by Mark Tufo
“I’ve actually heard some of those on sick call have died.”
The conversation doesn’t stop, but the volume dies to the point where Lynn can only hear an occasional murmur and wonders if she is going to have to cover another shift.
Not that it matters much really now. There’s not much else to do with the Internet down, she thinks, concentrating and focusing once again on the redeployment.
After responding to a few more messages, and making sure everyone is doing what they should be doing and where they should be, Lynn stands, stretches, and heads outside for a break. There has been no sign of Captain Braser, and she is quite thankful for that. The assault of heat greets her as she steps into the bright mid-morning sun. Lynn sees her friend standing by the corner of the building having a smoke and walks over.
“Sergeant Connell,” he says and nods.
He inhales on the cigarette between his fingers as Lynn steps up in front of him. Dressed in the same digital uniform with Sergeant First Class Stripes on the front and standing a good six inches taller than her, Lynn has to tilt her head up slightly to look him in the eyes.
“Sergeant Drescoll,” she says, noticing the bags under his slightly bloodshot brown eyes. “Stay up late?”
“Yeah. I had to cover an additional shift last night,” Drescoll says taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhales, the smoke drifting away.
“Me too. It looks like more of the same tonight, although, I haven’t seen the captain yet,” Lynn comments.
“God, I hope not. I’m exhausted from last night and just want to sleep,” Sergeant Drescoll responds. “I heard rumors over at the office of some attacks last night. I mean, our own people attacking each other.”
“I just heard the same thing inside,” Lynn says, glancing back toward the building entrance.
“I also heard they’re going to start quarantining those who report to sick call with the flu. I hope that’s not the case. There are enough out as it is,” Drescoll says. Lynn merely nods, wondering how long they’re going to be short staffed and how far behind this is going to put the redeployment.
“You know,” Drescoll says, stubbing out his smoke, “I also heard there are a lot of people dying from this shit.”
“Well, that’s already in the news,” Lynn replies, remembering the news articles she read and commented on with Jack.
“No! I mean from the vaccinations,” Sergeant Drescoll says with emphasis. “Did you get yours yet?”
“No, I was planning to get it after lunch or work,” Lynn answers.
“Hmm, I’d wait as long as I could if I were you. Well, back to the grind,” he says crushing his cigarette butt in the ash can and starts off across the sandy strip toward his building.
“See ya later,” Lynn says heading back to her building.
With her hand on the door handle, its heat radiating into her palm, she hears a shout from behind her. Turning to look over her shoulder, she sees Sergeant Drescoll standing mid-way between buildings looking at her.
“What?” she shouts back.
“Lunch?” he calls.
“Sure,” Lynn answers, opening the door and steps into the darker and cooler building, wondering if there is anything to what Drescoll said.
The same rumor from two different sources, but rumors are rumors and she has tried to stay away from those during her fourteen-year career, thus far being mostly successful. Even so, Drescoll works in Intel so may have more of a clue than others, and, he isn’t one to pass on rumors or talk just for the sake of hearing himself. Shrugging it off, but keeping that in a small part of her mind, she settles into her desk to finish some paperwork before lunch. The others inside have also settled into their seats working on their assigned tasks.
Finishing their lunch together, Lynn and Drescoll step out from the dining facility with the sun hammering down. The heat instantly bakes them and causes a sheen of sweat to quickly appear on their foreheads. A loudspeaker mounted on a pole close to them squeals, indicating a coming announcement.
“Attention, all personnel. The Cape Town Flu vaccinations are temporarily suspended at this time. Repeat. All Cape Town flu vaccinations are suspended at this time.”
“I guess that takes care of that,” Lynn says after the echo of the blasting loudspeaker silences.
“I guess so,” Drescoll says. “I’m glad I waited.”
“Me too,” Lynn responds. They part company with each heading back toward their respective areas.
On her way, Lynn wonders again at the validity of the rumors. The military loves their shots, so they wouldn’t cancel a vaccination unless there was something very wrong.
What if people were actually getting sicker from the shot? How long until people are back? I sure hope this doesn’t delay my return home, she thinks, arriving back at the office. Oh my God, I hope Jack didn’t get one. What am I thinking? Of course, he didn’t. He wouldn’t even go to the doctor for his knee.
Back at her desk, there is an email from brigade stating that the flu vaccinations are suspended verifying the loudspeaker announcement. With the other personnel out sick, there is actually quite a bit to do, and the day passes by quickly. There has been no sign of Captain Braser, and most of the others in the office left at 16:00. At 17:00, Lynn logs off her workstation and heads out of the now almost empty building. An odd feeling settles over her.
This building has never been this empty, she thinks, heading out into the late afternoon after making sure there is coverage through the night for the operations center.
The suffocating heat still permeates the outdoors, but is cooling somewhat as Lynn finishes her dinner and heads back to the barracks.
I hope the Internet is up, she thinks, approaching the door to her convex barracks. Only a couple of weeks and I am outta here.
As she opens the rear door to the barracks, the coolness of the interior rushes out, chilling her and causing goose bumps to run up her arm. The large interior is broken up by bunk beds, with wall lockers breaking the area up into smaller, more private cubicles.
Her ‘roommate’s’ bunk is just inside the door to the left, sharing the private space with her own bunk against the left hand corner. Her roommate is lying on her lower bunk. The door begins to close and the loudspeaker squeals once again. Knowing retreat has already sounded, Lynn turns to hold the door open and listens.
“Attention all personnel. Anyone experiencing flu symptoms is to report immediately to zone two. Repeat. Anyone experiencing flu symptoms is ordered to report to zone two. If you notice anyone with flu symptoms, you are to notify security immediately. That is all.”
Wow! This is getting serious, Lynn thinks, heading to her corner and grabbing her laptop out of her footlocker.
Finding that there is still not an Internet connection, and suspecting it is purposely being blocked, she reaches for her book. A chill runs up her spine accompanied by a sad and lonely feeling. Tomorrow is her day off, and this was supposed to be one of the times when she and Jack could talk longer.
I hope he’s okay, she thinks, settling onto her lower bunk and opening her book.
She reads until the lights go out at 20:00 and falls asleep in her fatigues with her boots by the side of her bunk.
A groaning noise awakens her in the middle of the night. It seems as if it is coming from the bunk next to her; her roommate’s bunk. Groggily, Lynn opens her eyes to a mostly dark barracks lit only by exit lights at either end of the building. Accustomed to the various sounds of people sleeping in close proximity, she rolls over and closes her eyes attempting to get back to sleep. The moaning penetrates her sleepy mind once again.
I can’t wait to get out of this place and have some privacy, she thinks, the sleepiness slowly vanishing.
Not wanting to get up, but remembering the loudspeaker announcement, she shucks off her blanket and sits up, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to banish the fatigue.
Swinging her legs over and setting her feet on the cool concrete floor, she re
aches overhead to grab her flashlight. Turning the light on, but cupped in her hand, letting only a little light shine through her fingers, she stands and quietly walks over to where her roommate is.
“Are you okay?” she asks, letting a small ray of light illuminate her roommate’s face.
Although there’s only a small amount of light, Lynn clearly sees her roommate lying in the bunk with her blanket pulled up to her chin, her fingers gripping the blanket edges as if it might fly away. Only her face peeks out from under it. The sight of her roommate’s face sends a chill crawling, well, not crawling but racing, up Lynn’s spine. Peeking up from her sweat-soaked pillow, her roommate’s eyes squint against the light. They are swollen, and her face is ashen. Beads of sweat form on her forehead and run down her temples and cheeks. Drool has formed at the corner of her mouth ready to join its compadres on the journey down her face.
“I’m fine,” her roommate half breathes and moans, attempting normal speech.
“You have to go to zone two. I’ll help you,” Lynn says, reaching a hand out to her.
“I said, I’m fine,” her roommate says, shrinking farther back into the pillow.
Lynn stands, walks back to her bunk, sits on the edge, and slips her boots on by the light of the flashlight placed next to her. Lacing up her boots and donning her fatigue top, she picks up her light and, shielding it once more, passes by her roommate’s bunk to head out of the back door.
“Where are you going?” a whisper calls out from the bunk.
“Out,” she responds and opens the door into the night.
Her plan is to locate an MP on the way to her office, or, failing that, call from there. Not wanting to walk all of the way to the security shop or a gate, this will be the quickest way to notify security that her roommate is exhibiting flu-like symptoms. Plus, there is the fact of not wanting to be in a close proximity to someone with a reported highly-contagious sickness. Stepping out into the chill of the night air and into a circle of brightness cast by the light over the doorway, she starts toward her work building and is swallowed up immediately by the dark. The stars overhead portray a clear brilliance that only the desert can bring. The ground is lit at intervals by rings of illumination formed by the camp lights with the areas in between an inky black.
Strolling from one ring of lights to another, she rounds the corner of one building and starts up a central avenue lit at intervals by the pole-mounted lights. Three steps later, along the sandy avenue, a shriek shatters the stillness. It comes from far away only to be followed a second later by another one from the same area. Coming to a stop, Lynn listens and unconsciously moves closer to the side of the avenue by a building. The chatter of rifle fire erupts from the general area of where the shrieks occurred.
What the fuck is going on? Lynn thinks, suddenly aware she is unarmed and wishing for her M-16. Are we under attack? Why hasn’t the alarm sounded?
Another shriek calls from across the camp, followed by a much louder one close by. Damn, that sounded like it came from just up ahead, she thinks, starting cautiously up the avenue again.
What the hell is that?
Two figures emerge into the avenue a few buildings ahead and begin running in her direction, passing in and out of the circles of light. With the reminder that gunshots were fired and people may be rather trigger happy, she shrinks out of the beam of illumination she is standing in. With an ear-piercing shriek, the two ahead alter their course and race directly at her.
Crap, they saw me, she thinks, looking to the sides and around her for some place to go just in case.
A building away, with the fatigue-clad figures racing toward her, another figure emerges into the area and skids to a halt.
“Hey, you two! Where are you going?” the new figure calls out to the two running ones just ahead of him.
The two adjust their course in mid-stride angling toward the newcomer. Standing in the shadows, Lynn watches the scene unfold. The two running figures show no signs of slowing up as they quickly close the distance.
“Hey, what are yo—” he calls out, but doesn’t finish as, with a combined shriek, one launches into the air and the two plow into him.
The soldier only has time to raise his hands before he is catapulted backwards. His feet leave the ground, and he slams onto his back with the two on top. Dust billows out behind him from the impact with the ground. A struggle ensues, with more dust rising into the air around them, but it is short-lived. With a scream, a human one this time, the lone figure beneath the two attackers becomes still. On their knees, leaning over the stricken soldier, the two begin tearing into him with their teeth, gnashing like dogs and tearing off chunks of flesh. One raises his head and shrieks into the night sky, blood painting its lower face.
Lynn’s initial reaction is to run to the soldier’s aid, but it is over so quickly that she never makes it two steps. Another shriek sounds in the darkness close behind her.
Okay, that’s enough for me, Lynn thinks and heads off across the road using the shadows for concealment.
Settling between buildings and feeling somewhat protected in the dark, Lynn hunches down against one of the buildings.
What the fuck was that and what the hell is going on here? she thinks, remembering the rumors floating through her office and from her friend. That could have been me, and I would have been oblivious until it was too late. More thoughts come at lightning speed, filling her mind as time progresses slowly in the physical world. She doesn’t know at this particular time whom she can trust.
Is this an isolated event?
In what almost seems to be an answer, the sounds of more shrieks and gunfire in the distance reach her in the darkness, along with the closer sounds of growling and the wet sounds of flesh being rent and eaten from the avenue in front.
Well, I can’t stay here, that’s for sure, she thinks, rising slowly to her feet. Calling security from the phone still sounds like a good idea, although for different reasons now. Stay quiet and in the dark and trust no one. Finding a weapon might not be a bad idea.
Lynn turns toward the back of the building and silently creeps along it. The sounds in front grow dimmer as she nears the back corner. Another smaller avenue appears in front of her running between a row of buildings on her side and another across the way. With only smaller circles of light appearing by entrance doors, the illumination is not as prevalent as in front so the center of this smaller avenue is nearly dark. Kneeling by the corner, Lynn sees the back of the operations center a short distance down the row of buildings. She heads into the middle of the avenue, which provides the darkest route. Knowing she won’t be able to see whatever those things were that attacked, she keeps vigilant for any sounds.
What am I thinking? Those were soldiers and I am thinking of them as things, she thinks, stepping lightly along the sand path. No, those weren’t soldiers, at least, not rational ones. Rational people don’t attack one another and eat them.
Keeping to the dark, she hears only distant shots, shrieks, and the occasional generator running as she arrives at the operations center. Pausing at a darkened corner of the building, she listens. Lights illuminate several of the windows along the side.
Well, someone was here after I left, she thinks, pondering her best approach. The door is lit by a light above. I could break the light I suppose, she thinks, suddenly becoming very reluctant to expose herself.
Looking at the windows along the side of the building, she realizes they are too high to look in, or to climb in for that matter.
I’ll just try the door quickly.
Lynn rises from her crouched position. Sliding along the back of the building, she approaches the demarcation of light and shadow listening once again for sounds. Taking a deep breath, she steps into the light and walks briskly to the door. Grasping the handle, she pulls it toward her. The steel door gives a little before stopping with a metallic clunk indicating it is locked from within.
She is just about to turn and head back into the shad
ows when a voice calls from within, “Who’s there?”
“Sergeant Connell,” Lynn whispers loudly, not wanting her voice to carry.
“Who?” the voice asks again.
“Just open the fucking door!” she says firmly and louder this time.
There is a short pause and the door swings outward. She darts through as soon as there is enough of an opening.
“With a response like that, there’s only one person it could be,” a specialist says once she is in, and the door closes behind her with a metallic click.
The door opens into the large room where her desk is located, lit by only a half section of lights overhead. Four other soldiers are in the room clustered together around the middle, their eyes wide and heads pivoting in every direction. She knows the specialist behind her from her previous position in the operations center but doesn’t recognize anyone else.
“Specialist Taylor, is there anyone else here?” she asks as she steps up to the group in the middle.
“No, sergeant,” he answers.
“Anyone have any idea of what’s going on?” she asks, looking at each one.
“I think they’re killing people out there,” one private says, looking back over her shoulder toward the front of the building.
“Easy, soldier. We don’t know that,” Lynn says, feeling a little more relaxed in the familiar environment of her office and being in command.
Picking up the handset from a phone on the metal desk in front of her, Lynn dials the number for the security shop. She lets it ring for a few times before returning the handset to its cradle. She then tries the gate, but no one answers. Several more calls to other locations reveal the same. Turning to Taylor, she asks, “Has anyone tried calling in?”
“No, sergeant,” he responds. “It’s the same with other bases as well. No one’s home.”
“Is the front door locked?” Lynn asks.
“Yes, Sergeant Connell,” another specialist answers. A shriek sounds outside from in front of the building. All heads turn that direction.