Confusion turned to fear as the kid took five steps back and grabbed his radio. “Juan, are you there?” He waited a minute, then repeated his call, “Juan, come in!”
“Quick, where should Juan be right now?” Caleb asked, yet the question came out as an order.
“He’s most likely doing a check on the ambulances outside of the emergency entrance.” Caleb pulled the baton from his hand and gave it a quick swing in the air.
“Which way is the emergency room exit?” Caleb was already running towards the stairwell exit. The guard looked like he was ready to pull the ancient wheel gun on his belt.
“At the bottom of the stairs, turn right then right again and go straight. I’ll call 911!” The nurse shouted. I’m not covering for the doc when he gets back from where ever the hell he slipped off to, the shithead!
Caleb slipped on the second step as the disposable slippers made it awkward. He tore them off and took the steps three at a time. The exertion of running down the stairs was feeling like a drug. He realized he was getting a huge rush of adrenaline. Smashing the door open, everything was quiet except the slap, slap of his bare feet on linoleum and his own breathing.
The automatic doors swung open when the infected stepped before it. He was wearing only a scrub top that was bloody from under his face down to his stomach. He was also missing part of the back of his right thigh where he had been attacked. Behind him a woman followed, wearing only a bra and white slip. She had severe bite marks on her legs but otherwise appeared normal. One more male stood at the huge window and rubbed his face against the glass, leaving long red smears while banging his fists against the glass. He saw Caleb running in the hallway and began to shriek before he realized the runner was like him.
Caleb charged towards the infected, not slowing down as he raised the baton and swung with all his energy, striking the infected’s Adam’s apple. A loud crunch accompanied the strike and he paused long enough to follow-up with a strike to the back of the neck as the infected fell to the floor. The female looked at him in confusion and dropped to her knees in submission, just in time for him to bring up the baton and hit her in the back of her neck, dropping her. Caleb shrieked out in his torment at killing the woman.
The remaining infected looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he was seeing. The last remaining infected sprang into action when he saw Caleb running towards him. Caleb raised the baton and aimed for the infected’s Adam apple and missed, instead hitting it in high in the chest. It grabbed the baton with one hand and reached for Caleb’s throat with the other, trying to pull him closer. Caleb froze for a second, realizing he was in a world of hurt. He had to grab the infected’s neck, keeping his arm locked straight to keep from being bitten as he realized the infected was taller and stronger than him. As the infected shrieked at him, a putrid wash of liquids shot into Caleb’s eyes as he tried to keep them open despite the burning sensation. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as he realized what he had to do.
Dropping the baton, he used his right hand to grab the hand holding his neck, forcing it in place, then let go of the infected’s neck, using the freed hand to punch into the back of its elbow. He heard the crack of bones as the infected was forced forward and down by Caleb’s grip on his elbow. As he continued to bend over, Caleb brought up his left knee with all the force possible, the infected’s nose broke apart as Caleb shoved him forward away from him. The infected fell onto his face and was still. Caleb recovered the baton the same time the creature gave a shriek, trying to push itself off the ground. Caleb stepped forward and flicked the baton across the back of its neck and watched it drop to the pavement for the last time.
“That was amazing!” Caleb whirled around and saw the kid security guard standing just inside the emergency room entrance, safe behind the glass door, “They never told me how awesome the baton was as a weapon. The piece of crap .38 they issued me I wouldn’t trust as far as I could spit it. Can I have my baton back now?”
“Sure, kid, you’re going to need it.” Caleb tossed the weapon underhanded to the kid as he looked back at him in confusion, “There, kid, you get the last one.” At that moment a huge black infected wearing a brown security guard uniform stepped into the lights from the parking lot. There was no sign of blood on him and he appeared normal, until he shrieked and chased after the kid security guard who retreated into the hospital and fumbled with his keys until the glass door was secure. Caleb raised his hands up shoulder high in exasperation, questioning the kid’s actions. The kid tried to ignore Caleb, just as the infected ignored him as he began to hit and headbutt the glass door, trying to get in.
“Do I have to do everything?” Caleb shouted, walking up behind the infected security guard. He pulled the baton out of its little holster and then carefully unsnapped the automatic and gently slid it out, the infected ignoring him. Caleb cursed softly before taking two steps back and firing into the back of its head. The glass door was splattered in blood and a spider crack started from the force of the bullet started. The bullet was partially in the glass but stopped. He tried to pull it out but gave up as it looked like the safety glass had melted around the slug.
Senior Airman Wetzel was the first responder from Town Patrol to arrive at the hospital. He quickly took in the scene. Bodies were littered around the door to the emergency room. Inside he could see a security guard. Outside was not as well lit, but there was a single person wearing scrubs and had heavy blood splatter on his chest. “Do you want me to light him up?” Airman First Class Wyatt, the Guardian’s gunner asked.
“No, hold your position and cover me in case any more show up. I don’t want to even imagine the shit we’d get into firing the fifty into the hospital. The clang from the hatch opening drew everyone’s attention as Wetzel climbed out the commander’s hatch his carbine at low ready.
Not again! Caleb didn’t need his senses to tell him he was being looked at as the threat. “We’re clear now. I took out the four Zs you see here.” He made a point to aim the old 9mm towards the ceiling of the overhang and exaggerated the movements of decocking it, “I’m Lieutenant White, though you’ve caught me out of uniform.” Caleb grinned at his own joke, then continued, “I can’t stick my weapon in my pants or they’d fall to my knees, so I’m going to transfer it to my left hand and hold it by the barrel.” Wetzel watched him and hadn’t considered him a threat from the moment he heard him talk.
“That’s fine, Lieutenant White. Is this the only reason we were called out?” Wetzel let go of his carbine, letting it hang from the patrol harness as he reached up with his right hand and scratched his right ear. The Guardian’s turret turned to the right and then the left, scanning the approaches.
“That was a subtle signal you had there for your crew. I’m guessing you work for Captain Conrad or did they reorganize?” So this is the crazy infected that the Captain was telling me about, Wetzel thought.
“Yes, Sir,” he replied as he went over to check out how the infected had been taken down. No wounds he was able to attribute to the man before him except for the security guard missing part of his skull. He looked at the lieutenant again and noticed the telescoping baton in the same hand as the 9mm, “So you took out three Zs with a baton and one with your 9mm, Sir?”
“I took out the first three with just the baton and the last one almost got the best of me. The last one, that big security guard, I took his gun from him and used it to take him out, cause I was just plain tired after the first three.” Wetzel gave him a second look, then began to laugh; any tension he was feeling had melted away with the remark.
“That was good work, where did you learn to use a baton like that, Sir?” Wetzel asked curiously.
“Back when Conrad was still a Master Sergeant, he gave me and a friend a quick course on its use, then demonstrated his own proficiency with one. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve had to use one now since this shit started. If you don’t have anything for me, I’m going to shower and go to bed, after all, I�
�m wounded. Good night, Senior Airman Wetzel.” Caleb stepped over the dead body of the infected security guard as the remaining security guard unlocked the door for him.
Chapter 19
Surprise, Arizona. April 6, 2029
Gloria sat at her desk with her carbine broken down as she wiped down each component. Not giving it any real thought, she looked at her wristwatch and swore softly so she wouldn’t disturb Muller who had fallen asleep at his own desk, refusing to leave until she did. Master Sergeant Hale and his team should have been back hours ago and she didn’t even know what to do. She had placed too much confidence in him and not planned for a worst case scenario. She listened to the light chatter of the guards on her handheld while they monitored the area from the roof tops.
“Stallion, Stallion 7” Gloria dropped the firing pin as the second radio on her desk blasted. She wanted to ask a dozen things but only monitored since the Officer of the Day, actually a sergeant, was aware of the mission plans.
“Stallion 7, Stallion, go ahead.”
“Stallion 7 is on the last lap and needs the chokepoint ready. Our ETA to the chokepoint is ten minutes.
“Stallion copies, welcome home Stallion 7.”The acting officer of the day picked up the handheld that was on a charger. “Attention on the net, we have friendlies inbound. ETA under ten minutes, get the truck moving.”
Gunfire erupted along the roofline and walls, clearing the infected that were stymied by the school’s walls. A pair of soldiers opened the gate in time for a Stryker to go through. The shrieks of the infected could be heard coming from the housing communities that surrounded the school; first ones and twos were followed by the hundreds as the side streets filled with the infected following the sound of gunfire.
Spradling felt right at home in the commander’s seat of the Stryker, even if it had been three years since he’d last worn a uniform. They were not even out of sight of the school as infected continued to pour out from the side streets, running into the metal behemoth, many falling under its massive wheels. “This mission is a bust. We should have just let the convoy come to the school, then opened up on them. We drew in enough of them clearing the walls, and then however many more get drawn in when we have to clear them out again to open the gates again.”
It only took a couple of minutes to get to the planned chokepoint where the road was narrow with six foot high privacy fences on each side. The lights of the convoy were in view as Spradling dropped the ramp as two soldiers took security, the other two ran to a pair of buses. The convoy passed through just before both buses moved forward to block the road. Only a couple dozen infected appeared to have been drawn to the convoy. Spradling felt relief as the men re-entered the vehicle and the ramp was closing. “Okay this wasted night is over. Let’s go home and fight our way back into the school.”
The driver reversed the vehicle, turning right to perform a reverse ‘Y’ turn when the radios and electronics in front of the commander’s seat started shooting out sparks before catching fire, immediately covering the bulkhead in flames. Toxic smoke quickly filled the entire cabin of the vehicle as the engine died. The untrained in the troop compartment immediately dropped the ramp and bailed out. Spradling cursed as he dropped the fire extinguisher and followed the driver towards the ramp, making sure to grab his carbine. Two soldiers posted themselves as the others stood and looked like they were lost. Down the road, half a dozen infected appeared from around a corner, and then their shrieking started. Shrieking could be heard in answer from all directions as the infected charged towards the men.
Everyone opened up at the same time with Spradling cursing, and hollering, “Cease fire, dammit! You’re ringing the damn dinner bell!” Behind them, four infected charged by the burning Stryker, plowing into the men as they concentrated on the dangers ahead of them. Spradling opened fire, cutting down three of the infected and one of his own men who was under two of the infected. The forth infected caught an airman unaware, turning the same time the infected bit down on the airman’s shoulder. The airman managed to elbow the infected hard enough to break contact and bring up his carbine, emptying almost the entire magazine into his face. Everything slowed down as Spradling looked around him. “Everyone on me!” He ran in front of the burning Stryker and then down the road as the sound of shrieking was getting louder. Infected were coming out from under the bus they’d used as a chokepoint. “Get on the bus,” he looked over at the Stryker driver, “You take the wheel!” The driver was the first one on the bus as Spradling took up position, amazed he had beat the others to the bus. He aimed at the men as they ran towards him, then shot at the infected as they gained on them. Spradling was ready to cry in relief as the last man jumped into the bus. He tried to turn to follow when he realized he was being held in place by not one, but two infected from under the bus. Each had a firm grip on an ankle and were slobbering over his boots, using them as chew toys. He fired into the infected on his right boot, sickened as the head seemed to burst open like a ripe pumpkin, then fire a single shot into the other’s neck who then let go long enough for him to climb into the bus. Infected were now pounding on all sides of the bus. “Do we have a problem?” Spradling asked the driver as the bus stayed motionless.
“I got the bitch in gear, but it won’t move!” Spradling looked at him in confusion. Trying to figure out what could be wrong the same time he was fighting to keep the door shut.
“Push the yellow knob for the airbrakes!” came a shout from the back of the bus. The driver punched the yellow knob and the bus leapt forward, knocking everyone standing off their feet. Spradling climbed up and sat down in the seat behind the driver. Looking down at his pant legs, he could see both were unbloused, and were torn up at the bottom. He had puncture holes in his boots as well. The airman who knew how to drive the bus made his way up and stopped when he saw the damaged pants and boots.
“Awww crap!” He cried out, indecision written on his face, should he just shoot now or wait for him to turn.
“Don’t even get any ideas there, Air Force!” He raised a pant leg exposing his prosthetic legs. “Shit, they just issued the boots and uniform to me today! They better still have some in my size!” Laughter erupted from all around the bus as it made its way back to the school.
Hale looked to the south as gunfire erupted, the lack of the M2 not being engaged made him worry even more. Small wisps of black smoke could barely be seen against the night’s sky. “Screw this, we have the ammo now. Light up every one of those bastards!” He hollered at the guard force, “McBain, Hilton get back in, we’re going back out to see what the hell happened to the Stryker.” Hale had to shout at the top of his voice as every weapon had let loose. The .50 cal machine guns were clearing huge swaths through the infected while making the M4 carbines and other weapons sound like noisemakers.
Gloria watched as the ASV pulled out of the gates that were now littered with only dead infected. The fire ceased except for the occasional shot when an infected was seen to move. “Save your ammo, when the sun comes up, it’ll finish the job for us.” She shouted, “Keep an eye out for any new infected and take them out when they get close enough for easy shots.” She then turned towards the south and wondered if she’d lost any people.
“Gunner, you’re cleared hot. Just don’t shoot any of our own!” The words had barely left Hale’s mouth when he saw the school bus turn onto the street towards him, six infected still managing to hold onto the sides of the bus. “Check fire! We’ll have to take care of those when we get back to the school, the old fashioned way.
The naked infected woman managed to hold on and was staring at Spradling through the blood-smeared window while madly shrieking as the bus continued down the road. He lined up his carbine for an easy shot and held back. “No one fire on our hitchhikers, my hearing is bad enough already.” The driver watched through the side mirror, his lips curling up. He was overcoming his initial shock and wanted some payback.
“Everyone take your seats and hold on tight!�
� he hollered, a second later the bus bounced violently as it rose over the curb. The driver aimed to sideswipe the 25 MPH speed sign and ended up taking out his own side view mirror instead. He continued, partly on the curb and partly in the street as he aimed for a stop sign ahead. The post held firm but twisted the sign 90 degrees, it then became a fillet blade cutting into the infected on the side of the bus. Applause and cheers broke out from the back of the bus as the windows were covered in blood and gore left behind, as the infected fell away, some in pieces.
“Looks like we were missed, Sergeant Spradling. We have a Guardian ahead of us.” The Guardian was still firing its .50 cal, just not in their direction. The driver angled the bus back onto the road, bouncing everyone around, heading in the direction of the armored vehicle.
The driver of the bus slowed as he neared the other vehicle. The commander’s hatch on top popped open, the soldier motioning for them to speed up and keep going. The moment they passed, they heard the MK19 begin firing on distant concentrations of infected.
I could sit here all night and blast Zs, Hale thought, then realized there was still too much that had to be done back at the school before he could even think about sleep. Reluctantly he keyed his mike, “Let’s go home, it’s Miller time,” he said unenthusiastically.
Chapter 20
Douglas, Wyoming. April 6, 2029
The sound of activity was easy enough to block out as people showed up at the hospital. Now the problem was the smell of perfumes, shampoos, and deodorants that made Caleb want to gag. Just close my frickin’ door and let me sleep in he thought as he tried to use an extra pillow to mute the sounds and filter the smells. Maybe I can get the hell out of here and just go back to work. the thought of all the stupid crap they’d have him be doing made him hunker under his blanket and try even harder to get back to sleep. Then he sensed Captain Conrad was in the room, watching him. He smelled of light soap and laundry detergent. There was also the smell of bacon. Without uncovering his head, he addressed his visitor.
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