SEAL Team 13 st1-1

by Evan Currie

  “Get Shill up on the roof,” he ordered. “Find a ladder or boost him up on your shoulders if you have to. We need a lookout.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mike Shill was one of the SWAT snipers they’d brought along, and while he wasn’t as well equipped as even the guardsmen, Jones was comfortable entrusting the watch to him. He trusted the man to keep his finger off the trigger, something he wasn’t as confident about with the military people.

  “And someone find the damn lights,” he growled.

  * * *

  “That’s strange.” Jenner scowled, lifting his NODs up and peering into the night. He rapped them sharply with his hand before pulling them down over his head again.

  “What is, Corporal?”

  “I’m not sure, Sarge. I thought I saw movement, but it must have been a glitch, ’cause there’s nothing out there.”

  Kell considered that for a moment, then waved to a man who was still inside the C-130. “Thermals.”

  “Right. Here you go, Sarge,” the man said, stepping down and handing the specialized night-vision devices to him.

  Kell flicked the thermal lenses on, listening to the soft whine as the capacitors charged, and then lifted them to his eyes to scan the area. He saw nothing but blues and blacks, no sign of any heat source in the local area other than his own men.

  “Nothing there, Corporal. You still seeing movement?”

  “I don’t know, Sarge, but I’m seeing something,” Jenner said, lifting his NODs off his eyes again so that he could squint into the night. “Damn things must be glitching.”

  “Let me see.”

  Kell relieved Jenner of the NODs, putting them to his own eyes. At first he didn’t see anything abnormal, but soon he too was frowning. He took them off his eyes to sweep the scene with his own eyeballs.

  “I see what you mean. Strangest damn glitch I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, shaking his head in confusion. “Looks like ghosts moving around, just out of range.”

  “Yeah, I know, right?”

  “I’m not so sure it’s a glitch, Sarge.”

  The two men turned to look at Corporal Merrin, who was sweeping the scene through his own set of NODs.

  “Same thing, Corporal?”

  Merrin nodded, handing the device over to the sergeant. “Looks like.”

  Kell scowled, not liking it when his gear started to act up in mysterious ways. He checked the scene through Merrin’s goggles and spat in annoyance.

  “Definitely not a glitch,” he said. “At least not with the internals. If it were later on in the year, I’d figure the cold was screwing with them, but it’s not that bad out here yet.”

  The other two nodded their understanding. Alaska was often used as a hostile environment test area for military equipment, specifically because the temperatures could become about as extreme as anywhere else on the planet, while the weather and terrain outdid almost anywhere else a military unit could possibly be called to serve. However, as the sergeant had said, it wasn’t all that cold at the moment, and the NODs were well within their rated operating environment.

  “All right.” Kell jerked his thumb out in the direction of the anomaly. “Go check it out, you two. Stay in contact. Just make sure that there’s nothing out there, and then get your asses back to the plane.”

  “You got it, Sarge.”

  The two readied their kits, shouldered their M4s, and headed out from the C-130 as Sergeant Kell went back up the ramp to assign a couple more men to the guard detail.

  * * *

  Marcus Jones surveyed the terminal building, taking in the signs of struggle and violence that filled the place. Trash bins were overturned, their contents scattered across the floor, and there was blood on the seats and floor and smears on the walls.

  No bodies, though. What the hell happened?

  “Building secured, sir,” Trooper Kanady said, walking over to join him. “We found broken glass in the offices, a computer tossed across the room, but there’s not a soul to be found.”

  Jones nodded, looking down at the tablet computer he was holding. He checked a map of the town, scowling as he realized that it didn’t list wherever the hell the town’s hospital or clinic was. There was a dental clinic to the northwest, and three schools to the northeast, plus a Search and Rescue headquarters just east of them. He sighed, flipped open his satellite phone, and dialed his secretary.

  “Miriam? Yeah, no, I’m here. Look, could you find out where the hospital is up here? It’s not showing up on my map. Yeah, send it to my account. Thanks.”

  He flipped down the antenna on the phone and nodded to Kanady. “Okay, gather together everyone who’s not on watch. We’re going to have to split into three groups and move out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His tablet chirped, and he glanced down to check the update. Jones rolled his eyes as he noted where the hospital was.

  Sure, list the electricity co-op, but don’t bother listing the hospital. Who puts these things together?

  He knew that he’d have to send men to the schools, all three or four of the larger ones at least. The Search and Rescue office was another given, as was the sheriff’s office, but he would take the team to the hospital personally. If he was going to find people anywhere, that was the place he’d put his money on.

  And he wanted to find some people, pronto. The sheer lack of any visible civilians was, quite frankly, creeping him out.

  Captain Jones sighed, shutting his tablet down and securing it under his coat as he walked over to where his men were gathered.

  * * *

  Corporals Merrin and Jenner paced each other as they walked north, off the airfield and into the tundra that separated them from Barrow. They were angling more to the east than the state troopers had gone, heading for the aircraft park that seemed to be the focal point of the anomaly showing up on their NODs.

  The slush and ice shed off their boots as they walked, but both men could feel the cold trying to seep in. They wanted nothing more than to get the mission done and head back to ALCOM, where they could at least be assured of a warm bed waiting for them after their work was done.

  “You seeing anything?” Merrin asked, his Colt M4 poised at his shoulder as he looked through his NODs over the sights of the weapon.

  “Just the same weird shit, man.” Jenner scowled under his own night-vision device. “You see that?”

  “What?”

  “Over by that parked plane.” Jenner pointed.

  Merrin looked for a moment, then shook his head. “Don’t see anything. What was it?”

  “I don’t know. Shadows. Jesus, I’m jumping at shadows.” Jenner spat, disgusted with himself.

  “This mission is creepy — you said it earlier, man. Don’t sweat it.”

  The two men made their way out of the field and onto the tarmac of the airplane park, heading toward a parked bush plane sitting next to a large hangar building. There weren’t many aircraft sitting around, but the few that were there certainly crossed the gamut of what one might expect to see. They spotted a Learjet some distance away, its nose poking out of an open hangar, something that some company CEO was going to tear his flight crew a new asshole over. Beyond that there were a couple Piper Cubs and older-model bush planes. There were more of them than someone from the southern states would expect, particularly considering the size of the airstrip.

  This was Alaska, however, and flying was sometimes the only possible method of travel.

  “Getting the glitch again, over by the Lear hangar,” Merrin said, sounding annoyed.

  Jenner didn’t blame him — whatever the hell was causing this was getting on his last nerve too. He sighed. “All right, let’s check it out. If the place is clean we’ll file a report on the damn things and let the brass hash it out with the supplier.”

  “Right.”

  They turned and walked toward the plane hangar, both of them feeling beyond fed up with the situation. Jenner flipped the NODs up on his head, pulled a croo
kneck flashlight from his web gear, and thumbed it on.

  He let his M4 hang from its straps and pulled the Beretta M9 from its holster instead as he ducked under the nose of the multimillion-dollar plane. Resting his gun hand on the wrist holding the flashlight, he began to sweep the hangar. The shadows were still playing with his head as he swept the area, making him think he saw movement, but this time he didn’t comment.

  “Not seeing anything from here,” he called out to Merrin. “I’m going in.”

  Merrin nodded behind him, his own carbine tucked into his shoulder. “I have you covered.”

  “Right.”

  Not that either of them expected this to come down to any actual shooting — there was something weird going on, sure, but they weren’t walking around Baghdad. Barrow, Alaska, was hardly going to be the site of a major firefight involving the US military anytime soon.

  That said, both of them were creeped out, and nothing said comfort like a full-automatic weapon.

  “Nothing in here,” Jenner said after sweeping the whole area. He shook his head as he turned and started back out. “I’m beginning to think that we’re dealing with some kind of weird environmental interference. Maybe there are some heating pipes under the runway here to prevent icing? Even if they’re turned off now, it could be messing with our gear a little. What do you think, man?”

  When no immediate response was forthcoming, Jenner scowled and ducked under the Lear’s wing again.

  “Yo!” he called. “Not funny, man! You okay?”

  He walked out of the hangar and stopped, his flashlight beam resting on the Colt M4 that was lying on the ground. He holstered his M9 pistol and swung his own M4 into his arms, spinning around as he looked for any sign of his comrade.

  “Merrin, you asshole, if you’re fucking with me, I swear to God I’m going to break your legs!” Jenner snarled, his eyes darting about, looking for something…anything at all.

  The only response was silence and the distant howl of the wind.

  Jenner backed away from the hangar, putting some asphalt between himself and any cover that could be used to sneak up on him before he pulled the radio from his belt.

  “Command, Jenner.”

  “Roger, Jenner. Go for command.”

  “I’m out by the hangar with the interference, northeast of the Herky Bird,” he said, referring to the C-130 they’d flown in on. “I lost Merrin.”

  “Say again, Jenner. Did you say you lost Corporal Merrin?”

  “Damn it, yes, I lost him!” he growled into the radio, trying not to panic as he spoke. “I was clearing the hangar while he covered me from the outside, and when I got back he was gone, but his M4 was laying on the tarmac! Get me a squad up here, damn it!”

  “All right, I’m sending a squad your way. If Merrin is screwing around, he’ll be cleaning latrines on a glacier when this is over.”

  “Assuming that I don’t shoot him first myself,” Jenner growled, tucking his radio away. He wasn’t entirely joking — Merrin had best be in dire straights, because if this was some pathetic prank he was going to wake up in a snow bank some morning, minus his skivvies.

  “Merrin!” Jenner hissed, walking slowly around the Learjet, which was the only thing for a few hundred feet big enough to hide behind.

  Or in.

  He leveled his weapon at the open door of the jet, scowling suspiciously at it. The stairs were extended, of course, so he started climbing the short distance to the plane’s cabin. At the top he once again let his rifle rest on the straps, pushing it around to his back as he drew the Berretta and ducked into the enclosed space.

  “US Army!” he called, scanning the interior with his eyes and pistol. “Show yourselves. Merrin, if you’re in here, come out before you really start to piss me off.”

  Nothing.

  He cleared the main cabin, scowling more with every passing moment, then checked the cockpit. It was empty, and nothing was out of order — the whole thing looked like it had come straight out of the factory.

  “This whole place is giving me the creeps,” he muttered, holstering his pistol again as he stepped out onto the stairs. He glanced back over his shoulder, shaking his head as he checked the cabin one last time.

  “That’s because we own this place now.”

  His heart damn near exploded in his chest as he spun around, coming face to face with something out of a zombie movie. The withered and rotting face couldn’t belong to anything living, but it smiled at him as he screamed and went for his rifle on reflex.

  Whatever it was, it didn’t make a move to stop him, but before he could bring his weapon up a leathery hand reached into his mouth and grabbed him by his face, yanking him forward.

  The last things Corporal Jenner heard or felt were the obnoxiously loud popping sounds from his neck as he was pulled up off the stairs of the Learjet and dragged into the rafters of the hangar.

  * * *

  For a long stretch of time the only sound left around the hangar was the low moan of the arctic wind, signaling a coming change in the weather. Then footsteps scuffed against the tarmac as five camouflaged, uniformed men came running up and spread out.

  “Look around. They can’t be far,” ordered the lead man, Sergeant Dale.

  The men slowed, moving into the hangar with their weapons shouldered and ready to fire. One dropped to his knee by the abandoned M4 on the tarmac, lifting it up to check the action and sniff the weapon.

  “Unfired.”

  “Great,” Dale said. “All right, let’s clear this building, then move on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The team moved inside, ducking under the wings of the Lear as they went, sweeping the hangar with their M4s.

  “Corporal Jenner!” Dale growled. “Where the hell are you?! Jenner!”

  When no response came, the men paused briefly, but their leader signaled them onward. They penetrated the hangar and slowly swept through the large building. It only took minutes to determine that their missing man—men, it looked like now — was still missing. They regrouped inside, taking a moment to discuss their options out of the wind.

  “All right, something clearly happened up here. Neither of those two is stupid enough to leave his weapons lying around on the tarmac like that,” Private First Class Rodriguez grated out.

  “No shit, Private,” Dale snapped. “The question is what the fuck happened. Anyone see anything?”

  “Didn’t see shit, Sarge.”

  “All right, Rodriguez, Smith, clear the jet. The rest of us will cover the hangar until you’re done, then we move on.”

  “Right.”

  The team moved back to the front of the jet, three of them in the front, the remaining two covering the rear. They knew their job and were determined to do it by the numbers, but plans were plans and reality had a way of making its own.

  Even with NODs, they didn’t see the attack coming. A shuffle of feet, almost hidden by the sound of their own movements, a hint of motion in the air — none of it was enough to alert them in time. Sergeant Dale heard a muffled impact, and then his face was spattered with something warm and wet. He spun toward the sound and motion, only to see a dark shadow blot out the green glow of his night vision. Before he had time to react, a heavy pressure sat on his chest like an elephant bearing down on him. He tried to breath, tried to speak into his radio as he slumped to his knees, but all that came out was a low rattle that even he could barely hear.

  In seconds the entire team was lying on the ground, surrounded by dark shambling figures where they had stood. They were all focused on the same thing, a figure standing apart from the group, watching as the blood of the fallen soldiers cooled on the ground.

  “Tell the others that it’s time.”

  * * *

  Captain Jones didn’t know what the hell had happened.

  They’d moved out of the airport and spread out into the town, where everything was quiet. The place was like some half-frozen ghost town, and it wasn’t the cold t
hat was sending shivers up everyone’s spines.

  They saw their first person about two streets northwest of the airport, and since there was no fighting or rioting to speak of in the area, everyone took it as a good sign. Then one person became two, four, eight, and so forth. Within minutes there were dozens of figures standing around them.

  Just standing there silently. Watching.

  They’d tried talking to them, of course, approaching cautiously and as nonthreateningly as possible. But the people didn’t react. It was like something out of a ghost movie, Jones supposed, though considering what happened next, a zombie flick might be a more appropriate comparison.

  They all started walking in response to some unheard signal, converging on the state troopers.

  The troopers shouted warnings, and someone even fired a shot into the air. Captain Jones would have had him on report for that, if it weren’t for the fact that he was pretty sure the offending trooper was dead.

  The blood. My God, I’ve never seen so much blood.

  The captain of the state police huddled down in a dark corner, his radio to his lips.

  “I don’t care!” he growled. “We need help up here! Send everyone!”

  He looked up as a figure appeared above him. The eyes seemed to glow as he dropped his radio and pointed his service piece.

  The forty-five roared eleven times as Jones screamed over the thunder, continuing to squeeze the trigger as his magazine emptied. The desperate click click click sound only stopped when Jones’s throat was torn out by his assailant’s teeth.

  “Colonel!”

  “What is it, Major?” Colonel Sam Pierce asked, glancing up as the other man rushed from the command center they’d established on the C-130 out to where he was standing and threw him a fast salute.

  Major Johnson cringed slightly. “I don’t know, and that’s the problem. We just lost contact with a squad we sent over to check on the missing corporals who went to check out some weird tech glitch north of us, and the radios went crazy. And now Captain Jones is screaming for backup.”

  “What?” Pierce stood ramrod straight. “What happened?”

  “That’s just it, no one seems to know.” Johnson shook his head. “Everything was quiet as a church two minutes ago, and suddenly all hell broke loose. We thought we heard shots, but no one answered our calls until Jones got on the horn. A few people got through after that, screaming something about cannibals and zombies, but we can’t even get a hold of them anymore.”