Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (Escaping the Dead)

by Lundy, W. J.

  Brad ran down the long hallway and kicked in an apartment door, as he stepped inside two crazies came at him from a bedroom. Brad fired at them from the hip with his M4, hitting the first high in the chest turning it sideways while the second came crashing into him, both of them falling to the ground. Brad was fighting to keep its head and snapping jaws away from him, while the thing scratched and clawed at his body armor. One of the privates followed Brad into the room and quickly ended the crazy with a soccer kick to the head, knocking it loose from Brad. Turning, he then terminated the other one with a burst to the skull from his unsuppressed M4.

  The noise of the soldier’s rifle made Brad’s ears ring, but he pushed through the small apartment and saw a window. He broke the glass with the butt of his rifle and peeked outside. The window opened into an alley on the side of the building. There didn’t appear to be a safe way out, but the building across from them had a fire escape with the ladder extended.

  Brad huddled the men into the apartment, and told them to get out the window and up the ladder across the alley. He ran back into the hall to find Sean and Brooks finishing the barricading, and booby trapping of the door with a claymore mine and trip wire. Brad led the SEALs to the apartment, and out the window.

  As he suspected the alley was a dead-end. The open end pointed back to the street where the mob had gathered, but it was also empty. They quickly made their way to the ladder and climbed as high as they could, then pulling the ladder up behind them. Following the rest of the soldiers up the ladder they pulled themselves over the top rung and onto the building’s roof.

  As Sergeant Turner was making his way to them, he announced that the roof was clear and the access door was secure. With a thundering clap they heard the improvised claymore explode in the building below them. The explosion blasted and partially collapsed the building and blew a cloud of dust into the street out front. “Well I think they know we’re here now,” Sean said with a smile. “No worries though, I don’t think anything saw us climb this ladder. If we lay low, they should go back to their nests—in a day or two,” Brooks said. Brad frowned at the statement, especially with the sun still high in the sky and his camelback only half full.

  Just as Brad was beginning to think it was going to be a long night they heard the report of AK47s coming from down the street. Brad looked up and over the edge of the roof and saw the small white car. Two men in Arab garb jumped out and were shooting at the mob in front of the destroyed apartment building. When the mob would get too close, they would jump back in the car, drive further down the street, and do it again; effectively leading them away from Brad’s position.

  “Son of a bitch! It’s Junayd!” Brooks said. “Look at that shit; he’s clearing the way for us”. As everyone was running to the edge of the roof to look out below; a large open bed truck pulled in front of the building. A man jumped from the cab and waved frantically at them. “Well, what do we do chief?” Asked Brad.

  “Looks like he’s offering us a ride, rude to turn them down,” Sean answered. Wasting no time, they all made their way back down the ladder. They ran around the corner and jumped into the back of the truck. A small Arab man closed the tailgate behind them and they sped off.

  The truck drove quickly down streets changing directions every block or two; occasionally bouncing a primal off of its large steel bumper. Junayd’s men drove for some time until they were sure they had lost any followers. They pulled into a darkened side street with high walls on both sides, far from anyplace Brad recognized. Lifting their heads to look over the high tailgate; they saw the small car pull in behind them. Sean and Brooks got to their feet and leapt to the ground. A large Arab man approached and shook Sean’s hand, then embraced Brooks in a bear hug.

  “My friends we are even now, you saved me, now I save you,” said Junayd.

  “You got that right Junayd,” said Brooks smiling at the man, “but we also gave you weapons and a car. It would be really nice of you if you could get us back home, and not just leave us on this street.”

  “Yes friend, that is a very real possibility, but I need you to also allow my people into your home,” said Junayd. “We have seen that you have taken the customs compound; you must take in our people. This city is not safe for them. Take in my people, and we will safely bring you home.”

  “Well it’s not my place to negotiate over, I’m only a guest there Junayd” answered Sean.

  “I see” said Junayd frowning, “It appears you men will have a long walk home. You should hurry. It will be dark soon”.

  “Hold up, I think we have room, just get us back to the warehouse and we can work this out,” said Brad.

  “Wait Brad, we can’t trust these people, maybe we should just get out here, I think we’re better off on our own,” snapped Turner.

  Junayd glared at the insult and turned to walk towards the cars. Brad quickly jumped from the bed of the truck and walked over to Junayd. “Junayd, if you get us safely back to the customs compound, I will open my doors to your people. We’re all in this fight together now,” Brad said extending his hand.

  “Agreed,” said Junayd briefly touching his hand to his heart before grasping Brads in a tight handshake that quickly turned into a hug.

  The ride back to the compound was quiet and uneventful. The vehicles pulled into a narrow ravine that twisted around and behind the customs compound. The large truck lurched to a stop and the small man dropped the tailgate of the truck. The men jumped out, stretched, and looked around. “Go through that hole in the fence,” said Junayd pointing. “If you go through and follow the fence till it ends you will see the railroad track that will lead you back.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Brad.

  “My cousin and I have been raiding and smuggling things from this customs yard for years. We only asked your permission to stay here to be polite,” Junayd said, giving Turner a cold stare. “We have plenty of work fighting those things in the city; we really do not need to be bothered with fighting Americans also.

  “Get back to your warehouse and prepare your men. We will be at your gates shortly after the sun sets,” Junayd said.

  “Why not wait till tomorrow? You know they are more dangerous at night,” asked Brad.

  “More dangerous? Yes, but also more predictable. We will use distractions to move the packs where we want them while we deliver the people to you. Be ready for them,” Junayd said as he turned and walked back to his car. Shutting the doors, the engines started and the vehicles drove back down the ravine leaving the soldiers.

  Sean walked by and patted Brad on the shoulder; a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Turner. “You did good Brad, now let’s get back to the hooch” said Sean as he lifted the hole in the fence while the men went through.

  They made their way back to the warehouse, and received a warm welcome from the waiting men. Brad briefed them on what had happened and that they were about to receive guests. Sean and a couple of the soldiers cleared the warehouse next door so that it could be set up as lodging for the incoming civilians. Brad took Sergeant Turner on a tour of the compound and helped his men settle into the building. They were happy to see the flush toilets and running water. Brad got Cole started on preparing the evening meal and he told them all to get some rest. As Brad was leaving, Turner called him over.

  “You have done well here Brad, and you did good getting these men here safely. I just want you to know that I won’t step on your feet,” said Turner. “It seems the world has gone to shit quickly. I don’t know where that leaves the military, but I am a Platoon Sergeant and it’s going to stay that way. However, I think you have proven yourself, and you should be the acting Lieutenant until we come up with something different.”

  Brad grinned, “I appreciate the gesture Sergeant, but I don’t think you have the authority to give battle field commissions,” he laughed.

  “Yeah you’re probably right, but this is the best I got Brad. It allows me to save face, and will keep the men from gettin
g caught up in a power struggle,” responded Turner.

  “Well then, sounds good to me. I have work to do Sergeant, we can talk again later,” said Brad.

  “Okay buddy, and how bout you drop the ‘Sergeant’ shit? We can catch up after I grab some shut eye.”

  Brad walked outside the warehouse door; he bumped into Sean heading back in the other direction. He explained what had just happened with Turner. “Well damn, I didn’t think the guy had it in him, but I think it was the right decision. I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to work together, maybe I was wrong,” said Sean.

  “Sergeant Turner isn’t a bad guy, and he has a lot of combat experience, I trust him”. They were beginning to lose the daylight so they retreated inside, and climbed to the roof. Just as the last bits of sunlight faded, they heard an explosion distant in the city. A fire began to burn, and they heard reports of the AK47 rifles.

  “Well there is Junayd, right on time,” said Brooks. They could see the primal crazies shifting in the streets and heading towards the racket on the far side of town. Sean grinned when the two flares popped and went high into the sky. “They must have learned that trick from your sergeant,” he chuckled.

  “Wherever they learned it, it’s working. Look at them all, they go to it like mosquitoes on a bug zapper,” laughed Cole.

  Eric pointed down toward the railroad gate at the front of the compound “They’re here.” Brad stood to look and saw four large flatbed trucks overloaded with people, a few more then he had expected.

  Brad watched his men open the gates and guide the overloaded trucks in. They lead them all the way down to the empty warehouse. Brad left the roof and made his way down the ladder. When he reached the small convoy of vehicles he was greeted by Junayd with another stiff handshake. “Thank you my friend,” Junayd said. “These people had it very badly out there; I don’t think you realize how much safety and security these fences will give them.” Brad watched as his men helped women and children exit the vehicles and enter the warehouse. He moved into the building, it was dark, but they were afraid to turn on any lights while the overhead doors were still open. Sean and his men had laid out cardboard into makeshift mats on the ground for the people to sit on. Brad saw that the warehouse was laid out very similarly to the one they were using.

  As he walked, he saw that Eric had converted one of the offices into a medical clinic and he was treating a small child, and others had already started to get in line. The loft area was already occupied by several men and they were carrying their limited supplies up the stairs for safekeeping. Brad looked around and tried to get a count in his head. “Junayd, you have nearly fifty people here, this will be a lot to feed,” Brad said.

  “Seventy-two to be exact, and yes it will be a lot, but the city holds resources. Unlike Americans, we know how to live off of this land. We will be fine my friends, shortly my men will return from their mini Jihad against the monsters in the city. Let’s walk so that we may greet them,” said Junayd.

  As if on cue, they could hear the vehicles approach the gate. While they walked, Brad saw his men working with some of Junayd’s men to open the gates and escort in the small car. Once the car pulled in and killed its engine, the small man from before stepped out with four other local fighters. Junayd exchanged words with the man, and then patted him hard on the shoulder while facing Brad. “This is Hasan, he is my best soldier.”

  Brad extended his hand and smiled. “I think we almost met earlier today. Thank you for your help Hasan and good work getting the people here safely.” Hasan smiled as he returned the handshake.

  The next several days were spent improving the small camp. The soldiers decided to give up the warehouse space to the civilians and they all moved into a small guard house near the gate. Although the guard house was smaller, it gave the soldiers privacy and relieved them of the guilt of thinking about the families crammed into the single space. They continued to stand watch nightly on the roof of the warehouse in the sniper hide they had setup. With the help of Junayd’s men providing distractions so that the noise wouldn’t attract the primals, they were able to utilize some of the heavy equipment to move the railroad shipping containers into a large wall. After a few days’ work the compound was now ringed in by the large forty foot long and ten foot high containers.

  The men slowly made improvements to the camps perimeter. After the wall was constructed they started to lose some of the fear of making noise. Any stray primal that moved too close to the compound were quickly terminated with the use of Sean’s suppressed sniper rifle. After a week, the camp was fortified. Containers stacked end to end completely enclosed the camp. They had a sliding gate and the men had cut access doors into the containers that held food or other valuable supplies. Brad was extremely happy with the progress made.

  Late on the thirtieth night since the outbreak, Brad made his way to the communal fire pit inside his former residence. The warehouse now was divided into small shacks constructed of cardboard and crates salvaged from inside the containers. He saw Junayd with Sean and Brooks off to the side of the fire so he sat next to them. Once he was settled, a smiling young woman handed him a bowl of rice and dried meat. A child handed him an energy drink which made Brad laugh. “You have done well by these people Brad! They would welcome you into their tribe,” said Junayd.

  This gave all of the military men a laugh. “I am honored Junayd, really, but this isn’t my home. I think there is more for me than this.”

  Sean gave Brad a serious look. “That’s exactly what we have been discussing lately. Brooks and I have decided that it is time to move on; we have to see where things are at.”

  “What are you getting at Sean, you want to leave? Where will you go?” answered Brad.

  “Brad, I fear we have been forgotten out here. We were thinking we could make our way to Bremmel; things should have died down by now. We should be able to gather supplies from there; then do our best to make it to Bagram down route 76. It won’t be easy, but I am confident we can make it. Bagram fell fast in the early days of the outbreak; maybe there is something left, maybe we can find an aircraft and get out of here.

  “Oh yeah, and we want you to go with us.”

  Thank You for Reading

  Lundy W. J. (2013-03-11). Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Kindle Edition.

  If you have an opportunity, please leave a review on Amazon.

  Visit W.J. Lundy Facebook

  Volume II in the Whiskey Tango Foxtrot series

  Tales of the Forgotten

  Is now available.

  A Kindle exclusive sneak peek

  Tales of the Forgotten

  A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Novel

  By W.J. Lundy

  PROLOGUE

  It had been weeks since the first attack. Since the day the world went dark and everyone forgot about them. The day he lost his company and most of his friends. They must have more to worry about than a half dozen stranded soldiers in the back forty of the world. No contact, no messages, not even a fly over from a friendly aircraft. They were completely isolated and alone.

  “Target, twelve o’clock. Primal on the wire,” the spotter whispered.

  Brads team had done well for themselves, considering their situation. They had held up in the Customs compound at Hairatan; they fortified it, made it a refuge. Their previous mission, in their old life, had been to patrol the streets looking for the Taliban. Now they worked with a former Taliban commander named Junayd rescuing civilians and rebuilding in the furthest reaches of Afghanistan. Once enemies; they were now unified in a common goal to survive.

  “Identified, primal on the wire,” Brad whispered, pulling the rifle into his shoulder and letting his cheek rest on the butt stock. Gripping the heavy M24 hand guards tightly he forced himself to relax as he lined his dominant eye up with the scope.

  The routines had become monotonous, the same tasks over and over. His deployment to Afghanistan had felt the same, but this was different. There was no real end to this, no day c
ircled on a calendar to work towards. No goal to reach, no motivation to press forward. This was just surviving every day; day after day. They would do patrols into the city to salvage goods and locate survivors. They had found plenty of the later, but never any soldiers. He feared his men may be the last remaining US Forces in country.

  “Range twelve hundred meters, dial eighteen plus one click,” ordered the spotter.

  The compound was home now. Survivors of all types seeking refuge had come here looking for safety inside the fences. They all came together working the walls and doing the tasks that keep a camp running, soldiers and civilians side by side now. Brads men knew the compound wouldn’t stand against a large mass attack. How could it? Their own base had fallen in the first days and that was heavily fortified. That was when the attacks came in the thousands. More recently they would come at the walls in twos or threes. Unless something alerted them, it was very rare to see more than ten at a time during the daylight. No one wanted to think about a mob pressed against their gates, but they knew they were out there.

  “Roger, eighteen plus one dialed in,” Brad answered.

  His men hated the patrols. But they were a necessary evil, essential to the survival of the group. This wasn’t like hunting the Taliban which could lead to days or even weeks of boredom; broken only by minutes of unrelenting violence. This was constant. The soldiers were almost guaranteed to run into conflict every time they left the wire. And unlike before, there would be no calls for MedEvacs or air support. The last patrol Brad was on they had searched the village market. From all appearances the place had been abandoned and well picked over, but they needed to break into the old storage warehouse to be sure.