by Allen Gamboa
“Never mind. I hear we’ll be abandoning the base soon. “Washington lifted the monocular up to his eye.
“Yeah, that Gulfstream is the only plane left. Brass will probably have the rest of us drive out of this crap hole.”
“We have incoming Jefferson and it’s not the dead type either.”
“Shit.” Jefferson quickly grabbed up his rifle and glanced through the scope. Three black SUVs were speeding directly toward the front gate. “Call the CQ and have them get a roving patrol up here quick!”
“Roger that.” Washington said reaching for the radio. The Specialist quickly rattled off their situation as Jefferson fixed his cross hairs on the driver side window of the first SUV. All the windows were tinted so darkly he couldn't see the occupants inside. The Marine guessed where the driver would be and focused on that area as the vehicles grew closer. The three blacked out vehicles continued to speed toward the main gate.
“Who the fuck are they?” Washington asked as he set the radio mic down and pulled his AR-15 out of its rack.
Jefferson had a bad feeling about this and he knew he had to quickly stop the approaching convoy. “Call in an attack on the front gate!” Jefferson shifted his sight to the front end of the SUV and fired two rounds. The large caliber bullets struck the vehicle directly in the engine block causing the big GMC to swerve and slow to a stop. The other two SUVs slid to a halt, quickly backed up and sped away from the front gate. Jefferson swept his scope in the direction of the fleeing vehicles and fired off two more rounds destroying the rear window on one of them.
“This is the front gate, we are under attack by unknown forces!” Washington dropped the mic and aimed his AR-15 down at the stalled SUV. There was no movement or sound from inside. Smoke rolled out from underneath the hood as steam hissed like a snake from the leaking radiator. The driver’s door swung open and Washington could make out the barrel of a rifle. The soldier opened fire on the driver. Rounds pinged off the door and the driver dropped his weapon to the ground as he fell back into the vehicle fatally wounded. Washington continued to shoot out the rest of the SUVs windows. He fired until his magazine ran dry. Reloading, Washington glanced down at the Marine. “Holy crap!”
“Quiet.” Jefferson said sweeping the shot-up SUV with his scope. The soldier couldn’t see any movement from inside and didn’t like it at all, none of it was good. To the Marine, it appeared that the driver had been the only occupant of the big GMC. “Get back on the radio and call this in. Get EOD up here too. Something ain’t right.”
“Shit!” As Washington reached for the radio there was a sudden blinding flash and a muffled roar that was followed by a powerful shockwave of heat, flame and flying debris.
CHAPTER 14: TINY T-SHIRT
Camp FedEx
Hale yawned as he added another plate to the weight bar. The sergeant had tried to grab some quick shut eye but instead found himself tossing and turning. Tormented by the recurring nightmarish dreams of his wife and unborn baby, they kept him from getting any real sleep. The sergeant finally gave up on his attempts of any restful slumber and decided that a little time in the camp's weight pile would help relax him.
The workout area was housed in a makeshift construct of two Conex boxes. A couple of weight benches, several rows of dumbbells, a pull bar, recumbent bike and stair machine were all shoved inside. Most times Hale was the only one that used the jerry-rigged gym on a daily basis.
“Can I work in Sarge?” Banjo asked as he ducked his tall frame through the open doorway.
“Nah,” Hale slid down on the bench. “Let me rip out a set real quick.”
“No problem.” The six-seven contractor nodded as he watched the sergeant start to pump out a set of ten reps. Hale's massive chest flexed in the black Under Armor shirt that Banjo figured was two sizes too small. Once Hale was finished he sat up and wiped some sweat from his forehead with a towel he had around his neck. “That was rough,” Hale stood up. “I must be getting old.”
“How much is that? “Banjo said staring at the weight bar.
“Three fifty.” Hale wiped his face. “Not really feeling it today. You need a spot or anything?”
“I'm good Sarge.” Banjo turned to the bike a little intimidated by the Sergeant in the tiny t-shirt. “I think it's a cardio day anyway.”
“You sure?”
“I'm sure. Gotta work off that beer and burger.” The taller man nodded as he sat down on the bike. “You always lift so much Sarge?”
“Yeah,” Hale laid back down on the bench. “Good for the soul Banjo. Makes all the bad shit go away.” Hale pumped out another ten reps then sat up in the humid gym. He could feel his chest and shoulder muscles burning. “So..what agency you work for before this?” Hale asked a little out of breath.
“Homeland. Border patrol.” Banjo said as he easily rode the recumbent bike. “I did three years in the Army as a tanker. Met a lovely gal in Nogales that convinced me I needed to be civilian. Homeland was hiring. Good pay, good benefits, so I joined up.”
“How'd you end up here in this shit hole? “Hale again wiped his face with the towel.
“Strategic Securities had an ad looking for overseas contractors. Paid a third more than I was making. Thought more money would be good plus I needed a break from my now ex-wife.”
“Ex?”
“Yes, Ex. Marie became this crazed …. I guess psycho is the word I'm looking for. She changed overnight. I could never do anything right.” Banjo frowned. “Guess that's what I get for thinking with my dick.”
“Yeah, that head is never the brains of the outfit. You ever make it overseas with the company?”
“Nope. I worked some personal security jobs, bullshit celeb deals. Do you know a lot of famous folks are real douche bags?”
“Nah. Really?” Hale said deadpan.
“Yeah, I was finally getting a posting in Thailand when all this shit happened.” Banjo stopped peddling.
“Any kids?” Hale asked.
“No, thank God…” Banjo stopped mid-sentence remembering that Hale had killed his own wife and unborn child when they'd become infected . “Sorry Sarge.”
“Don't sweat it youngster. You know before this colossal ass fuck I had plans on being a history teacher and raising a family. Doing what you’re supposed to do. Fifteen years in the Air Force and I always thought there would be time for a life afterwards.” Hale laid back down and tried to push out another set of reps. All the growing darkness the big man shoved farther inside, Hale imagined a huge vault with every bad thing he'd seen or done locked away in its impenetrable walls. The sergeant knew someday that vault would break open from the weight and all the darkness come spilling out. Until then he would keep storing things inside it. “It's a good that you only had an ex. The more people you get attached to the more you have to lose.”
“I feel sorry for that poor shirt Sergeant Hale.” Doc chuckled as he stepped inside the makeshift gym and gave Banjo a quick nod. The medic was dressed in a blue shirt that had a unicorn and a rainbow on it along with the words ‘My Killing Shirt’. “Looks like you got two ferrets humping a cat under there!”
Hale finished his last rep and dropped the bar back into the rack with a grunt. The big sergeant sat up and grabbed a towel and began wiping his face. “You been rubbing one off to Animal Planet again?” Hale tossed the sweat filled towel at him. The medic dodged the wet cloth as it flew past him and made a splat on the floor.
“Only cause there's nothing else on.” Doc smiled. “Hey, I didn’t come over here just for sexy talk.” The tattooed medic dropped a heavy plastic bag down at the sergeant’s feet. “Get rid of those for me will you?”
“What is it, yer sister's sex tape?” Hale asked as he leaned down and scooped up the weighty bag. Looking inside, the sergeant chuckled then dropped it back down on the floor.
“Your cigarettes? Really?”
“After today's little ‘cakewalk’ I'm giving them up. All that running about nearly killed me. I'm done.”
“Okay.” Hale laid back down on the bench. Doc turned to leave, took a few steps then spun around quickly reaching for the bag.
“How about just one for the road?”
“No!” Hale kicked the bag underneath the workout bench, where it was out of Doc's reach. “It'll always be one for the road. Consider yourself a nonsmoker from now on.”
“Damn Sarge.” Banjo shook his head. “Just one more.”
“Go whine to the ‘I give a fuck fairy’, now get the heck outta here Doc, unless you're going to work out!”
“Shit.” The medic grumbled as he stalked out of the building. “I should have given them to Morgan, he would've at least been nice about it!”
CHAPTER 15: EDIBLE CHOW
War Room, Camp FedEx
“You all look as thrilled as I am to be here.” Major Morgan smirked as he stood in front of the group of ten contractors that were seated at the two long tables that ringed the war room. The assembled group were all outfitted in the Strategic Securities standard uniform, olive drab jumpsuits and grey Under Armor t-shirts. The officer set his coffee mug down and crossed his arms. “The colonel has a job for you and I’m the bearer of bad news.”
“You used to be my favorite.” Sergeant Cross said as she sat between Hale and Duley.
“Hey,” Vannelli raised his hand in the air, Doc knocked it down. “I thought I had armory duty for another week?”
“What are you complaining about Vannelli? This will get you off your knees for a bit.” Morgan gave the sergeant a quick wink then resumed his briefing. ‘’The company picked up a contract to transport a load of medical supplies from one of Nitrex pharmaceuticals manufacturing plants.”
“So where are we transporting them too?” Hale asked as he rolled a water bottle around in his hands.
“Zone three.”
“Uh, Major what about the Armory?” Vannelli asked.
“I’m sure sergeant Baer can find an able-bodied replacement.”
“Don’t worry Vannelli,” Cross looked over her shoulder. ‘I’ll make sure you don’t get any owies.”
“It’s not owies I’m worried about.” Vannelli looked down at the desk top.
“Lieutenant.” Morgan glanced over at Uribe, who was sitting next to Speedy. “You should just be there overnight.”
“We flying?” Uribe asked.
“No, take a hummer and one of the SUVs. Load ‘em up for bear, it’s a rough road to the Nitrex plant.” Morgan glanced around the room. “Uribe, you take the hummer with Doc, Fin and Banjo. Hale, the SUV will be you and the rest of the team.”
“Roger that.”
“Hale, you’ve traveled the route to the Nitrex plant before?” The Major asked.
“Some of it, not that far though. It’s a bad area. That damn earthquake ripped up a lot of the roads.” The big sergeant nodded. “Last time I went on a run near that grid, the roads were iffy and it was thick with deaders. Had a few run ins with gang bangers too.” Hale smiled and popped the top of his water bottle. “It should be fun. It's going to be dark soon. We have any night vision gear?”
“No, Redwoods team up north has all the night vision equipment with them. I think we may have a pair of binoculars left.”
“How about grenades?”
“No, Boss man says we are out.”
“No expense spared.” Hale said shaking his head in disgust.
“Hey, at least you’ll get unlimited hot showers and edible chow.” Morgan told them.
“Well, at least that’s what the plant manager promised to the Colonel.”
“Can’t beat edible chow.” Duley nodded. “Unlimited hot showers too.” Vannelli smiled.
“Yeah,” Cross agreed. “extra-long hot showers? Might get a chance to wash my hair. I’m in.”
“It’s the only time a man can get some privacy around here.” Duley lewdly grinned.
“Too much information Duley, TMI.” Cross chuckled as she shook the contractor by the shoulder.
“Duley, you drove the Stryker for us when we got back, so can you drive a big rig?”
“With my eyes closed Major.” Duley smiled proudly.
“Good. Nitrex will have a fully loaded tractor trailer waiting for you. Like I said you’ll spend the night then head back in the morning. Duley you’ll be driving the big rig back.”
“Aw fuck.” Vannelli chuckled. “Remember what happened to the Stryker?”
“I do miss that vehicle.” Cross said, fixing Duley with an accusing stare.
Finn leaned in toward Doc and whispered. “You guys had a Stryker?”
“Had.” The medic said waving him off and throwing Duley a dirty look. “We ‘HAD’ a Stryker.”
“Come on!” Duley whined. “Wasn’t my fault, I…”
“Listen up!” Morgan cut him off. The Major glanced around the tables at the assembled contractors. “You know the rules of engagement. Watch each other's asses. I’d like all ten of you back here in one piece and alive. Now get your asses moving and stay safe.” The Major grabbed up his coffee mug. “Dismissed!”
“Speedy,” Uribe said to the younger soldier as he stood up. “Grab the hummer with the thirty cal and bring it around to the armory.”
“Roger that L-tee.”
“Cross.”
“Yes?”
“Get the big Tahoe and drive it over to supply.”
“How about the Yukon?” Hale asked as he stepped between Cross and Uribe. “It’s got some light armor and run flats.”
“Okay.” Uribe rolled his eyes. “Grab the Yukon.”
“Roger that.” Cross gave Hale a quick wink then followed Speedy out of the room.
“Didn’t mean to step on your toes Boss. It’s just that I’ve been out there with my ass hanging in the wind and any advantage we can muster will make sure we win.”
“No, no, sergeant. You’re right.” Uribe said with a tinge of venom. “Good call. You’re the one that’s been on the most runs and experience. I should defer to you.”
“Lieutenant.”
“No, it’s fine sergeant.” Uribe pursed his lips together, nodded and headed for the door.
“I’ll see you out there.”
“You okay?” Morgan asked as he approached Hale. The War room was quickly emptying as the rest of the contractors dispersed.
“Yeah.” Hale frowned and crossed his thick arms. “I think I just stepped on the L-tee’s little ego.”
“Well, he needs to grow a thick skin if that’s gonna hurt his little feelers. Listen to those who know.”
“You would think that.” The sergeant nodded. “But that isn't always the case.”
“Kubicek?”
“Fuck, I almost forgot that assholes name.” Hale chuckled mirthlessly. “I guess he was the only one that made it out from Alpha team.”
“Yep.” Lieutenant Kubicek had been on Morgan and Hale’s team's mission to capture the Mexican drug lord Bob the Butcher Camacho. “Who knew we would be the ultimate reason that inept fuck is still alive.”
“Yeah, Captain Galvan and Top tried their best to keep that asshole off the mission.” Hale’s voice became serious. “You just never know.”
“Agreed. I wonder where that fucker is now?”
“Probably holed up in a bunker somewhere hiding behind his rank or maybe he’s Deader chow.” Hale frowned.
“One can only hope.” Morgan took a sip of the stale coffee and winced. He offered the cup to Hale who just shook his head and put a hand up to stop him. “This taste like fucked ass. Try it.”
“No thanks, I like my fucked ass with sugar.” Hale grimaced.
Morgan took another drink of the nasty coffee then set the coffee mug down on the table.
“Look, if you want me to replace Uribe…”
“No, dudes got to learn sometime. He’ll either sink or swim. The last supply run he was okay but nothing too stressful happened.”
“You rescued that family.”
“Yeah, I think Uribe didn’t w
ant to look like an asshole on that one.”
“Makes sense.” Morgan jabbed him in the arm. “Wish I was going out there with you guys, shit gets boring inside. Be safe Rollie.”
“Always. Try not to get any paper cuts while we're gone.” Hale grinned as he headed for the door. Morgan just shook his head and flipped Hale the bird.
CHAPTER 16: FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH
Baker Airstrip
A white twin engine Gulfstream G200 sat by itself on the air strip surrounded by ten Army Rangers. Two olive drab Humvees were parked to the right of the small jet as the soldiers quickly began loading several metal briefcases on board the private aircraft. The Ranger Captain impatiently scanned the surrounding airfield for any signs of trouble. Satisfied they were clear for the moment he turned his attention back to the small airplane. The jet’s pilot quickly descended its air stairs and ran over to the officer.
“Captain,” the pilot said adjusting the tie on his civilian uniform. “we have a problem.”
“Now what?” The Ranger said trying to control his anger. This whole mission to get the zombie vaccine to a secure manufacturing facility had been one big cluster fuck.
“We need to fuel up. The planes on less than half a tank.” The flustered pilot said as he ran a hand through his disheveled mop of hair. The Gulfstream had been rerouted from a private evac in Denver to this shitty airfield. The pilot knew for sure that his benefactor would be pissed at the government's commandeering of the man’s private jet, besides, the pilot was still hungover from last night's bender. The aircraft driver smiled weakly at the imposing soldier that stood in front of him. Well, at least he was still high on coke. “I was in Denver when I got the orders.”
“Understood.” Captain Testa nodded curtly at the pilot. He reached inside the passenger side of the Humvee and grabbed the radio mic. “CQ, Red leader.”
“CQ.” A voice crackled over the radio’s speaker.
“We need to fuel the bird. Can you give us a hand with that?”
“Roger that. Fuel truck will be there shortly Red Leader.”