by Spell, David
When the machine gun fell silent, Cunningham peeked back around the wall. The large group of infected had been destroyed. She stepped forward so the federal officers could see her.
“Don’t shoot!” she yelled. “I’ve got some survivors and was told to meet you guys here.”
A big, muscular black man waved her on. The CDC officers had formed a wide perimeter around a dead body on the pavement and one of them was taking photos of it. The others were looking outward for threats. They all watched Grace and Kevin bring their group in.
Two running zombies rounded the corner the group had just come from. The CDC officers could not shoot for fear of hitting one of the survivors. They saw the man at the rear of the group raise a small pistol and make two perfect head shots. He turned and jogged back to where everyone else was.
University of Georgia, Saturday, 1645 hours
Chuck used his smart phone to snap photos of Amir’s face and then swabbed the inside of his mouth to get DNA samples. The swab was placed inside of a doubled plastic evidence bag. That was sealed in another bag and secured in one of his cargo pockets. He also did a search of the terrorist’s clothes. A wallet and an extra magazine for the Beretta that he had recovered earlier also went into evidence bags. He carefully checked the small canvas duffel bag that al-Razi had been carrying. They could search it later; for now, he just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t booby-trapped.
McCain saw the group of survivors come running up but was focused on getting what the Assistant Director of Operations for the CIA had asked him to get. Al-Razi’s death needed to be confirmed and McCain now had that proof. He straightened up and looked at the survivors. A young, very attractive, black police officer was talking to Eddie. Chuck noticed that Jimmy eased over to be part of the conversation. Another man with an obvious military bearing was standing nearby. He popped the magazine out of a small pistol and counted the rounds.
“You about empty?” Chuck asked him.
“Five rounds left. I don’t suppose you’re carrying a Glock nine?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said, handing him a seventeen round magazine. One of the great features about the Glocks was that the bigger mags were designed to function in the the smaller guns.
The relief was evident on the man’s face. “Thank you. My name’s Kevin, by the way. That’s my wife, Emily, over there.”
“I’m Chuck. Nice to meet you. When we start moving, try not to shoot unless they’re right on top of us. These things are drawn to sound and our rifles are suppressed. It helps keep the noise down a little. Were you in the military?”
Kevin nodded. “I’m one of the full-time National Guard guys. I’ve shot a little bit.”
“Well, we’re glad to have the help, Kevin. Hey, Eddie, I’m done,” McCain said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Andy pointed up the walkway that Chuck had run up earlier carrying Rebecca’s body. There was a large group of zombies about a hundred yards away coming towards them. Others continued to come from the other direction, leaving the stadium and drawn to the sound of gunshots.
“Let’s go back the way we came.”
“Sounds good, Andy. I had point coming, you want to lead us back? And this gentleman,” motioning at Kevin, “seems to know what he is doing with his pistol. Maybe let him be close to the front, too?”
The former Marine Spec Ops warrior nodded and told Luis to join them in the front. Eddie, Chris, and Alejandro would stay towards the rear of the group. Chuck, Jimmy, and Grace would stay in the middle of the pack. McCain saw Jimmy hand Grace an extra pistol magazine. It was fortunate that the university police were carrying the same handguns as his men.
By the time they got back to the Miller Learning Center, the large group of Zs was only forty yards away. The officers quickly herded the survivors inside and secured the door. As they were leaving the building through the door at the other end of the hallway, they could hear the zombies banging on the closed door.
The rest of the trip across campus to the Richard B. Russell Library for Political Research and Studies was fairly uneventful. They shot a total of twelve infected on their return and most importantly, they got all the survivors to the open field. The bad news was that they could see groups of zombies converging on them. Counting the CDC officers there were thirty-five people that needed to be airlifted out. That was three trips for the helicopter, which translated into a lot of time on the ground for everyone else, trying not to get eaten.
The Blackhawk covered the group all the way in and the pilot landed just as they got to the clearing. Scotty jumped off to give his place to one of the survivors. Of the twenty-seven people that Grace had rescued, fifteen were women. Chuck and Eddie picked the first twelve ladies, including Kevin’s wife, Emily. She didn’t want to leave without him but he kissed her and told her that he would see her soon.
The helicopter lifted off to carry the survivors away from the infected campus. McCain motioned to his men to move everyone up to the library. There was a large, flat area at the top of the stairs that they could defend. It wasn’t perfect but it should work for a little while. From what the CDC officers knew, most zombies struggled with stairs and the team had a large, clear field of fire from which to engage targets.
The closest group of forty infected was now less than a hundred yards away and closing in on their location. Several of the zombies started to run. The men checked their weapons, got into prone shooting positions, and started engaging them. The optics on their rifles allowed them to make the long distance head shots.
The suppressed rifles spit out their rounds at over three thousand feet a second. Kevin stood with Grace behind the line of federal police officers lying prone on the pavement. They watched with respect as their bullets cut down the infected. So many of these were wearing the university colors of red, black, and white. Just an hour or two before, those people were anticipating watching their team play in the home opener. Now, they were dead but still functioning under the control of the hideous bio-terror virus.
In less than a minute, twenty-five of them had been cut down. Thirty seconds later, the last of the big group were sprawled on the pavement or the grass. The area was clear for the moment and the CDC officers stood and reloaded their weapons, keeping an eye downrange for the next attack. Scotty scanned the survivors, his face registering surprise when he saw Kevin.
“Is that Major Kevin Clark?”
Kevin looked at the big man and broke out into a grin. “Is that Sergeant Scotty Smith?”
The two men embraced, both talking at once. “The last I heard, you were putting out fires and posing for those buff fireman calendars,” Kevin said.
Scotty laughed. “I was up until about a year ago when this fine organization realized that they couldn’t function without me. They hired a couple of Marines,” he said, nodding at Andy and Jimmy. “They’re ok, but they quickly realized that they needed a Ranger to lead the way.”
McCain, Marshall, and Fleming walked up to the two men. Smith said to them, “Major Clark here was my CO on my last Iraqi tour. He got promoted to major about the time I got blown up and decided to get out.”
He introduced them and they all shook hands. “I bet you have some stories you could tell us about this one,” said Eddie, pointing at Scotty.
Kevin laughed. “We’ll have to have a beer or three and I’ll tell you some tales about Sergeant Scotty Smith.”
“I thought I heard you say you were in the National Guard?” Chuck asked.
Kevin smiled. “I am. I retired from the army a couple of years ago but accepted a promotion to light colonel to go full-time in the National Guard.”
“I bet that was shock and awe for those weekend warriors. I doubt they have many officers in the guard with a Ranger tab on their uniforms,” said Scotty.
“Hey, amigos, we’ve got some more coming this way,” said Luis.
The CDC officers immediately went back to their positions. A group of thirty came from the same direc
tion as the first group. They came up the walkway that Chuck had run up earlier. It didn’t appear that they had zeroed in on the police and the survivors yet. Another group of twenty, though, came from the same direction the survivors had just come from.
“Is it just me or do these Zs act like they’re smelling for us?” wondered Jimmy.
This closer group seemed to be walking with their noses in the air, as if sniffing for their prey. The men started shooting them, cutting these down quickly. The second, larger group, heard the shots and began moving directly towards them. The suppressors on their rifles did not completely eliminate the noise and these infected began growling and opening and closing their mouths, almost in unison.
The zombies began to run towards the group at the library, anticipating an easy meal. The rifles turned towards them and kept firing. Making head shots on running targets was very difficult and they missed quite a few. Fortunately, these Zs were running right at them so that made it a little easier.
Some of the infected were only fifty yards away and closing fast. The men were aiming and firing as fast as they could. When their rifles locked open, their reloads were quick so that they could continue shooting. The last two zombies fell at the bottom of the library steps.
“Air One to CDC One, we’re two minutes out,” came the voice over Chuck’s radio. “Is the LZ clear?”
“CDC One. The LZ’s clear for the moment.”
“Luis, Chris, and Jimmy, grab the next twelve passengers and escort them to the LZ. The rest of us will provide cover from here,” Chuck ordered.
The Blackhawk lifted off with the second group of survivors. One more trip and they could all get out of there. Chuck thought briefly of Rebecca’s body in a bag, in the helicopter, and shoved the image out of his mind. Not now, he thought.
McCain watched the university officer, Grace, talking to Jimmy. He nodded at her and then shrugged his shoulders. The girl had a pleading look on her face. Jones said something to her and then walked over to Eddie.
Two more groups of infected were coming towards the library. Chuck estimated about fifty total. These also had their noses to the air, as if they were sniffing for victims. They were about a hundred and fifty yards away and didn’t have a lock on the survivors yet.
The police officers and all the civilians went prone onto their chests to make themselves harder to see. The officers looked through the optics on their rifles, their fingers resting lightly on the triggers.
“Let’s wait until they get a little closer,” said Chuck.
Eddie was lying next to him. “Jimmy just told me that Grace is asking if we can go back into the stadium and rescue another police officer and some more survivors.”
Both men kept looking forward, in the direction of the zombies. Chuck looked over at his friend but didn’t speak.
“I told him I’d check with you,” said Eddie. “It’s been a rough day. I’m ready to get out of here but I know if it was me trapped over there, I sure would appreciate somebody coming to get me.”
McCain looked back through his scope. They hadn’t moved any closer and the large group had stopped in the roadway and were just standing and sniffing the air.
He sighed. “I guess that’s what our job is, Eddie. Protecting and Serving. Let’s get as much information as we can. And, let’s make sure they’re still alive. If we can get confirmation that this other officer and the other survivors are still there, we’ll go get them.”
Marshall nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ll go see what I can find out.”
He crawled over to Jimmy and Grace and spoke softly to them. Chuck saw the relief on Grace’s face. She slid backwards to get further back on the landing. She pulled out her cell phone and made a call. McCain heard her talking quietly to someone for about five minutes.
When Cunningham disconnected, she crawled back over to Eddie and Jimmy and spoke to them for several minutes. The group of zombies that the men were watching continued to stand motionless in the roadway. Marshall slid back over to McCain.
“Grace talked to her,” he said quietly. “She’s still alive and has fourteen people with her. The zombies know they’re there but haven’t been able to break through. It’s not gonna to be easy. Facing the stadium from here, she’s on the left side, downstairs in one of the team’s locker rooms. There’s a field that the helicopter can drop us off at that’s close to that entrance. Grace said she’ll go with us and show us the way.”
“Let me call the Blackhawk,” Chuck said, reaching for his walkie-talkie.
“CDC One to Air One,” he called.
“Air One, go ahead. We’ll be back with you in five minutes.”
McCain told him what he wanted and gave their new mission to the pilot. He would pick everyone up and then drop the officers off near the stadium. After that, the helicopter would take the survivors to the drop-off point at the local airport. A command post had been set up there and the survivors would be taken care of. The Blackhawk would then return for their new passengers and the CDC officers.
A couple of minutes later, they heard the distinctive sound of the Blackhawk. It stopped over the group of infected that stared up at the machine hovering above them. A few of them reached upwards as if they could grab it. The door gunner aimed his mini-gun and loosed several long bursts, eliminating all of them. The helicopter then flared in for a soft landing in the field.
The police officers and the last of the survivors were already at the extraction point and loaded quickly. Chuck looked around to make sure that no one had been left behind. Satisfied, he climbed aboard and the Blackhawk lifted off. As the helicopter rose, they saw a large group of zombies moving to the sound of the gunfire. Well, the more that are over here, he thought, the fewer we will have to contend with over there.
Near Sanford Stadium, University of Georgia, Saturday, 1730 hours
The officers checked their weapons, grabbed some more loaded rifle magazines from the aircrew, and got ready to go back into Hell. Chuck had briefed them on the new mission: rescue another police officer and fourteen more survivors. There were no complaints or questions. The men knew that this was their job and their duty and were ready to do whatever they needed to do to help these people escape a certain death.
The flight was a short one but the pilot circled the landing zone to make sure it was clear, the door gunner looking over the top of his mini-gun. When he was satisfied, he landed in the grass near Reed Hall, a dormitory adjacent to the stadium. The CDC officers and UGA Officer Cunningham jumped off the Blackhawk and ran towards Sanford’s gates. Scotty paused to shake Kevin’s hand and promised to stay in touch. The helicopter lifted off to take the remaining passengers to join the others who had been rescued. The pilot still had plenty of fuel and would be returning to provide air cover for the officers on the ground.
A group of twenty-five zombies, hearing the helicopter, charged towards the officers from the direction of the stadium. Over half of these were wearing the UGA marching band uniforms, black pants, red jackets, and the distinctive black and red hat with the black plume sticking up. There were also a few cheerleaders in the crowd.
A friend of the band members had snuck three Starbucks coffees in for her friends to have before the game started. A hefty tuba player had his girlfriend bring him two pieces of pizza. The coffee and the pizza were tainted and these students were infected almost immediately. They quickly began attacking other band members and bystanders.
Almost the entire group had been infected or killed outright. One of the marching band had grabbed a cheerleader and managed to bite her arm. She jerked it free and ran away but quickly became infected and turned on another cheerleader, who spread it on to others.
Now they were rushing towards Grace and the federal officers. They were only fifty yards away and closing fast. Grace wasn’t sure if these were infected people or if they were trying to escape the slaughter that was taking place inside Sanford Stadium.
She challenged them. “Stop!” she yelle
d. “Are you infected or escaping?”
The federal officers could tell that they were infected by their growling and by their mannerisms. They quickly swung out into a skirmish line. Jimmy stepped in front of Cunningham and the men started shooting, cutting them down with head shots. Two of the zombies made it to the police line, a band member and a cheerleader, one of them reaching for Andy and the other trying to grab Jimmy. Without hesitation, they both slammed their rifles into the zombies, knocking them backwards and then shooting them in the face.
They paused momentarily to reload and then continued forward. As they started up the ramp to the gate of the stadium, hundreds of zombies began converging on them from both directions. The officers shot as they ran, dropping more of them, and following Grace. The infected were surging in large groups towards the sound of gunshots. We are going to be surrounded soon, McCain thought. Thankfully, all of the infected were not runners, but they were all tracking on the police officers and moving their way.
Grace led them inside and looked at Chuck. “Stairs or elevator?” she asked.
“Stairs,” he answered, and then raised his rifle and shot an infected football official, wearing the distinctive black and white striped shirt. The shirt was covered with blood, as was the man’s face. McCain’s bullet hit him in the nose and continued into his brain.
Another official was on top of a UGA cheerleader and biting her neck. Her face had been ripped apart leaving her unrecognizable. He saw the police officers and started getting to his feet. Andy put a shot into the side of his head, putting him down for good.
Cunningham ran down the walkway, further inside the stadium, pausing to shoot two zombie concession workers that were blocking her path, chewing on a middle-aged man’s body. The loud retort of her unsuppressed Glock drew even more infected towards them. Everyone was running and shooting. They had to keep moving and they had to stay together. An isolated officer would be quickly overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the infected.