by Allen Gamboa
Testa dropped the mic back down onto the hummer’s passenger seat then turned back to the civilian pilot. The soldier could tell the man was barely hanging on, ‘was this the only swinging dick they could find?’ he thought to himself. This was a damn airbase, it should be loaded with pilots. “Fuel truck is on its way.”
“Great.” The pilot nodded. “I was just in Denver, I was supposed to pick up my boss and his party when Uncle Sam called. Can’t disobey a martial order. Knew a guy that did that at the beginning of this fucking thing and they shot his ass on the spot.”
“It’s a new world…” The captain glanced down at the tilted name plate on the pilots wrinkled flight jacket. “Mister Kantner.”
“Sure the fuck is.” Kantner said reaching into his shirt pocket for a small bottle of Ibuprofen. The smaller man had a brown mop of hair and a moustache that was made for 70’s porno’s. The pilot noticed the Ranger captain had a southern drawl. “You from Georgia?” He asked shoving a handful of pills into his mouth.
“Texas.” The soldier frowned and looked over the shorter man’s shoulders. The officer could see one of the large hangar doors open and a what appeared to be a fuel truck emerge from it. This set Testa at ease a little bit. Maybe this would be it.
“Texas, hell you’re a long way from home.” The pilot nervously smiled as he chewed the pills and stroked his drooping moustache.
“Aren’t we all?” Testa glanced over to see Specialist Carr on the other Humvees .30 caliber machine gun. The captain could see Sergeant Raines was already up on his vehicles gun. ‘Good man’ he thought.
“Naw, I’m from Long Beach. I’m surprised you’re still working for the Feds now that Texas succeeded from the U.S.” Texas had indeed succeeded from the rest of the United States at the beginning of the outbreak. The Lone Star state’s population figured they could better survive without the help of the Federal government. So far they’d been right.
“I can’t walk out on my soldiers.” Testa said quietly. “Maybe when all this crap is over and done, but not now.”
Before Kantner could start anymore of his inane and nervous chatter, a female soldier quickly approached the taller officer. Testa nodded to the compact Asian sergeant. Kantner noticed these high-speed types seemed to nod a lot to each other. If Kantner did that, people would think he was falling asleep, which, in all fairness he probably would be.
“It’s all loaded Captain.” Sergeant Cho said as she unslung her M4.
“Good. Fuel truck is on its way.” He nodded to the fast approaching vehicle. “We’ll gas up the plane then I want you, Carson, Franco and Cohen aboard. You four will escort the package all the way home.”
“Sir?” Cho frowned. “I’d rather stay here with you and the others.”
“I appreciate your loyalty Cho but I’d rather have you guarding the package.” Testa smiled at the sergeant. Kantner was thrown off by the soldier’s expression, he’d thought the Captain’s face had been made of stone. The pilot didn’t know if Testa’s smile was scary or just an odd attempt at an expression the Captain facial muscles weren’t used to. Whatever it was, the pilot found it off putting. “You know how important it is.”
“Yes sir.” Cho nodded.
“Good.” He handed Cho two grenades from his belt. “In case it all goes to shit.” Suddenly the radio crackled to life and the three could hear Washington’s call for help. Without a thought Testa turned to Cho and directed her and the other Rangers into defensive positions. The captain grabbed Kantner by the arm and ordered him back into the jet’s cockpit. As the pilot stumbled up the air stairs he heard and felt the explosion from the main gate.
“Wonderful!” Kantner looked over his shoulder and through bleary eyes he could see a small ball of fire rise in the distance.
“Get aboard the plane!” Testa shouted as he took cover behind one of the hummers. “Get the engines started.”
“What about the fuel?” The pilot asked still standing on the air stairs.
“Just get it started!” The captain growled as he raised his rifle to a firing position. The Ranger could hear gunfire from the main gate as base security responded to the attack.
“What the fuck, sir?” Sergeant Stover, who knelt at the rear of Testa’s Humvee, asked spitting out some chew.
“They can’t get this package!” Testa shouted to his men. “Hooah!”
“Hooah!” The others proudly yelled back. Two black SUV’s emerged from the smoky and fiery remains of the front gate. Immediately Testa gave the order to fire on the fast-moving vehicles. As the soldier’s rounds struck the SUVs, the captain realized they were armored. To his right, he saw the fuel truck gaining ground, he grabbed the radio and spoke into the mic. “CQ, red leader! We need you to turn around the fuel truck!” No answer. “CQ.” An RPG from inside one of the SUVs struck the fuel tanker. A tremendous heated shockwave and fireball rolled across the airstrip and the soldiers.
Testa found himself thrown hard to the ground, the heat burning his skin. Gasping for air, ears ringing he fumbled for his rifle and got to his knees. In the din of battle, he could hear the sound of gunfire and men screaming. The smell of burning flesh and fuel filled his nostrils as he tried to focus on what was going on around him. Sergeant Cho grabbed him roughly by the shoulder.
“Captain!”
“Cho!” Testa said quickly pulling himself together. “Get on board the plane and get it the hell outta here!”
Cho started to argue with the officer but only nodded instead. “Hooah!”
“Hooah!” Testa shouted as he turned to face to SUVs. Both of the big vehicles were now stopped and parked sideways providing cover for the attackers. Testa fired several rounds in the gunmen’s direction. He ducked back down behind the Humvee as enemy shells struck the vehicle. Testa looked over to where the second humvee was parked and saw it engulfed in flame. Specialist Carr’s burning body hung lifelessly from the roof. Two soldiers lay face up, unmoving in big pools of their own blood and a third was face down, his body in flames. The captain leaned out from behind his cover and fired a three-round burst from his rifle. One of the attackers was struck in the head and collapsed behind one of the SUVs. A wall of gunfire erupted from behind the attackers cover and Testa found himself hugging the tarmac behind the humvee as rounds impacted all around him. Sergeant Stover knelt next to him returning fire as the jet’s engines whined to life. “There’s only four of us left sir!”
“Then let’s make this count sergeant!” Testa pulled a grenade from his vest and tossed it towards the parked SUVs. As the explosive detonated the captain climbed up onto the hummers .30 cal. The fuel trucks initial explosive concussion had killed sergeant Raines and his body had fallen back into the Humvee. The captain cursed at the loss of his friend and angrily began firing on the attackers. The grenade had blown out the already weakened windows of the SUVs and dazed a few of the gunmen, the explosive hadn't done much damage but it gave the captain time to get to the big gun.
“Captain, the planes taking off!” Stover shouted above the gunfire. The small jet was starting to taxi down the runway.
“That’s what we want!” Testa shouted as rounds impacted on the hummers roof. Hopefully Sergeant Cho and the drunken pilot would get the vaccine where it needed to go.
“The jet’s leaving!” Gimli said from behind the SUV that was beginning to look like a block of black Swiss cheese.
“Puta Madre!” Diego swore. Rounds from the gun on the Americans humvee smashed into the SUV. The Hispanic contractor dropped to his knees as glass and sheet metal showered down on him. “Martone, stop that damn plane!”
“Easy guy. Don’t get all bitchy!” The Armenian pulled open the middle door of the SUV and quickly reached inside. Rounds were now starting to penetrate the vehicle as the armor plating was starting to wear down. Martone dropped down to his butt as he began loading a round into the grenade launcher. “I’ll stop those pricks!”
“What?” Diego’s eyes grew wide as he noticed the mer
cenary was wielding a grenade launcher. “No, you puta! We can’t risk destroying the cargo. Shoot the engines or pilots. Just don’t blow it up!”
“Don’t be a pussy! I thought you Cartel bastards liked to blow shit up. We need to take out that gun on the truck first, no?” As if in response to the Armenians question, one of the mercenaries’ head suddenly exploded. The Ranger Captain continued to empty rounds from the .30 caliber machine gun on the mercenary’s position. The headless bad guy slumped to the ground. “Poor Aswan or Anton, whatever the fuck his name was, would probably agree.”
“Shit, take it out!” Diego spat as he fired his machine pistol in the Humvees direction.
“Quickly, quickly!”
“Hold your horses guy.” Martone said raising the grenade launcher up into a firing position. The mercs around him were trying to avoid being hit by the Rangers weapons. The Armenian just shrugged, aimed and pulled the launchers trigger. The grenade detonated almost in the Ranger leaders chest. Testa didn’t feel a thing as the explosion ripped apart the Humvee killing Sergeant Stover and injuring the two remaining Rangers.
“See guy.” Martone set the launcher down next to him. “Army man stew!” Diego just shook his head at the annoying mercenary and returned his attention to the fast taxiing jet. Since there was no return fire from the Americans he started to unload his weapon on the fast-moving airplane. It was too late. The Gulfstream shot up into the late afternoon sky away from the chaos on the airfield.
“Fuck!” Diego cursed again and began repeatedly kicking the headless body of the Nigerian mercenary.
“Guy,” Martone grabbed the leader's arm. “Look.” Behind them the crowd of undead that had followed the mercenaries inside were now getting closer.
“Puta!” Diego kicked the headless man again causing his body fluids to splatter all over the other mercenaries.
“Aye mate!” Digger shouted in disgust as he raised a gloved hand at the Hispanic. “That’s enough! Man’s dead!”
“Get inside!” Diego shouted to the remaining mercenaries as he pulled open the bullet riddled door of the SUV. “We have to find that plane!”
“Diego!” Gimli, one of the other mercenaries, grabbed the door frame. “before we go anywhere we need to talk money!”
“What? “The mercenary leader was incredulous as he stared at the wiry gun thug that held the car door open.
“We need to renegotiate before we go off chasing those pricks through meat sack land.”
“Vamanos!” Diego cursed as he shooed the mercenary away from the door and stepped back outside of the SUV. Martone and Digger stood dumbfounded at Gimli's gall at having called their leader out for a change of payday.
“We need to renegotiate Diego. I didn't sign up for all this extra shit!” The mercenary grumbled. “I thought this was going to be easy.”
“You thought wrong puta.” Diego said curtly as he stealthily drew his sidearm and shot the other man in the forehead. Gimli groaned and fell sideways smashing his already damaged head on the ground. Diego looked over to where Martone and Digger stood. Both men instantly threw their hands up in the air.
“Anyone of you other pendejo’s want to talk about money?” Diego growled as he waved his handgun at the other two.
“I'm good guy! Martone sputtered.
“Me too boss!” Digger bobbed his head up and down in agreement.
“First smart thing you two have done all day. Leave the broke down SUV!” Diego angrily kicked Gimli's corpse. “Let's move!”
“What's with kicking all the dead guys?” Martone quietly asked Digger as he quickly rifled through Gimli's corpse for his money and anything else of worth. The Australian mercenary just shrugged happily that he hadn't been the target of the man’s anger.
CHAPTER 17: HEY GENERAL!
Gulfstream, Airborne
Inside the Gulfstream; Sergeant Cho could feel the plane vibrate and shake as it lifted off the airstrip. The sergeant glanced out one of the jets small windows in time to see the explosion from the captain’s Humvee. Cho slowly shook her head and slumped down in the seat. The soldiers on the tarmac below had been all that remained of her Ranger unit, now it was just Specialist Franco. The other two Rangers, Cohen and Rains had been killed when the tanker truck exploded.
“Fuck!” Franco cursed as he continued to look out the window at the disappearing tarmac.
“Bastards!”
“Franco?” Cho asked the other soldier.
“I’m good.” Franco nodded as he wiped some moisture from his eyes. “I’m good sergeant. We should have stayed behind.”
“No, we have a mission to complete.” She glanced over at the three metal briefcases that were stacked on the floor. “Captain knew that, so did the others.”
“I know, just shit, I’m not use to running.” Franco rubbed his face with his hand. “Feel like we ran out on them, know what I mean Sarge?”
“I get that Franco, but we have a job to finish.” Cho set her rifle down on the floor.
“They’d do the same for us. This was a tactical move, we don’t retreat.”
“Hey General!” Kantner shouted from inside the open cabin. Cho looked through the open cockpit door and could see the back of the pilot's head. The Ranger stood up and walked over to where Kantner sat flying the plane.
“It’s sergeant.”
“Sergeant,” Kantner turned his head to look up at the soldier. “General, Admiral, it doesn’t matter, you’re the head honcho now. Do you know where we’re headed?”
“Yes, do you?” Cho frowned.
“Yep, Area 51.”
“Groom Lake.”
“Whatever.” Kantner shrugged. “You carrying alien DNA in those boxes?” Cho just stared impatiently at the pilot. “Well, whatever. I have the coordinates. We are going to need to get fuel somewhere soon though or it’s not gonna be pretty.”
“Figures. You know any place we can gas up?”
“Maybe.” Kantner smirked. “If you have a credit card from Uncle Sam I’m thinking we can find us a gas station.”
“I can do better than that.” Cho slid into the co-pilot’s seat. “Show me how to work your radio. I need to check in, I’m sure I can get us some help.”
CHAPTER 18: ICE ICE BABY
On the road
“I forgot how bad things had gotten out here.” Cross said as she steered the big Yukon towards the damaged highway. Army engineers had come through the area and shoved most of the abandoned cars to the side of the road. In doing this the engineers had inadvertently constructed one long almost continuous wall of glass, sheet metal and rubber. Packs of wild dogs dodged in and out of the debris as countless scavenger birds circled around in the sky. Paper, clothes and other garbage lay strewn across the highway. Sad remnants of the past mass exodus of the living. On top of all of that, Vanilla Ice’s lyrics ran on an endless spool through her head, the tragic result of an eighties greatest hits CD being stuck in the SUVs stereo. To the red headed sergeant’s dismay, she hadn’t been fast enough to beat the mind-numbing chorus to the volume controller. Somebody back at Camp FedEx was gonna pay dearly for that.
“You got spoiled Sergeant Cross. Too many chopper rides.” Hale chuckled from his position in the passenger's seat. “Everything looks worse on the ground.”
“Hale, it still looks the same just smells worse.” Cross frowned. The junior sergeant did feel more secure airborne, too many bad things could happen to you on the ground. In the air the grabby hands of the undead couldn't get to you. “Smells worse than that crap Duley’s eating.”
“Hey!” Duley, who was sitting in the middle seat reading a comic book and eating something out of a jar, shook his head. “Kimchee is like eating a piece of spicy heaven. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it Sarge.”
“No thank you.” Cross said watching out the front windshield as the Lieutenant’s Humvee led the way. “Too bad the company couldn't get us one of those fancy Stryker vehicles.”
“That would be nice.” H
ale popped open a water bottle and took a swig. “Too expensive and they eat up way too much fuel. Company wouldn't spring for that. “Besides,” Hale turned to look back at Duley. “some of us aren't responsible enough to have one.”
“Sarge,” Duley opened his hands in resignation. “It wasn’t my fault. I had to take a piss…” Hale put up a gloved hand to stop him from continuing, Duley sighed defeated and sat back heavily in his seat.
“I bet Doc is pitching a bitch riding up front with Uribe and the new guys.” The big sergeant said as he watched a couple of emaciated looking undead pull themselves out of the crushed remains of a Cadillac and try to stumble after them. Hale just shook his head and glanced down at the water bottle in his lap.
At the beginning of the outbreak Hale had been able to track down the whereabouts of the FEMA camp his pregnant wife had been relocated to. The big sergeant and his team had traveled from San Diego to Oregon to find and rescue her but it had been too late. Several infected refugees had turned and the virus quickly spread throughout the camp. When Hale and the other soldiers finally arrived, the camp had been abandoned leaving nothing but the mass of undead refugees inside its walled perimeter. Hale had flipped out and waded into the tide of living dead or ‘Deaders’ as they were now commonly called. Armed with only two tactical tomahawks he hacked and chopped his way through the throng of flesh eaters until he found his wife, now one of the ravenous dead. With a single blow, he gave the thing that had once been his vivacious better half, mercy. Hale would have surely died in that mosh pit of hands and teeth if it hadn't been for the rest of his team. Morgan, Vannelli, Duley, Doc Kegy, Redwood and Cross blasted their way through the wall of undead and drug the grief-stricken sergeant to safety. Hale could still picture the look on his wife’s face as he drove the tomahawk into her skull. For a minute, he thought he saw faint glint of recognition in her eyes then they quickly returned to the dead, uncomprehending grey that seemed to be common with the infected. At that moment, Hale was okay with joining the ranks of the undead. The pain and sorrow was overwhelming. The sergeant couldn’t stay afloat amidst the wave of suffering. Before he drowned in the ocean of flesh eaters, Morgan’s gloved hands pulled him out of the pile of squirming undead and brought him back to the living. The big sergeant had lost everything, his wife, his unborn child and his will to live. The team charging in to save him, without worrying about their own lives helped to slowly give him back the will to go on.