,” Lynn calls out once the soldier closes in to where they can hear without her broadcasting their location. The tension visibly leaves the soldier as she replies back, “Corporal Horace.”

  “You’re the first ones I’ve seen today, Sergeant,” Horace replies as she steps up to the group.

  She then relates her story of the night prior detailing how she headed out to the latrine in the middle of the night and was chased repeatedly until taking refuge in one of the buildings for the night. She was over by zone 2 and listened all night to the shrieks, howls, and apparent running gunfights with the sounds of the gunfire dying around 0200. Watching from the windows of her building, she saw several other soldiers attacked and taken down,

  Heading over to the camp armory, the group encounters more bodies of soldiers and civilian contractors laying in the sand in various positions but looking like the first body they encountered to some degree or another; bones stripped mostly to the skin.

  “What in the world could or would do this?” Taylor asks quietly as they pass two more bodies lying in the warming desert sun, not really expecting an answer.

  As with the first soldier she encountered, Lynn removes a dog tag from each one adding them to the growing number in her pocket.

  “I don’t know but we’re going to have to assume the camp has been overrun at this point,” Lynn replies noting the very distinct lack of people or the noises normally associated with a large group of people assembled in one place.

  Stepping around the corner of a building and onto the roadway leading to the armory, Lynn sees a larger group standing in the roadway in front of the armory a short ways ahead. She signals the others with her to hold up, not knowing if the group ahead is friendly or not, and draws to a stop with the rest of the group behind her.

  “I think we should head between the buildings here,” she says pointing back in the direction they came and a pathway leading between them, “until we can get closer and find out their disposition.”

  Retracing their steps, still unseen by the larger group, they turn left and walk down the pathway, keeping the buildings between them and the other group. As they draw closer, the sound of voices begins to penetrate the mostly silent area. They squat behind the building directly across from where the others have gathered.

  “What do you think, Sergeant Connell?” Drescoll asks quietly as they all gather in a circle.

  “I don’t recall hearing any of those affected ones speaking and they’re not attacking each other, so I think we’re going to have to assume they’re okay,” she says squatting in the shadow of the building. “I’ll go out and make contact. The rest of you stay here. Sergeant Drescoll, keep an eye on what happens. If it goes bad, get out of here. If we become separated, the rally point will be the TOC. Everyone clear?”

  “You got it,” Drescoll responds. The rest of the small group gathered around her answer with a quiet “Yes, Sergeant.”

  Lynn stands up and brushes some not-so-imaginary sand from her fatigues, more from an anticipatory action and readying herself to step into an unknown, and steps around the corner heading towards the front of the building, watching the group ahead for any reaction. There are about twenty soldiers gathered in front of the armory in a semi-circular fashion centering their attention on another solider. For the most part, their backs are to her and her approach.

  Lynn walks out from the shadow of the building and into the bright morning sun beating down upon this barren part of the world. Stopping momentarily to let her eyes adjust, she sees one of the soldiers closer to the central figure as he turns in her direction and notices her. He immediately turns back toward the central figure and starts speaking, pointing in her direction, the exact words not quite reaching her ears.

  All eyes turn on her as one, the open end of the semi-circle reorienting so that it is now facing her. “Approach and identify yourself,” the central figure states.

  “Sergeant Connell,” Lynn responds feeling relieved as some of the tension inside her releases.

  She walks toward the group. As she approaches, she notices that the group is a mix of enlisted personnel and NCO’s. She recognizes the short, slightly overweight central figure as Major Bannerman. Walking across the roadway, she steps up to him and salutes.

  “I have another small group with me, sir,” she says as Major Bannerman returns her salute and she motions them out.

  As her small group walks out from their location and into the roadway, Major Bannerman says, “We were just going to draw weapons and gear and head over to the TOC.”

  “I just came from there, sir. We haven’t been able to make contact with anyone else on base nor with anyone on the outside. We haven’t encountered anyone else this morning with the exception of Corporal Horace here. Lots of bodies though.”

  “We haven’t either ,Sergeant. We’ll form a temporary unit comprising of those with us until we can get in contact and help arrives. Sergeant Connell, you’re now my First Sergeant. Let’s arm up and head over to the TOC,” Bannerman says.

  “Yes, sir,” Lynn responds. “Sergeant Drescoll, draw your weapon, then take seven with you who can drive and bring eight Humvees back here. The rest of you will draw your weapons and start bringing ammo out, stacking it in front.”

  The handles on the double steel doors leading into the large tan armory building are warm to the touch as Lynn pulls the left door open. Cool air from the dimmed interior rushes out and brushes against her. The concrete floor of the small entrance room is lit only by the light streaming in from the now open door. Stepping into the room, Lynn looks to the right wall and, finding the light switch, flicks the bank of lights to the on position. The fluorescent lights hanging from the false ceiling of the convex building come to life, flickering momentarily before flooding the room. To the immediate left and right of the entrance, offices show through glass panels set into the walls with their doors open. A short distance on the other side of the room, another small room sits behind a wire enclosure with another set of double steel doors leading into the back of the building next to it.

  “Private, check those doors,” Lynn says pointing at the other steel doors as others come into the room. “I’ll see if I can find the checkout sheet.”

  Stepping to a door leading into the caged area, Lynn tests the door, surprisingly finding it unlocked and opens it. “The doors are locked, Sergeant Connell,” the Private says, checking the doors leading into the armory proper as Lynn steps into the caged room.

  Rummaging through the small area, she finds several sets of keys. Pocketing those, she then finds a clipboard and several sheets of paper. Standing close to the wire and addressing the group within the entrance room, she says, “Okay, listen up everyone. When you draw your weapon and gear, I want your name, unit, serial number, and the serial number of your weapon on the first sheet. When we start bringing the ammo out, I want quantity and type on the second sheet. We’ll enter in groups of five. Is that clear?”

  A chorus of “Yes, First Sergeant” resounds in the room. With clipboard in hand, Lynn moves towards the steel doors leading into the armory proper. Testing various keys, she eventually finds the right one and unlocks the doors. Swinging them outward and bracing them open, she looks inside. The large room appears to run the remaining length of the building but is shrouded in darkness, lit only to a depth of about the first fifteen feet from the doors. A bank of light switches sits against the wall to her left.

  “You five in with me,” she says to the first five behind her and reaches over to the switches, flicking them upward.

  The sound of relays closing echo in the room from front to back. The lights come on in a sequential fashion, ‘chunk, chunk, chunk, chunk,’ spreading light into the room in stages as banks of large, hanging lights come on inside the warehouse.

  A loud shriek sounds to her immediate right. Whipping her head in that direction,
she is in time to witness something large slam into one of the soldiers who accompanied her into the room. The soldier is knocked from his feet with a cry of surprise, lands on the concrete floor and slides to a stop just a few feet in front of her. Another figure in fatigues is on top already clawing and biting into him. A wet ripping sound echoes across the vast interior, followed by the soldier’s screams. Small droplets of blood splatter against the gray concrete floor beside the pile of two writhing bodies. The four soldiers stand just inside the armory doors, paralyzed as the one that was swept from their midst continues to be ravaged on the concrete floor at their feet.

  However, without hesitation, Lynn drops the clipboard and launches herself at the soldier on top. Landing on its back, she wraps her right arm around its throat and continues her roll to the right, finishing on her back with the other on top in a choke hold. The thing on top of her snarls and writhes in an attempt to break her hold. Lynn wraps her legs around the others legs in order to subdue the creature thrashing on top of her.

  “Calm down soldier!” She yells into its ear and tightens her grip around its throat.

  Time both slows down and speeds up as the thing on top of her continues to thrash. The central thought of subduing the soldier on top of her permeates her mind, but another small thought enters and she is thankful for the daily workouts in the gym as the thing on top latches onto her right arm around its throat and pulls attempting to break her grip. Damn he’s strong, she thinks as she feels her choke hold weaken. She brings her left hand up to her right arm to add strength to her grip and feels the hold tighten up once again. The being on top of her whips its head wildly about but the adrenaline coursing through her adds strength and the thrashing becomes less and less until it stops completely, becoming a dead weight on her chest.

  Lynn releases her grip and rolls the creature off and to the left. She rolls to her knees and reaches over to the limp form now lying face down on the floor beside her, checking quickly for a pulse. Finding one, she then scans around the armory interior before crawling over to the injured soldier who is now sitting up with his left hand to his cheek. Streams of blood run between his fingers and down onto his fatigue shirt.

  “You four, make sure he stays subdued. Let me know the instant he starts coming around,” she says pointing to the unconscious form on the ground and startling the four out of their trance.

  “Here, let me see that,” she says to the bleeding soldier.

  As he withdraws his hand, she sees a chunk of flesh has been taken out of his left cheek and is bleeding freely as facial wounds will. Lynn removes her fatigue shirt and t-shirt underneath pressing the t-shirt against his wound.

  “Hold that tight,” she says and replaces her fatigue top.

  The Corporal turns his head, looking into her eyes, his eyes still wide with fear and adrenaline. “Thanks, Sergeant,” he says pressing his hand to the t-shirt, holding it in place.

  “No worries, Corporal,” she replies and looks to the door, noticing heads poking into the room.

  “Go find me some speed tape,” she says to a group gathered at the entrance peeking in, and the heads disappear.

  Lynn then sits with a heavy sigh and looks over the lit interior more closely. Racks of weapons line the middle interior and walls. There are also crates stacked at intervals throughout the room. There is no sign of movement and she glances back at the three enlisted men and one woman around the unconscious form on the floor. One of the men is holding the form’s arms at its back while another sits on its legs. Standing, Lynn takes a couple of steps over to assess.

  “Roll him onto his back,” she says wanting to get a look at him.

  Releasing his hold on the arms, one of the soldiers rolls it face up. There is almost a unified gasp as the attacker is shown in the bright lights. Its skin is a pale ashen gray, mottled by darker gray patches both large and small with a patch of bright red blood splashed on the lips and skin around the mouth. Thinking she has killed the soldier, Lynn reaches out once again to check for a pulse. The skin feels clammy and cool to the touch, almost like it should be wet. Her fingers come up dry though as she verifies a rapid pulse from its neck.

  “What happened to him?” One of the Privates asks gazing down with wide eyes and raised eyebrows at the still form.

  “I don’t know,” she says thinking it must have something to do with the vaccinations or the flu itself. Perhaps that’s why they stopped the vaccinations, she thinks to herself.

  She hears steps behind her and turns her head over her shoulder to see another soldier approach with a roll of duct tape in his hand. “Found some, First Sergeant,” he says and hands it to her.

  Rolling the thing on its back once more, they bind its hands and ankles. “Get him outside,” she says as they finish up.

  “Clear a path!” She yells to the group at the entrance and the entrance room beyond.

  Lynn follows behind as they carry the body, two grabbing under the arms and another at the feet. She can hear several muted gasps as others see the body for the first time. They carry it outside.

  “Set him there,” she says pointing to a spot of deeper sand just away from the building. “And find something to shade him with.”

  Emerging from the shadow of the building, with the entire group in tow, they set the still unconscious body on the sand. “What happened in there, Sergeant Connell?” Major Bannerman asks once they are outside into the bright sun and fierce heat.

  The question falls on seemingly deaf ears as Lynn and the rest are staring at the figure and the immediate transformation it seems to be going through. The exposed skin of the face begins to redden, becoming like an instant sunburn. The thing’s eyes pop open widely and it begins to howl and shriek, thrashing wildly, its back arching up as though in extreme pain. The skin’s redness darkens even further, to the point where it seems like it should be smoking. The ear-piercing shrieks continue almost non-stop, all of this happening within seconds.

  “Get it inside!” Lynn yells above the shrieks and takes a step towards it to help.

  Before her second step, the wild arching subsides and it falls limply to the ground as the shrieking abruptly ends. She rapidly goes to her knees beside the limp form checking for a pulse but finds none. The skin is extremely warm and dry to her touch.

  “He’s dead,” she says, looking back over her shoulder at the group and Major Bannerman.

  Standing, Lynn then answers Bannerman’s question and relates the events inside, giving more of an overview than a detailed description. “Sir, may I speak?” She asks after finishing her description. Major Bannerman then leads her a little ways away from the group.

  “Sir, I think we may be dealing with some kind of reaction to either the vaccination or the flu itself. It appears that whatever it is makes them hostile attacking others. And whatever transformation it is apparently makes them quite sensitive to light. Or outside light at least,” she says pulling several facts together. Those being that they seem to be active at night and that they found this one in a darkened room along with its reaction to the outside light. “I think we should deal with them as hostiles until we know better.”

  “Good idea, Sergeant,” Bannerman says, “We’ll draw weapons and hole up in the TOC until help arrives.”

  “Sir, I’m not sure help is coming if this is associated with the vaccinations. The whole world was inoculated or at least exposed to the virus. And, I tried calling almost everyone back at Lewis along with several other installations. No one answered.”

  “What’s your suggestion then, Sergeant Connell? How are we going to get out of here?”

  “I would suggest we arm up, gather water and rations and hole up in the tower at the airfield. It will have telephones along with radios to contact any aircraft still flying. Plus, it’s easily defendable. We have plenty of food and water here if things are truly a worst case scenario,” Lynn replies to his questions. “If we can hold out here for perhaps five days and no help arrives, then we can load
up vehicles with rations, fuel, and ammo and evaluate the best route and destination.”

  “Very good, Sergeant. That sounds good to me,” Bannerman says and turns back towards the group.

  The very first thoughts of the surrealness of the situation begin to form in Lynn’s mind. This may be similar to the very situations Jack, her, and a few others discussed as wild, ‘what if’ scenarios. What would they do if a zombie invasion happened? Is this really something global? She thinks. I hope Jack is okay. Will he actually come pick me up as they discussed? Too weird to think about but the tower is a logical place to go in any case.

  Back at the group, who is mostly staring at the limp body lying in the sand, Major Bannerman addresses the group and details the plan they came up with.

  “What about leaving now, sir?” A voice sounds from somewhere in the group.

  “It’s a deathtrap here, sir,” another sounds out.

  “I think the best idea is to stay here until we get more info,” Bannerman says and turns to Lynn. “Sergeant Connell, see to the weapon dispersal.”

  “Yes, sir. You four, with me,” Lynn says pointing out four enlisted, “We’re going to clear the armory and then same plan as before.”

  After making sure the injured soldier is treated, Lynn and the four soldiers enter back into the armory. She gathers them at the doors leading into the actual armory. “Wedge formation. We’ll draw weapons at the first rack and then proceed to clear the room. Heads on a swivel. No firing if your line of sight isn’t clear; use the butt of your weapon,” Lynn says and details positions for the others; two in front with two on the sides putting herself in the middle to help out on either side. “Everything clear?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” they answer and proceed inside.

  The weapons inside stand in mute silence. The detail detects no movement as they move warily to the first rack of M-16’s leaning in their racks; tense and with heads moving constantly. They draw weapons and, although expecting something, no sounds or attacks greet them on their journey through the room. All is silent. They clear the room and proceed back to the door.